On the ropes, p.10
On the Ropes, page 10
My dad opened his arms for a hug. “You got a reservation, or what?”
“Nah. I thought I’d barge in and demand you serve me.”
I stepped back only to have Juliet barrel into my legs with a squeal. I dropped down and lifted her around my waist. She squeezed my cheeks with her hands.
“Hi, Aunty Tabby,” she said.
“Hi, kiddo.” To my dad, I said, “I don’t know what you’re cooking tonight, but I’ve been thinking about a chicken cheesesteak all day.”
He tapped my arm. “You got it. And is that Lin’s photo album?”
I held it in my outstretched hand. “Oh, you mean these pictures of her Saturday Night Fever–themed birthday party? Why yes, yes, it is.”
He gave a funny shrug. “My memory is that I looked good in those silver bell-bottoms.”
Juliet poked my cheeks with her fingers. I made a silly face at her. “I plan to give the best ones to Kathleen so she can put them on your Christmas card this year.”
I walked over to Alexis and Eric in their red vinyl booth.
“Gimme, gimme,” my sister said, taking the photo album. “We promise not to laugh too hard, Dad.”
“I’m unable to make that promise,” Eric said.
Dad’s response was to flash us a mischievous grin as he tossed the towel back over his shoulder. “You laugh now until you’re waiting an hour for your dinner.”
He slipped back behind the counter, and Juliet very seriously slid a coloring book my way with one purple and one green crayon. “Will you color with me?”
“Of course,” I said. “Your mom and I used to come here after school. We’d do our homework while Pop-Pop cooked food for people.”
Alexis snorted. “I learned all of my best curse words as a kid from the people who sat next to us at that counter, yelling at whatever was happening on Action News.”
I leaned over the table to see what pictures she was looking at. They were slightly faded, some more blurry than others. My dad and his sister, Aunt Linda, looked like they’d walked off the set of the Stayin’ Alive music video. He had his arm around her shoulders, and they were laughing outrageously at some joke we’d never know.
“She still has those same curtains,” I said.
“They were legends, man,” Eric said.
I looked affectionately at the picture in front of me. “You’re not wrong.”
Alexis looked up and shut the album with a dramatic flair. “Did I read your text this morning correctly? Are you really helping Dean Knox-Morelli clean the abandoned lot next to Linda’s house?”
“Looks like it,” I said. “Although most of the neighbors have been helping, and I think it’s likely we’ll be done with the trash-removal part in a few days. The harder part is organizing what they want to put in there. Dean said the city doesn’t care, so they’ve got free rein.” I propped my chin in my hand as I colored in a unicorn’s tail. “I told him about the stories I did on pocket parks in Baltimore. Mini green spaces. And I called Linda, who was sunbathing on the beach in Wildwood. She was relieved to know we were doing something about it, said she loved the idea of flowers or trees that would attract more birds and butterflies.”
“It’s a great idea,” Alexis said. “We could swing by one of these days and talk to Dean about the community gardens at the school.”
“It’s changed everything for the kids,” Eric added. He slid his elbows onto the table. “To be able to go to school and grow things, to watch the transformation, to work together on a project with real results you can touch and see and smell. Or even to eat. And for that part of the parking lot to not just be a hot slab of asphalt filled with Coke bottles and straw wrappers. But something green and alive.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “And Dean is, like, the perfect person to tackle this thing. I don’t think he notices how much his neighbors look up to him as a leader.”
Alexis arched a blond eyebrow my way, clearly amused.
What? I mouthed.
Nothing, she mouthed back, with the slyest grin I’d ever seen.
We let out a rousing cheer as Dad dropped off our delicious-smelling food for us.
“Gimme fifteen minutes, then I’ll clock out and come eat with you guys,” he said. “Kathleen is rushing over to see the photo album.”
I popped a french fry into my mouth. “She will not be disappointed.”
Juliet looked up from her grilled cheese. Her curls were in two tiny, poofy pigtails that sat on top of her head. “Are you taking our picture?”
I chewed, swallowed. “What, sweetheart?”
She pointed to the camera I had slung across my shoulder.
“I totally forgot I brought this.” I popped off the lens and peered through the viewfinder at Juliet, who was posing for the camera. “Do you want one of just you or with your mom and dad?”
She scrunched up her nose and said, “With them, Aunty Tabby.”
“You got it, kiddo.” I made the universal scoot in close gesture. Eric wrapped his arm around my sister and pulled her in. Juliet popped onto his lap, and he rested his chin on top of her head.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“Ready,” Juliet said. “Say cheese.”
I laughed. “I say that part.”
“Say cheese!” she yelled.
The shutter went click. I checked the digital screen to see how the first one came out. I’d caught all three of them mid-laugh.
My heart swelled at the image, stirring up my jumbled thoughts from earlier. It was like my brain was now refusing to acknowledge the boundary I’d carefully constructed after I moved away.
Alexis and Eric were definitely a story—two people who fell in love in college while bonding over their commitment to public service. Teachers who fought for their students, who listened to their needs and met them without judgment. They marched and protested, did park cleanups, and led voter registrations. And every year, on June first, my sister had rainbow-colored cupcakes delivered to whatever random address I was staying in.
For a person who valued the joy of community so much, I sure was missing a lot of it here.
“How does it look?” Alexis asked.
I grinned through the tight grip on my throat and passed her the camera. She and Eric lit up when they saw it. Juliet was less impressed and eagerly went back to her coloring.
“Pop-Pop says you take pictures as your job,” she said, her little face screwed up in concentration.
“That’s a pretty good explanation,” I said. “I take lots of pictures, but mostly I take videos and make little movies for people to watch.”
That got her attention. “Can I make a movie?”
I slid out my phone and turned the video function on. “Anyone can make a movie. I bet your dad can help you. Go for it.”
The expression she wore waving my phone around had my sister and me exchanging a look of surprised happiness.
“You might have a little director on your hands,” I mock-whispered.
“I’d be okay with that,” she replied.
Juliet pointed the phone at me. I waved and blew a kiss for the camera. “If you want, you can ask me questions. That’s how I start making my movies.”
“Okay,” she said, very seriously. “Do you miss me when you leave?”
“Every single day.”
“Can I still call you when you leave again like we did before?” she asked.
“You can call me anytime,” I said. “I promise.”
She was zooming all over. I couldn’t contain my smile, watching her work, the astonishment radiating from her movements. It was an astonishment that I recognized.
“Do you have friends?” she asked.
I smothered a giggle. “I do have friends. Your mom and dad are my best friends.”
“But when you go away and leave us, I mean?”
“Wow,” Eric said. “No more softball questions for you, Aunty Tabby.”
I snorted and said, “Of course I have friends. I meet people everywhere I go.”
Which was objectively true. The contact list on my phone was filled with friends I’d made during my travels and random temporary roommates and people I’d dated. But I hadn’t spoken to any of them since coming home.
I thought Juliet might want to keep questioning me, but she’d already dropped my phone to go back to enjoying her grilled cheese, which wasn’t a decision I could fault her for. It was a Drew Tyler specialty.
I leaned across the table. “I just confirmed my next contract. I’m heading out to Austin at the end of the month.”
My sister’s eyes went wide. “Can we come visit? We’ve been wanting to go there for years.”
“I’m in,” Eric said. “We’ll still be off from school for most of August. Could be our summer vacation destination.”
“If Dad and Kathleen come, she will leave a trail of tequila and destruction through that city,” Alexis said. “And, personally, I can’t wait.”
The characterization of my wild and raunchy stepmom was accurate. But my own physical response to what I’d normally consider great news was a little muted. Perhaps it was sitting in this cracked, red-vinyl booth, draped in affection and bittersweet nostalgia, and thinking about everything I had to do only to leave again—the long plane rides, the empty hotel room, the temporary housing, the loneliness of being on your own in a new city.
My headspace was all over the map tonight.
“Austin is probably ripe for a hot summer fling, right?” Alexis asked.
I took a giant bite of my cheesesteak to avoid answering. Dean wouldn’t be in Austin, obviously. And that was fine. Obviously.
The bell over the door jingled, and I smelled Kathleen’s perfume. She slid into our booth just as my dad returned, passing me a Styrofoam container with Eddie scrawled in black marker.
“I happened to make extra chicken tonight if he wants some,” he said.
Thank you, I mouthed, squeezing his wrist.
“Hi, Grandma,” Juliet said, sounding shocked. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, baby,” she said, picking a piece of lint off her leopard-print top. “I’m here because I wanted to see pictures of your Pop-Pop.”
Dad was trying to wrestle the photo album out of Alexis’s hands.
“The world deserves to see this,” she said, swatting him away. “You can’t keep the people from the truth of your platform shoes.”
Alexis shoved it to me, and Kathleen immediately moved in close. I was squashed at the very end, with Dad and Kathleen next to me, our plates of food and drinks in a colorful array around us. With each flip of the page, she and my dad burst into laughter. My sister and I hadn’t been born yet, but the pictures of Aunt Linda’s house and the street were essentially the same.
Some houses looked a little nicer now. Some a little worse. But the composition of each image was alive with the vibrations of loud music, sticky summer nights, too many beers and just enough food. The kind of party that couldn’t be contained in a row home, spilling out onto a block full of neighbors happy to join in.
On the very last page was a picture jammed into the bottom corner, bent at one end. I narrowed my eyes as I reached for it, wiggling it free.
“Hey, I recognize these party animals.” I flipped it around to show my dad. “That’s a much younger Eddie, Alice, and Midge and Maria. Dean’s parents.”
His eyes crinkled at the sides. “They were always up for a block party.”
“Still are now,” I said, bringing the picture close to my face. Midge had her arm thrown around Maria’s shoulders. Their hair was dark, faces unlined, and they wore matching yellow bell-bottom pants.
“Dean and I were just talking about our support groups at the Lavender Center, how hard it was for his parents to be themselves, especially in this city at that time.”
“It was extremely hard,” Dad said. “They told me that they relied on their neighbors to keep them safe. Stand up for them if they needed it. They welcomed them at holidays if they weren’t welcome at their own family’s dinner tables.”
I placed the picture down. “I didn’t know you talked to Dean’s parents about their experiences.”
He rubbed a hand through his hair. “When you came out to me, I went to go see them.”
I don’t know why, but I still asked, “With Mom too?”
Kathleen muttered a few unkind words beneath her breath.
He shook his head, and I felt an unexpected wave of disappointment.
“At the time, we hadn’t started going to those support groups yet,” Dad continued. “I’d always liked Midge and Maria, and they were kind to me when your mom and I got divorced. They didn’t gossip about us, even though everyone else we knew did. Told me they weren’t saints but knew a bit about what it was like to live under a microscope, you know?”
Under the table, Alexis squeezed my fingers.
“One night, after your sister threw you that Pride party, I brought a six pack over and told them I wanted to know how I could be a good dad to you. Besides loving you—that’s always been easy. But they had some insight I just didn’t. About listening and not judging. Stuff like that.” His smile was bashful. “I’m sure I wasn’t perfect, but they helped me a lot.”
The pressure in my throat grew. I had to swallow three times before I could speak again. “You were the perfect dad for me.”
He beamed at that and ruffled my hair like I was a kid again.
“I see them both now, staying at Aunt Linda’s house. I’ll make sure to thank them,” I said. “Let them know I turned out all right.”
“More than all right,” Dad said. “And that son of theirs is one of the good ones, I don’t care what anybody says.”
I shifted back and forth on the vinyl. Dean was most assuredly one of the good ones.
Alexis tapped the album with her finger. “There isn’t a single picture of Mom in here, oddly enough. Did she turn her nose up at Aunt Linda’s disco-themed party?”
Dad looked a little nervous. “Uh, no. Your aunt threw away every picture of your mom after we split up.”
Alexis and I exchanged a glance. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or terrified,” I said.
“Your aunt is a ferocious woman that sticks to her guns.” From Kathleen’s tone, it was obvious she considered that a compliment.
“Well,” Eric said, “maybe the two of you will have to throw your own theme party. I bet you can rummage up some groovy seventies clothes at the thrift stores around town.”
Kathleen grabbed my arm, mouth open. “Like maybe before you leave?”
My mouth twisted to the side. “Probably not. I was just telling them about the contract I signed with a hotel in Austin.”
This time I was watching closely, caught the split second of sadness on Dad’s and Kathleen’s faces before they congratulated me.
“I think this calls for hot fudge sundaes to celebrate, yeah?” my dad said. “I can whip some up in the back.”
“Absolutely,” I chimed in, smile frozen on my face. We went back to eating and making jokes and enjoying too much ice cream with one another. But churning beneath was a tangle of feelings and memories only growing louder with every day I spent back home. I was beyond lucky to have a father and sister—plus a brother-in-law and stepmom—who loved me without question, who were willing to celebrate every part of my identity, every accomplishment and achievement.
My mother, on the other hand, used criticism as a form of control, held Alexis and me up to a level of expected perfection that was never, ever possible. And we’d disappointed her so badly that she’d gone ahead and gotten herself a brand-new family.
She’d involved me in her secrets and lies when I was much too young to comprehend what she was having me do—which was help her break my father’s heart so deeply that my aunt Linda threw away pictures of her.
I kept these secrets close and locked away because the idea of hurting my father and sister again was the worst thing I could imagine a person doing. My mother had already hurt them enough. Yet in the face of their honesty and support, lying gave me an icky, turbulent feeling in the pit of my stomach.
This quick layover in Philly was just that and nothing more. The longer I was here, the more grateful I became that I could leave.
Thirteen
Dean
I stepped out of the shower to knocking at my door while my cell phone rang. With a soft curse, I wrapped a towel around my waist and ran a hand through my wet hair. My rib cage ached as I inhaled. Sly had worked me on the pull-up bar at the gym and had me skipping rope between sets. I’d welcomed the burn in my muscles and the diversion from analyzing every interaction I’d had with a certain vivacious redhead.
Nothing seemed to temper my lust for her though.
I snatched my phone from the top of the dresser. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“You don’t even say hello to your agent anymore?”
I tucked the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I tightened my towel. “Harry?”
“Yeah, how you doing? How’s Midge and Maria?”
Harry Fleet had been my agent since my amateur boxing days. I still heard from him a couple times a year, usually about some appearance or re-airing of a classic fight, but it had been more than six months since he’d called me up out of the blue.
“My parents are good. Healthy. And I’m fine.” Someone knocked at my door again. A little more persistently this time. “You’re not at my house, are you?”
“In South Philly? No, why would I be?”
I walked down the stairs to another round of knocking. “Uh…never mind. Is everything okay?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, everything’s okay. Everything is great. Are you sitting down?”
I twitched open the front curtain. Tabitha was on the top of my stoop in a cropped black tank top and jean shorts. She turned, ponytail swinging, and smiled at me like I was her best friend in the whole world. In her hands were two small white containers with plastic spoons.
