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“I don’t know. I haven’t met her. We had dinner the other night, and I simply asked if he was bringing Samantha to your father’s party. She wasn’t with him this time or the last. Well, he said they weren’t together anymore, and that he was dating someone new, this Angelica person.”
Making a slow lap around Lorraine’s withering garden, I find a morose curiosity in learning I might not be the only one on my father’s bad side. I almost wish I could have been there. I’ve never seen Randy get upset over a girlfriend before.
“What does that have to do with him and Dad getting into it?”
“Well, your father said, first, you–” she cuts herself off, but I cringe, having an idea of what was said. I take it back. I’m glad I wasn’t there. “And…and that he didn’t think Randy should bring a woman of color to his party. You know how traditional his views are. I mean, Randy knows this too, so I don’t understand why he was so surprised, but he got very upset. They started yelling at each other, and Randy stormed out.”
I feel like I just ran into a wall. Is he losing it? He’s awful, just god-awful and always has been, but the degree to which he’s trying to dictate our personal lives has gone farther than ever. He hates everyone, I swear; even people he hasn’t met.
And my mother… The undertone of placation in the way she retold the story has me torn between trying to shake some sense into her and pitying her for her blind devotion. I used to think that wealth and power had gone to my father’s head the way he expressed more freely over the years when he looked down on someone. It was always gossip about individuals, but in the course of a week, he’s shown his true colors. He hates two people he doesn’t know for what they are. Three, if you count me.
An exasperated sigh comes over the line. “This party is going to be a disaster. Please, tell me you’re coming and will try to talk to your father. Maybe he’ll have calmed down by then, and you two can make things right.”
Make things right? My head is spinning. There is nothing on this earth that could make things right with that man. No flying to Kiawah Island. No specific career. No specific sexual orientation. No particular color of skin. I’ve been seeking approval my entire life from someone whose approval I no longer want. I can’t believe Pete had to keep me away from them out of fear I’d cave in to their pressure. What kind of person am I if I let them steamroll me?
“I have to go, Mom.”
“But I just got a hold of you. You’re still coming to the party, aren’t you? I want all my sons there. Your father would be so upset if you missed it.”
“I…I’ll try. I have to go.” My voice comes out sounding disembodied. I think she’s still talking when I end the call, but I can’t deal with anything more from her.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing here, staring out at the orchard, by the time I hear Lorraine’s voice call to me. “Cam? Is everything alright?”
Her compassionate gray eyes, the down-turned curve of her mouth like a protective she-wolf—I have all her attention if I want it. I can’t take it right now, the abstract between her level of understanding and my family’s indifference. It might break whatever’s left of me.
The soft rumble of a tractor purrs in the distance. I see Pete’s father making his way into the orchard, suddenly looking like the perfect companion—silent, a man of few words.
“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. Would it be alright, though, if I help Frank in the orchard today? I think I could use some fresh air.”
Even her smile says she understands. “Sure. He’d love that.”
I take my time making my way to where Frank is setting up his ladder. Ironically, the closer I get to the silence I was seeking, the more I’m itching to say something.
“Mr. Carver?”
Turning away from his ladder, he looks at me. He could be Pete in thirty years.
“I think I owe you an apology.”
His brow creases as he grabs his picking bag out of the wagon behind the tractor. “Mind telling me what I need an apology for?”
“For camping out at your house. For getting Pete mixed up in my mess, and…” That’s where I get lost.
I have so much gratitude and regret in my heart, I don’t know how to separate the two. I think I want to apologize for propositioning his son. If I hadn’t, Pete wouldn’t be dealing with any of this. I also want to thank him for making a family where everyone is loved.
“Frank,” he says.
“What?”
“Call me, Frank.”
I nod and wait. I know Pete said he doesn’t gab, but I guess I expected some kind of reply. Instead, he hoists his bag over his shoulder and starts up his ladder. Awkward. I’m so awkward.
“I have three children, Cameron.”
The random comment startles me in the silence. Squinting up, I shade my eyes with my hand. Frank gets to work, deftly collecting apples as he elaborates.
“A parent always worries about their kids to a degree, but there’s one that never kept me up at night. You know why?”
