Page 110 of Little Lies


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“Nothing. May I be excused?”

“You’ve barely touched your food,” Sandy’s brows furrowed in concern. Nathan wasn’t good at hiding things like Tully was. He couldn’t make his face straight and not care the way she could, so everything he felt was probably written in permanent ink on his face.

“I’m not hungry.”

“But—”

“You’re excused.” Much to his surprise, his dad was the one to interrupt. He cut at his fillet, avoiding Nathan’s stare. He waited, expecting something more, but when they said nothing else, Nathan rose from his seat. After a quick thank you to his mom for dinner with a kiss on her head, he left to his room.

He basked in the five minutes he had alone and quietly counted down the seconds until his mom would no doubt come knocking, prying if he was okay. It was a motherly thing to come comfort their kids when they were upset, and Nathan was the poster child for distressed child in need of comforting. He didn’t bother getting comfortable in bed, because soon enough there’d be a knock at the door and he’d have to sit up anyways, so he stayed in his desk chair and stared pointlessly at the notebooks he never got the chance to return. Tully’s handwriting, now more familiar than his own, was his desperate tie back to her in these disheartening times.

On schedule, three light rasps intruded his moping and he sighed. “Come in.”

He was wrong though about one thing. His mother didn’t come with her soft, soothing eyes and gentle, comforting words. instead, his dad stood in the doorway, putting more weight onto one leg before shifting to the other and leaving the greetings for Nathan to imagine as he entered the room and shut them in together.

Nathan tried not to look so dumbfounded, but when his mouth grew dry from sitting open too long, he knew he’d failed. His father, thanks to his quiet nature, didn’t mention it.

“Got this in the mail today,” The man announced unceremoniously and dropped a long, thin envelope onto Tully’s notebooks. Nathan recognized it anywhere. He’d dreaded it a few times a year, especially knowing his dad would be eyeing the mail around this time waiting for something to chastise Nathan about. Kids loved getting mail, but some kids, just like Nathan, hated it when the report card arrived.

This time, he wasn’t worried. He had an inkling of what it looked like, and as proud as that made him, it also stung a little bit that he couldn’t celebrate the way he wanted to—withwhohe wanted to.

“Oh.” Nathan became the man of little words this time, taking his father’s title.

“Open it and have a look.”

As instructed, he opened the already broken seal and saw the letters listed top to bottom. Never before had he held such high grades in his own hands. It almost felt like the time he held a hundred-dollar bill for the first time. He smiled at the proof that bore itself to him, as halfhearted as it felt. “I’m proud of you.”

Nathan looked up from the paper in surprise.

His dad cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with this lovey-dovey talk. He swallowed before continuing. “I know how hard you worked, I saw your progress and how your choices changed, and you’ve done some real good stuff here, son.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I…” he cleared his throat again and averted his eyes to the checkered wall beside him. “I’m sorry to hear you and Tully broke up.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“She was a good girl. Good student, strong ethics.”

“Yeah, I know.” Nathan didn’t need to be reminded of things he already tortured himself about.

“But you know what I liked most about her?”

“The straight As?”

“She made you happy,” his dad answered without a beat. So much confidence in his voice that as surprised as Nathan was, he didn’t doubt it one bit. “I could tell by how you smiled. It’s lucky to find someone you enjoy being around.”

Nathan’s eyes traveled down, past the grade report and at the corner of the notebook that stuck out with the tail ends of her cursive sticking out. He said nothing.

“I’m sorry for bringing it up, I know it must be difficult—”

“I liked her.”

Nathan never talked with his dad much. Their interactions stemmed between arguments on grades, and when it wasn’t that it was silent conversations with short looks and small greetings. But transparent, vulnerable feelings from either side were near extinct since he’d grown up and become ‘a man.’ Whatever was happening now, it wasn’t normal, but he wouldn’t mind if it was, so he let it happen and the words spilled without thinking. “I still like her. Really,reallylike her. I just didn’t realize how much until now.” He laughed at how pitiful he sounded. Liking a girl who probably saw him as a business partner was one long run-on joke at his expense; he was both the comedian and the punchline.

“That’s what happens when we lose things. They become valuable after they’re gone,” his dad said. “I’m not good at these things, Nathan, but I’ve done enough bad in my life to realize when there’s something good. My advice: don’t lose it. And if you think you have, then get it back.”

Things finally made sense. A connect-the-dot puzzle that had been missing numbers for years drew their final lines and Nathan saw the full picture of his parents for the first time in years.

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