Page 94 of Life, Love, and Other Messes

Dad looked up, and, seeing me there, dropped his head to his arms, which were resting on the pew ahead of him. “Sam.”

“What’s wrong?” I carefully scootched just a few feet into the row ahead of Dad so I could sit sideways without disturbing the baby.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was despondent. “We broke you, Sam. We forced you to be near that…man…And we broke you.”

“Nobody’s broken, Dad,” I said quietly. “I’m fine.”

“But years of that. You put up with years of that. It’s not fair.”

“This world isn’t fair.”

“But we were supposed to protect you.”

“You did.” I stroked Jeremiah’s soft, fine hair back. “I was not attacked by wild boars or carried off by a band of thieves.”

“Not just physically.”

“I know. Dad, it’s not your fault.”

“I don’t want it to be your mother’s fault, either.”

“It’s not.”

We stared at one another for a long time, both very obviously thinking actually, yes it kind of was, although neither of us said it out loud. Dad finally shook his head. “I know you don’t believe this, but she loved you very much.”

“Oh, I know. She did her best. I wasn’t so easy on her.”

“You were the easiest kid.”

“I’m not such an easy adult.”

“She needed to hear the things you said. We all did.”

“Well, that’s good, because I’m not going to stop just because she’s dead.” I winced once the words had left my mouth. Too soon?

To my surprise, Dad laughed, just a little. “Good.”

Jeremiah let out a gigantic fart. “I see he takes after Kevin.” I rubbed his back again and got back up off the pew.

“You don’t know Missy very well. I like her, Sam.”

“Missy?”

“Lisa. I like her.”

I grinned. “Me too. Are you coming back to the party?”

He smirked and looked away for a moment, letting me know he appreciated my sarcasm. “In a minute. I just need to get my head together.”

“Buy you a drink tonight.”

“I’ll buy you a drink whenever we get out of here.”

“Love you, Dad,” should have come out of my mouth. There was nothing else to say, and I should have said it, but we didn’t do that in my family. I didn’t remember ever saying that to either of my parents or my brother. I should have said it then, but instead, I walked slowly back up to the vestibule, trying not to wake the baby.

That evening, Dad and Lisa and I went over to Kevin’s house and went through a bottle of whiskey with him and Missy. We started by talking about the kids and about our jobs and about where Lisa had grown up, but before long, we were telling the remember-when stories. All the ridiculous memories of growing up in our family. Vacations to Disney World and the St. Louis Arch and Washington, DC. Sunburns and bee stings and lost car keys and tantrums, both from children and grownups. Lisa and Missy had been drinking fairly lightly compared to the other three of us, but even they were giggling. Dad finally nodded at Lisa. “Has she told you about her grandmother?”

Lisa glanced at me, but I was the one who answered. “The one who would be so ashamed?”