Page 47 of Floodgates

“I’m so not gonna do that just because you’re using me to change the subject.”

“Ohmygod,” Evan croaked out, trying to stifle his laughter. “Jesus Christ, Alex, it’s about goddamn time he started dating. Mom’s been gone more than nineteen years now.”

“I know how long she’s been gone,” he said solemnly, staring straight ahead, his knuckles turning white on the wheel as he drove.

I put my hand lightly on his right shoulder. “It’s time, Al.”

“I know it’s time,” he agreed indulgently, his tone condescending. “I just don’t think that today of all days is the right one for us to be meeting her. We have important family matters to discuss.”

Obviously, he was not ready for our father to move on. Alex, who had been with our mother the longest, being the oldest child, was not ready for our father to date.

“Dad deserves to have someone,” Evan ventured, his tone gentle. “I mean, unless you’re going to live the rest of your life with him and be his constant companion, he needs someone in his life to share it with. He’s not a monk. He has needs too.”

Alex turned from watching the road and looked sideways at me, completely ignoring Evan. “I just miss her.”

“I know,” I said simply, my eyes welling with tears. What I wouldn’t give to have her back, to be going home to her right now. Not that my dad was lacking in any way. He was, in fact, much more nurturing than she had ever been. It was simply that you could sit with her and just be still and silent, and that was okay. She had been gifted with that quiet strength, and it had never left her, even when the pancreatic cancer had eaten her down to eighty pounds. Never had she complained, never had she blamed God or cursed her life. She had simply accepted the inevitable outcome, let my father nurse her in her final month, and told us all how proud she was of us and how much she loved us. She had made me promise to watch out for everyone, and at the time, I didn’t understand why. Why me? How did that make sense? I wasn’t the oldest. I wasn’t the fixer, like Alex, or the showman, like Evan, who brought the whole family together to see him, to look at him. I was the middle child; all I knew how to do was negotiate and get along and….

Somewhere over the span of years I’d learned what she meant. I was the anchor, and both my brothers revolved around me. I was younger than Alex and so needed his protection. I was older than Evan, so he could reach out to me when he was in need. They all came running when I called. She had been counting on me to hold the family together. Normally I did a better job.

“So what?” I asked Evan. “Is the mystery woman staying or leaving?”

“I dunno. I told Dad to keep her there. Your guess is as good as mine, though. Maybe she’ll be there, maybe she won’t. It’s a crapshoot.”

Once we made it to the house my father had bought after he sold the big one we’d grown up in, we parked the SUV behind a silver Mercedes that was not my dad’s. The woman had apparently stayed to meet the children of the man she had been dating for over three months. I was pleased; it would give me something to think about besides Breckin. I led the way, and before I got a chance to knock, my father opened the door.

“Dad.” I smiled as I stepped into his arms. He hugged me gently, obviously not sure where I was damaged and not wanting to hurt me.

“Tracy,” he said softly into my hair, rubbing my back.

I hugged him tight, remembering the last time I’d hung on for dear life. It was back in high school, when I had come out to him.

I had been so scared.

He had told me not to be, to just tell him.

When he’d heard I was gay he had stood up, thanked me for telling him, and then opened his arms wide.

He hadn’t cared. It had changed nothing. Gay or straight, I was his son, and that was all there was to it. And I realized about the same time that I could call my dad at 3:00 a.m. if I was stuck somewhere. He would come and get me, and we would not talk about what had occurred to get me into that situation until the following morning. He never confronted me when I was drunk or embarrassed; he waited for a new day. And if I was hungover, then I had to endure breakfast. The same was true for Evan and Alex. The amount one had drunk was directly proportional to what he made you eat. Sausage, eggs, and biscuits and gravy were usually reserved for Alex. Evan and I mostly had chorizo omelets. The worst was menudo. You were in deep shit if he made you menudo after an all-night drinking binge. And he was always so damn cheerful when he served it, asking you all about your night, where you were, whom you were with, and what you had been doing in the wee hours. I absorbed all those life lessons.

He made us all self-sufficient and confident in our abilities. He was our touchstone if we strayed off the path. I loved his dear sweet face with the deep laugh lines in the corner of his light-blue eyes. Now, as I clung to him, I felt much better. Seeing him, I knew I was still me. I was still Tracy, and someday I would be okay. Just not anytime soon.

I pulled back gently, and he let me. Our gazes met before he turned to welcome Evan and Alex. I watched him cup Evan’s face in his hands and really look at him, checking him over, making sure he was okay. He could tell if he wasn’t. Nothing could be successfully hidden from my old man.

I became aware of someone looking at me, and I turned around slowly. Two women were standing beneath the arch that led from the foyer into the living room, one older, one younger.

“Hi,” I said, sounding lame. “I’m Tracy.”

The older woman came forward, holding her hand out for me to take. “Hello, Tracy, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Beth Segal.”

“Beth.” I smiled at her, taking the offered hand. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Here, here,” my dad interrupted us as he walked around to stand beside her. He draped his arm around her shoulders. “Beth, I want you to meet my sons. This is my youngest, Evan, then Tracy, and Alex, my oldest.”

My brothers both shook her hand, Evan cheerfully, Alex reluctantly.

“This is my daughter, Joanna,” Beth said, indicating the woman who had come to stand beside her. She beamed at her daughter as Joanna shook hands with all of us.

“Come sit down,” my dad said, herding us all into the living room.