Page 11 of Retrofit Analysis

Maddie points her fork at me. “Do you ever work with the FARE center? Family Advocacy and Rights…something? They were such a help, even when I went to college. Helped me figure out how to get in touch with disability resources and stuff.”

“Aw, babe, that’s so great that you had an organization who helped you.” Nicole clutches at her chest. “Emma sure didn’t have anything like that.” She looks at me. “We’ve known each other since college. Emma is our other friend, and she has epilepsy, but her parents did not know the things it sounds like you knew to get help for Jake.”

I look up to see Kellen staring at me with an odd, unreadable expression on his face. I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry your friend had to experience that. I’ve certainly learned a lot the past 15 years.”

Maddie’s eyes light up as she holds up her phone. “Oh my gosh, they’re hiring,” she says. “I just wanted to get the name right. Family Advocacy and Rights Education. They’re hiring. You’d be so great at that.”

“At what?” I’m so stunned I don’t even remember my manners. I fidget with the napkin in my lap.

“Parent coaching,” Maddie says. She nods. “Looks like it’s a part-time role doing phone support, helping parents and guardians when their child is diagnosed or is having trouble with school and such. Did you know this is, like, a service families have? I didn’t know it was a free program when my mom called them all the time.”

Nicole, Maddie, and Liam enter a heated discussion on the benefits of tax-supported programs for families while Mick and Kellen drift off into another topic with Kellen’s daughter, Orla. Jake and Cal are talking about car parts and I take advantage of the lull in attention to internally freak out about the opportunity that just fell into my lap.

A job opening! The perfect job opening. Can it really be true that there’s a job for people to help guide other parents through the earth-shattering experience of diagnosis and getting started with autism therapies and navigating school systems for kids like Jake?

I glance up at the sky again. The rainbow is no longer visible, but the magic of this family still hovers in the warm air like a hug. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that Kellen Brady would enter my life again in any capacity, let alone as friend to my son. And now his niece-in-law has just dangled a fruit so tempting, I almost excuse myself and go apply for the position.

I decide there’s no harm in staying put for a little while longer. After all, how often do I get to enjoy a good meal with kind company who convince my son to try new things? I laugh, still not believing this life is real. That it’s mine. This time, when Kellen catches me smiling, I almost suspect there’s more heat to his gaze. I look away, squeezing Jake’s shoulder as he earnestly tells the deck at large, “this is the best outdoor barbecue I’ve ever had.”

Nine

Kellen

Three days after it aired, I finally get the opportunity to watch my documentary. Everything feels off about the experience, though, because I’m not chatting about it online as I watch with a group of fellow enthusiasts. I’m sitting alone on my couch in sweatpants, fidgeting as I stare at the screen.

My mind wanders back to the family dinner the other day. Between the rain and the squabbling, it seemed like the typical wild Brady gathering. I’m struck by how Elizabeth and Jake fit right in to the whole scene. She seemed embarrassed by her son’s frustration over canceled plans, and I had pointed out that my grown nephews almost came to blows over the last scoop of guacamole in the dish. Who cares if a teenager needs to yell a bit when things don’t go his way?

The truth is, I know a lot of people care. Mick and I are well aware that the family we’ve built is eccentric. We don’t mix well with others. For some reason, major clients accept his quirky personality and I like to think that my engineering skill has done an okay job securing their trust in us as a company. But personal stuff? Who wants to mix it up with an old man whose favorite pastime is watching geeky documentaries?

Elizabeth had a good time yesterday, I think. I push those thoughts aside and focus on the soothing voice of the narrator, explaining all the ways that radio changed the world. I glance out the window and see Elizabeth’s parents walking up to her front door, carrying a huge basket of flowers. I had forgotten, again, that she grew up in this neighborhood. No wonder she chose this as a landing place for her and her son.

Jake comes outside and I see him giving his grandparents a tour of the yard. He lugs the flower basket in one arm. Through my open window, I hear him say, “Mom isn’t home yet from her errand. I’m not supposed to let anyone into the house when she’s not here.” I chuckle. Orla was sometimes really literal in that way, especially when it came to safety rules. Attention to detail like that makes her a good, safe electrical engineer.

Of course, Orla is able to see nuance in a way that Jake obviously struggles with. I’d like to ask Elizabeth more about his autism. I flick off the documentary, realizing my heart isn’t in it and I’m no longer interested, and I look at my picture window in time to see Jake waving at me with both hands, flowers flying out of the basket on his arm.

“This is my neighbor,” he says. “He invited us for a backyard barbecue and it was a successful social outing.”

I wave at Mr. and Mrs. Burns, who wave casually, and then do a double take. I head toward the front door, knowing it would be rude not to go out and catch up. “Kellen Brady, is that you?” The Burnses have to be pushing 80. They still seem like they’re in good health, though Mr. Burns is pulling his shorts up higher and wearing socks with his sandals now.

“Mr. and Mrs. Burns, delighted to see you again,” I say, shaking their hands with both of mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t look you up sooner. I had forgotten we were neighbors.”

Mrs. Burns wags a finger at me. “You’re an adult now, Kellen. You can call us Steve and Anna.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say. “Fine grandson you’ve got there.”

Anna beams. “Isn’t he a delight. Steve is trying to get him to let us inside until—oh, there she is. Elizabeth! Tell your son to let us inside. Your father is getting eaten alive by mosquitos.”

Elizabeth emerges from her car with a shopping bag, grinning. “Jake, sweetie, why won’t you let your grandparents inside? How long have you been here?” She directs this last comment to her parents and then, noticing me, gives me a slight nod of her chin.

“I’ll just head back on inside,” I start to say, turning, but Steve hollers.

“Ah, come on. We haven’t seen you in 30 years, kid. Come tell us if all those big plans you had worked out.”

Five minutes later, I’m seated on a folding chair in Elizabeth’s dining room, where she hasn’t yet acquired furniture, passing around pictures of Orla on my phone. “She works with Mick and me at Beltane engineering,” I tell them. “She’s whip smart and full of sass.”

“She’s a beautiful girl, Kellen,” Anna says, patting my hand. Elizabeth glances at the photos and smiles, nodding. Anna squeezes my arm. “And what about Mrs. Brady? All this talk of Orla. Where’s that wife of yours right now?”

I’m supposed to be used to this question. Normally, I do ok. For the past five years or so, I’ve been able to take this question in stride, but it’s not usually coming from people who knew me as a teenager. I swallow, feeling tears well up. God, it’s like my first night at a support group. “She’s uh,” I start, and swallow again. “Helen passed away some time ago. Cervical cancer.”