Page 18 of Retrofit Analysis

“Oh, that’s too much,” she protests. “I just…” She drifts off and stares at her house. Takes a deep breath and fishes in her purse, shaking her head. “Thank you,” she concedes, handing me the key ring. “I’m working on saying yes to help.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods. “It’s new to me, having help offered. And even newer for me to accept. Ever since I walked in on Todd with that stupid, vapid asshole woman…” She drifts off. “You don’t want to hear about that. Anyway, I’m here now, living in my own house, and I’m saying yes to your generous offer to have your nephews fetch my car.”

“You and Jake should join us for dinner,” I blurt, before I can think twice about it. The words just fall from my mouth, right after she told me she felt overwhelmed by my offer to fetch her car. “I’d like it,” I say, and it’s true. “I like spending time with Jake. He’s so curious. And,” I pause, clear my throat, and fix my gaze directly on her eyes. “I like spending time with you, too, Beth. It’s good to see you after all this time.”

Her eyes well up, and I worry I’ve overstepped. She confessed a lot here in the past few minutes—her dirtbag husband not only isn’t there for his kid, but he was sleeping around on an amazing woman like Elizabeth. I worry about what I’ll do if I ever lay eyes on him. When she still doesn’t say anything, I add, “You don’t want to stand around and cook dinner tonight on that boot. And I don’t want to stand and cook, either. I’m ordering out. Burrito bar.” I decide it as I say it, knowing it’s a fantastic idea because I’ll have leftovers for a few days and not have to worry about my lunches.

She brightens at that idea and reaches into her bag again. “Let me chip in,” she says as I start waving her hands away. “Please, Kellen.” She thrusts a few twenties into my sweatpants pocket as I’m protesting and we both look down at her hand in my pants. I cough and adjust my stance, but based on the look on her face I’m too late.

My body definitely noticed her fingers near my cock even if my brain was busy trying to refuse her money. “Thank you,” I tell her. “I’ll order extra guac and make sure your boy gets his fair share.”

She nods rapidly. “See you around six?”

“Sounds perfect,” I tell her. I hurry back around to my side of the car and reverse across the street and into my garage. I shut off the engine and exhale long and slow. I’m going to need a few hours to calm down.

Fifteen

Kellen

I wake up with a cramp in my calf and remember I’m wearing my night splint for the old-man foot. After dinner last night, I was hurting something fierce. I kept walking around the kitchen like nothing was wrong, making sure we had enough plates and spoons, helping Jake get the right soda since he had opinions on the sell-by dates.

I took a lot of pain relievers before bed and fell asleep feeling old and decrepit. Sighing, I remove the hard plastic device and limp my way through my morning routine. It feels strange to go to work without exercising, like I’m starting the day without breakfast. But I haven’t figured out a low-impact workout option yet, so here we are.

I’m even earlier to the office than usual and am surprised to find Orla in the kitchen staring dreamily at her coffee. “Hey, sweetheart,” I say, greeting her with a kiss. I have an urge to pat her on the head and tug on her blond ponytail, but I resist, reminding myself that she’s an adult now.

“Morning, Dad.” She smiles and starts drinking her caffeine. I rock to one foot and wince, remembering the pain in my arch too late to avoid discomfort.

“Say,” I tell her, sinking into a plastic chair in the kitchenette. “I’ve been meaning to check in with you. I was going over some of my paperwork.” She pulls up a seat at the round table nodding. “You know you’ll inherit everything⁠—“

“Dad, Jesus. Not at work. Come on. You’re 50.”

“Yes, well, your mother was 35.” My retort jars her and she snaps her mouth shut, nodding. “Anyway, I was thinking of leaving the tools in the garage specifically to your cousin Callum. He uses them regularly and you don’t seem interested…”

I drift off as she stares at me. “Dad,” she says, setting her mug on the table. “You are not going to itemize your estate. You need to stop.”

“Preparation is a gift, Orla. This is a kindness for you.”

She shakes her head. “Having the paperwork in place is one thing. You’re a healthy man who gets his checkups regularly. You’re in perfect health.”

I want to rail back at her about my foot, about how this slow degradation of my body surely indicates the creeping arrival of the Grim Reaper, but Orla isn’t finished. “Dad,” she says, grabbing my hands and looking into my eyes. “I’m not just talking about itemizing. You’re not living your best life. You’re holed up.” I shake my head. Orla nods hers. “You are, Dad. But you know what I saw? I saw your entire face change when you were talking to your new neighbors. I saw you make that kid’s entire day better and yesterday I saw you convince him to taste sour cream on his burrito.”

“The flavor really ties the meal together,” I mutter.

She nods. “I know it. Now Jake does, too. When’s the last time you spent time with someone new like that? Really got to know someone?” I sigh. I feared she’d start in on me again about dating, but Orla raises a valid point. “Those film nerds you talk about are all on a chat group online,” she says. “You could totally be getting together in person for that hobby, but you’re not.” She sips her coffee and I stare at her. “If you want me to be ok with you giving Cal the tools, then I want you to promise to start doing more social things outside the family.”

I snort a laugh. “What a firecracker you are. Who raised you?”

She winks at me. “A guy who was dealt some bad cards and coasted on fumes for a lot of years.”

“You’re mixing metaphors, darling.”

She stands and puts her empty mug in the dishwasher. “Yeah, well, you’re festering away.” She plants a kiss on my forehead before I can come up with a retort and makes her way to her work space. I try to focus on my projects. Liam and I have meetings coming up to pitch inspection services to a few different power companies.

These are warm calls. My brother already went out there and wined and dined them. He’s the one with all the pop culture knowledge, who can strike up friendly conversation. I go in and talk about technical details. I can do that with half a mind. Have been for years, with barely any small-talk before or after.

It bothers me that I think Orla’s right about the social aspect of my life. I’ve been very focused on my family for…a very long time. I haven’t felt lonely. There’s too many Bradys in my business—literally at my work place. I chuckle at the thought of loneliness. Glancing at my calendar for today, I see I’m in meetings straight through for hours.