Page 103 of The Fall Classic

“Thanks,” I say. My dad jumps up to give me a long hug that I barely feel.

Then he backs up and holds my shoulders, his brown eyes taking me in like he’s really, truly missed me. “Hi, sweet pea. How are you?”

My dad’s voice sounds like rolling hills and the open road.

“Fine, Dad. You?”

“Oh, you know me,” he says, returning to his seat. I sit next to Lulabelle, letting the space between us stand as the most obvious symbol in the world. “Always busy. Yesterday after a four-hour surgery, I got a call that another rep left his car running with a trunk full of spinal trays worth a hundred K, and they got stolen. I had to rush to the hospital with mine,” he says, and launches into the story of how he saved the day with a patient on the operating table. Marlowe, Nicolette, and Mark are riveted.

“Aunt Georgie, look,” Lulabelle says, and I gladly turn from the story. “I made the unicorn’s horn black.”

“Very emo,” I say.

“No way! It’s not emo. It’s pretty.”

“Who said emo can’t be pretty?”

“Uh, everyone?” she says.

Soon, my dad’s on to another story and another, not for a moment considering asking someone a question or assuming someone else might have something to say, and he’s handsome and charismatic enough that everyone lets him get away with it. That’s the power of being such an adept salesman that you can sell people a story that makes them feel like they were in the room with him.

Poor Marlowe is eating up every word.

“But that’s enough about saving lives. Tell me how the shop is,” he says, and I make the mistake of looking up. Unfortunately, that means his eyes stop on mine instead of Marlowe’s.

So I look to her, instead, eyebrows up in curiosity. Something flickers across her face like a shadow. “We’re still trending in the right direction and paying off the loan,” she says.

“I’ll say.” Dad gives her a kiss, and the way she glows makes me look away. “I saw a payoff amount for the truck when I stopped by the house earlier. Marlowe, you’re a miracle worker. You should come with me to Columbia next week. You can help me wine and dine Veritas Med Supply. We’ll have fun.”

Marlowe’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “The shop⁠—”

“The shop’s fine, you said it yourself,” Dad says, kissing Marlowe’s hand. “Alma and the girls could run it in their sleep.”

“You should, Mom,” Nicolette says. “You and Raymond need some time. I can keep an eye on things.”

I keep my eyes on Lulabelle’s coloring page, where she’s moved on to a maze.

“It’s a delicate time,” Marlowe says. Does she want Dad to press her, or does she want him being more impressed? “The truck was a significant investment at Georgie’s request. It’s done well in spite of everything, but we’ve had to hire another worker because she couldn’t run it on her own. And she still doesn’t have her inventory down, considering how many runs she has to make back to Mullet Ridge for supplies. It requires constant oversight.”

Every new word is like a hand cracking across my face.

I send her the numbers every day! I know the truck’s doing well! And what started as breaks for me to see Logan have become the very real supply runs that allow me to work such long hours at two different locations.

Yet somehow, I’m still a disappointment to her. An inconvenience.

She wanted a husband and instead she got stuck with me.

And that husband of hers is hanging on every word, never once defending me. It doesn’t occur to him that of course a single person can’t run an entire coffee truck moving such a high volume of product every day by herself without ever taking a break. He doesn’t tell her that the truck doing well isn’t in spite of me but because of me.

Angry tears prick the back of my eyes, but I will not let them fall.

And when I see my dad get that dreamy look on his face, my disgust is so overpowering the tears vanish completely.

“The truck,” he says.

He had this look when he invested in a time-share that he and my mom never got to use but he and Marlowe do occasionally. He had it when he poured every penny he had into that restaurant in Columbia.