Page 51 of Exchanged

“If it doesn’t pay the bills, it’s a hobby,” Dad says.

“Joe—” Aunt Liz starts, but he cuts her off, his voice raised.

“He’s a kid, Liz. I’m his parent. I have to make sure he doesn’t make stupid mistakes like spending a couple hundred thousand dollars to go to a school in … Where did you say this place is?”

“Los Angeles.”

Something like a roar erupts from the back of his throat. “Los Angeles! Are you so desperate to get away from us that you want to move to the other side of the country?”

I feel heat rushing to my cheeks. “Maybe I am! Maybe I’m desperate to actually do something with my life!” The room is still, so still, like everyone is watching a glass teetering on the edge of the table, waiting for it to fall and shatter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t want to be stuck in this fucking town running an antique shop for the rest of my life! Maybe I don’t want to have to worry about not being able to support my family because I forgot to bring five thousand dollars to the bank!”

The air is sucked out of the room. Dad looks at me like he doesn’t recognize the person sitting across from him. Aunt Liz looks at Dad. Emma and Garrett look at their plates. The problem with a family as close as ours is that you know exactly what will hurt someone the most, and once you say it, you can’t take it back.

When Dad speaks, his voice is soft. “I’m sorry you feel stuck here, Enzo. I hope your new life in Los Angeles is better than the one I’ve been able to give you.”

He slides his chair back, stands up, and leaves the room.

Dad and I avoid each other for the next few days, speaking in clipped sentences only when necessary. I’m too ashamed to look at him, ashamed by what I said, ashamed at how foolish I seemed in my belief that I could attend college in L.A., like a child asking for a pony for Christmas.

The weather stays gray and cold, and then it’s the deer season opener.

Every year, Dad closes the shop for a couple of days and heads to deer camp with his friends. Emma and I are invited, but neither of us has any interest in sitting in a deer blind for ten hours a day, freezing our asses off, in the hope of ending the life of a woodland creature. So instead, we spend the weekend at Aunt Liz’s place, working our way through a bottomless pot of risotto and watching cheesy rom-coms.

On the morning of the opener, Emma and I sit at the kitchen island with our bowls of cereal. I avoid eye contact with Dad as he carries gear out the back door to his truck. Then Garrett walks in, one of Dad’s rifle cases hefted over his shoulder, wearing a too-large camo jacket and a bright orange vest.

My eyebrows shoot up. “You’re going?”

“You’re surprised a city kid would go hunting?”

I swallow a mouthful of Cheerios. “No. I’m surprised you’d want to spend four days in the woods with a bunch of middle-aged men.”

“We’ll find something to talk about,” he says.

Of course they will. I picture Garrett effortlessly picking up the inside jokes and banter Dad shares with his friends.

“Plus,” he continues, “I feel like I’d be missing a major part of the exchange experience if I didn’t do this, since it’s such a big deal and everything.”

Emma looks up at me from the book she’s reading. “Are you going to apologize to Dad before he leaves?”

“Why would I apologize?”

“One of you has to.”

Garrett squeezes my shoulder. “I’m on Team Enzo.” It’s the first time he’s touched me since that Friday night he doesn’t seem to remember, and the brief, solid warmth from his hand spreads through my body.

Then the back door opens and Dad steps in. He’s been letting his beard grow out for the last couple of weeks, and he looks particularly gruff and unfazable, like nothing I could say or do would affect him. He steps over and gives Emma a side hug on her stool. His eyes flit to me and I receive the smallest of nods, and then he and Garrett walk out the door. I hear his truck engine start, and they’re off.

“So,” Aunt Liz says, snuggling in next to me on the couch and placing a bowl of popcorn on my lap. “You’re going to be a composer?”

Her living room is warm and cozy, with her own art decorating the walls. The Holiday plays on the TV, and Emma has fallen asleep, curled and catlike, in the big armchair in the corner. What makes this movie fantastic is the way Hans Zimmer balances his poignant, lilting piano and string melodies with upbeat themes that echo Hollywood’s golden age. It’s pure rom-com soundtrack genius, which fits because Jack Black plays a film composer in Los Angeles.

“I haven’t applied yet. It was just an idea.”

“Still, it’s exciting.” She carefully watches my face for a reaction.