Page 32 of Engineering a Love Story

I repeat some of what I said before: nice guy, great family. “We went over this.”

I don’t really want to explain that when Ash proposed, it hadn’t felt like rushing. At twenty-three, I was years older than my mother had been when she married before she graduated from high school—or didn’t graduate, more accurately. And her situation hadn’t been any kind of scandal. Many of her friends were married and mothering before they turned eighteen. By the time I married Ash, I had high school friends who were already married and cousins, barely older than I was, with two or more children. I went to college, met this great guy from away—I had been prudent.

But I won’t say any of this now.

“What about your parents, did they approve?” Seth asks.

I look at him, wishing we didn’t have to go into a discussion of my mother, one I always struggle to have. I’m never sure if I should tell people quickly or wait so long, they end up thinking I’m repressed. “My mother passed when I was in high school,” I say. Back then, at least I never had to explain it, though no one knew what to say. The other kids either asked me how I was all the time or ignored me completely. Honestly, I preferred the latter. “It was only my dad when I got married.”

Seth shifts to his side. “God, I’m sorry. Can I ask what happened?”

She had chronic bronchitis, I explain, her smoker’s cough worse than anything anyone in her thirties should have. “Her barky rattle is probably my strongest memory of her.” Later, after spending time in all those light, airy Kelsey houses, I realized how dingy and damp my father’s post-war ranch was, even in a cold New England winter. I’m sure that poor air didn’t help her, but if she was aware of that aggravation, she didn’t mention it. She probably missed as many shifts as she worked at the hospital due her unending cycle of colds and coughs. But she still went in sick sometimes.

One morning, driving home before the sun was up, she ran a stoplight. “The minivan that hit her was on its way to the hospital, a croupy baby in the back. They were okay, thankfully. We don’t know if she dozed or if something was wrong with her shitty car.” Back at the hospital, she lived a few more hours.

“That’s tragic.”

“It is. Was.” My skin prickles. “A long time ago now.”

“Then it was just you and your dad?”

I nod. “My brother left for college that same year.”

“Are you close with him? Your father?”

I exhale. “It’s complicated.” Seth pulls up a heavier blanket. I settle beneath it.

He asks what my father does for a living, and I tell him about the toothbrush factory.

“For real?”

“Of course. ProBrush. Which is short for Prophylactic Brush. I’m not even kidding.”

Seth chuckles. “Wow. That word. Is that twice in one day? You don’t usually hear it so often.”

“Unless of course you’re my father and his brothers. You can imagine the jokes.”

Seth laughs again and brushes a finger along my forearm. “I can. So, brothers. Your uncles? How many?”

“My dad is the youngest of four, though only three of them are living.”

“And do they all work at Prophylactic Brush?”

I tip on my side. “His brothers were at the paper mill initially. That closed years ago and then they were together at ProBrush for a while, but they’ve all been laid off now except for my dad, who might only be cleaning machines and keeping the lights on at this point. The days of manufacturing plastic toothbrushes in Massachusetts are over.”

“Yes.”

Seth moves to his back, pulling me closer. I feel lighter, having put all that out there. My eyes are sore and a little heavy. I wonder if I might be able to nap, but I know it’s unlikely. It doesn’t matter. There will be plenty of time to sleep back in Boston. I rest against Seth’s chest.

“What about you?” I tilt my head up. “Tell me about your dad.”

“Mr. Joe Murphy? What would you like to know?” I shrug. Seth tells me his father builds houses. “And condos. And apartments. He’s one of the largest residential real estate developers in Orange County. And he’d be the first one to tell you that. He’s made and lost several fortunes.” His hand traverses the air as if he’s tracing the track of a roller coaster.

“Wow.”

Seth is quiet, then he continues. “He and my mom divorced when I was in high school. I don’t have much contact with my father these days.”

“And your mom?”