Chapter 20
20
L ucas tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel. The rain fell in an unholy torrent, traffic on the Watterson moved at a crawl, and he drove to his doom with Joan in tow. She gripped the truck’s handle with immovable dedication.
“It’s apocalyptic out here.” Joan squinted at the cars in front of them, which were hard to make out even as his wipers whipped furiously back and forth.
“I can call and cancel.” He slid a brief glance at her.
“It’s your dad’s sixtieth. We’ll make it work.”
They arrived thirty minutes late, with the two of them struggling to carry drinks and spinach dip under an ineffectual umbrella. Wind and rain battered them from the sidewalk to the door. His mother, Julia, answered the doorbell.
“How come your door’s locked when you’re having a party?” Lucas’s tone came out more accusatory than he intended, but he already teetered on the edge.
“I’m sorry.” His mom put her hand on her hip as they stepped into the entryway. Puddles collected under their feet on the hardwood floor. “I didn’t realize it was locked.”
He didn’t antagonize her further. He still hoped the day could be amicable, and his problem lay with his dad, not with her.
“Good to see you, Joan,” his mom said. She squeezed Joan into a hug. “Goodness, it’s a downpour out there.” She plucked her shirt away from her body, which was splotchy with water from Joan’s raincoat. Lucas thought she looked a little thinner than usual, and her makeup didn’t cover the shadows under her eyes.
“Joan Coleman,” a deep voice said from the hallway. Lucas’s dad emerged from behind Julia. He clapped Joan on the shoulder. “Hello, dear.” His attention turned to Lucas. “Glad you could make it, son. I was getting worried you might skip out on me.”
Lucas bit his tongue so hard he almost drew blood. His father made it sound like it was his fault there might be fractures in their relationship.
“Happy birthday,” Joan said to him.
Lucas relaxed his jaw enough to echo her birthday wishes.
“Party’s in here.” Julia ushered them toward the living room and kitchen area, where one of his uncles chortled at something Jacob said. His parents had cleaned, he noted. The last time he’d visited, stacks of magazines lay piled on countertops and dust collected on furniture. The mess should have been a clue about their personal problems. The counters now gleamed for his father’s birthday, however, and the dining room table had been cleared. “We had to move the party inside,” his mother continued. “Kind of a shame.”
Lots of partygoers, including his dad’s siblings as well as his parents’ friends, shuffled through the house. People walked sideways to get to and from the drink table. He pulled his shirt collar away from his chest, choked by the atmosphere.
Jacob stood near the kitchen island talking to some family members, and he and Joan wound through the crowd to reach him.
“Good turnout.” Lucas peered around. “Glad the Michigan contingent could make it.” He nodded toward his Uncle Steve and their young cousins.
“I guess they’re staying here,” Jacob said, leaning in to whisper. “Hopefully they don’t open the guest room closet. Probably full of MREs and first aid kits.”
Lucas laughed.
Joan cocked her head to one side. “I kinda wonder if you’re joking.”
“Who knows,” Jacob said. “Mom and Dad went through this weird prepper phase a while back. I think they’re past it, but it’s liable to be something different now.”
Lucas and Joan parked there for a while as others came by to greet them. When the party wound down later that night and his uncle had gone upstairs with his kids, his parents invited them to sit down.
“I’ll hang for a little bit.” Lucas shuffled into the living room with Joan at this side. Jacob followed.
“That was nice,” Jacob said blandly. It surprised Lucas that Jacob seemed more comfortable than him. Of the two of them, his friends and family regarded Lucas as the more relaxed one.
“I’m glad so many people came.” His mom gripped the sides of her chair.
No one said anything for a few moments. A protracted grumble of thunder punctuated the silence.
“How’s retirement treating you?” Joan looked to Julia.
“She’s certainly found time to pester me,” his father said, and Lucas’s stomach clenched. “Honey-do lists and such.” The fucking nerve.
His dad noticed the tightness in his jaw. “Is there something wrong, Luke?”
Lucas started to shake his head, but he thought better of it. He couldn’t stand the secrecy any longer.
“You did it again, didn't you?” His head whipped toward his father.
Jacob was making a “cut it out” motion across his throat from his corner of the room, but Lucas gathered momentum instead. This intense, prolonged anger was new for him. It fit him about as well as a size small shirt.
Greg raised his eyebrow, and at that moment Lucas hated they shared that particular skill.
“On my birthday? Do we have to do this on my birthday?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t cheat if you don’t want anyone to bring it up.”
His mom squeaked, a tiny noise of distress that almost penetrated Lucas’s anger. Jacob’s face had turned the color of bone.
“Fine.” His dad sighed. “I did, but we are working on it again. Are you happy now?”
Lucas’s jaw muscle popped as he ground his teeth. His mother sat off to one side of the room, wringing her hands in her lap. He shouldn’t be mad at her; she was the victim in this situation, after all, but he wanted her to stand up for herself.
“Dad. Seriously? Again?” Jacob found his voice.
“I’m sorry. I really am. But this is between Pam and I.”
Lucas shot up from his spot on the couch. “Actually, I gotta get up early,” he said. At his parents’ distressed expressions, he glanced at his watch. “Sorry. I just realized how late it is.” He offered a half-hearted wave in the direction of his father. “Happy birthday, dad.”
His parents and Jacob rose to say goodbye. At his mother’s confused look, he lifted his shoulders.
“Sorry,” he said again.
When he and Joan were safely in the car, he exhaled a long, slow breath.
“I wish you hadn’t seen that,” he said.
“You really did the whole ‘will you look at the time’ schtick back there,” she said. “You want to talk about anything?”
He shook his head. “I’m okay. I think I’ve had rose-colored glasses on when it comes to my dad, that’s all,” he said. “If he showed more remorse, maybe it would be better. But he’s picking at my mom, which is unfathomable to me. If they’re going to counseling, it isn’t getting through to him.”
“I hate that you guys are going through this,” she said. “At least you have Jacob.”
“True. He is an ally most of the time, but somehow we keep landing on different sides of the reaction spectrum. He seemed mad the other day when he confronted Dad, but now he’s acting like we shouldn’t talk about it. I don’t get it.” Lucas blew out another controlled stream of air until his blood pressure steadied.
“You want to go somewhere else? A bar or something? You still look extremely tense. I’ll drive if you want.”
She brushed the hem of her frayed shorts with a pink-polished finger. The fact it was summer and her legs were always on display was driving him to absolute madness, especially given their recent deal. He stared at the road, where at least it wasn’t pouring anymore. His attention moved back to her question.
“Actually, yeah. Let’s go.”