Chapter 20
ASHES TO ASHES
Dad sat me at the kitchen table and draped a blanket over my shoulders.
For just a moment, he wrapped me tight and squeezed like he’d done when I was a little kid with nightmares.
The sudden tactile memory caused me to cry again.
My tears flowed freely while Dad dabbed a wet paper towel across my face, wiping away the smoke and soot.
He had never been so tender with me before.
He made me a bowl of chicken noodle soup, straight from the can.
“It’s hot outside,” I said feebly, but he insisted it was good for my smoke-riddled sinuses.
I spooned the soup into my mouth, and Dad brought over crackers and ice water, and we sat there with a lone lamp on as the earth continued its dark slumber.
For a while, all was silent except for the occasional flickering of the lamp.
“You’ve been through a lot this summer,” Dad said eventually. He was slumped over the table with his chin in his hand, watching me carefully.
I looked blearily into his tired face. “So have you.”
Dad seemed to be a world away. “How many times did you call for an electrician?”
“At least three,” I said, watching his expression. “I think Hannah called once, too. And Hatch mentioned it to Grandpa in person.”
There was a hard line to Dad’s jaw. An angry flush mottled his neck. “Louisa … I’ve never been a violent man, but I’m just about ready to run him down in the street.” Dad’s muscles trembled. “I could tear him limb from limb for putting you in danger like that.”
I reached for his hand and gripped it tight. “I’m tired of wasting oxygen on Grandpa. He’s cut so many parts of us away. I think it’s time we cut him out. For good.”
Dad breathed deeply through his nose. “I agree with you.” He rubbed his thumb over my fingers. “I’ll get you that tuition money, even if the RU sale falls through. I’m not gonna let him hold the strings anymore.”
I nodded. We lapsed into silence again.
“Dad … I really am sorry about Uncle George. Not just what I did, but … I’m sorry you lost him. I’m sorry he left you here alone. I know he was your favorite person in the whole world—”
Dad laughed in a jarring, disruptive way. I stared at him as he gave me an incredulous look. “Honey. You think George was my favorite person? Don’t get me wrong, he’s up there … but, Louisa, you are my favorite person. You always have been. I’m not alone as long as I have you.”
His words were a salve on my blistering heart. I closed my eyes to truly take them in. “Dad, can I ask you something? When you and Mom got divorced … didn’t it bother you that I moved up north with her?”
“Oh, I missed you every day, jellybean,” Dad said softly.
“I never wanted you to leave. But your mom and I had a lot of conversations about what was best for you, and one major thing we agreed on was that giving you space from your grandparents was a good, good thing. This family was already starting to dim your light, just like they dimmed your mom’s. ”
I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Your mom never liked this town. I’m sure she’s told you.”
“Yeah…”
“She wasn’t meant for a small college town. She’d had enough of that growing up in Knoxville. I think she enjoyed her college years here, but she never wanted to stay long-term.” He smiled wryly. “Falling in love with a local frat boy wasn’t her plan.”
I smiled back. “It’s not your fault you were charming.”
Dad snorted. “Your mom—she found Rustin too small, too stifling. She wanted to move to New York or Chicago. She even mentioned Paris once. But I just … I couldn’t do it.
We tried to make it work, but neither one of us was happy.
The fact that she stayed as long as she did is a testament to how well she tried to love me. ”
I took this in. “That’s a really sweet thing to say.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Do you find it stifling here?”
“Yes,” Dad said immediately. He paused. “But once in a while, when I’m in the truck on a warm summer’s night, I swear I fall in love again.
There’s just something about this place, Lou.
The culture. The people. Yeah, there’s some assholes, but most people are good, decent humans, just salt-of-the-earth souls trying to get through the workweek and cheer for some football on Saturday.
” He exhaled. “This place is in my bones, Lou. It’s home. ”
I swallowed. “It’s my home, too. Even more than Connecticut, I think.”
Dad nodded. “I know. And I never wanted you to lose your home. But…” He hesitated, letting go of my hand to brush his fingers across his mouth.
“From the time you were young, I worried this place might suffocate you. My instincts said you weren’t gonna be going to debutante balls or bringing home boyfriends.
Maybe, deep down, I was worried you’d end up like Uncle George.
Twisting yourself to be different things to different people.
And I didn’t want you to struggle through that here.
Your mom said Connecticut, not far from the city, and I thought, That will be a place she can breathe. ”
I went stock-still. My heart thumped in my neck so forcefully that it hurt. “You knew I was gay?”
Dad looked into my eyes. “Probably? I mean, I had an inkling. And I knew how my family was, how poisonous they could be, and I didn’t want you folding in on yourself and thinking it was your fault. I didn’t want you trapped here.”
“Dad.” I was crying again, but it didn’t hurt: It felt good. It felt cleansing. “The way you tried to protect me from them—I wish you would do that for yourself, too. I wish you would love yourself.”
He hung his head, sniffling and swallowing. “When did my daughter get so wise?”
“When I started working at a bar.”
Dad laughed a wet, watery laugh. “All right, give your old man a hug.”
I let myself be swept up in his bear hug. He smelled like him. Like home.
“Get some sleep, jellybean. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“I love you, Dad.”
He rubbed my back and kissed my hair. “I love you, too.”
When I woke midmorning, Candor and Emma were sitting on my bed.
“Oooh!” Candor said softly. “You’re awake!”
I rubbed my eyes and sat up, Emma scooting over to give me space. My friends had anxious expressions as their eyes roved over me, taking me in. “Hi,” I said croakily. “When did you get here? What time is it?”
“About eleven,” Emma said, “and we got here a little while ago. Your dad made us coffee.”
I smiled. Dad.
“Lou, we are so, so sorry about the Cricket,” Candor began.
“And so, so glad you’re okay,” Emma finished.
My throat went tight. I couldn’t do more than nod. “Thank you.”
Candor scooted up the bed, wrapped her arm around me, and tucked me into her neck. She trailed her fingers through my hair while I cried silent tears. Emma held my hand, saying nothing, just letting me have my grief.
“You still smell like smoke,” Candor said after a while, shifting her cheek on my hair.
“I know. I spent twenty minutes in the shower last night but it’s still clinging to me.” I shifted out of her arms and sat up straighter, gently squeezing her knee to communicate my gratitude. “How did you hear what happened? Did my dad call you?”
Candor and Emma traded looks.
“No,” Emma said, “Aubrey did.”
I drew a breath. “How did she know?”
Emma shrugged. “Small town. Someone called her dad.”
“Louisa,” Candor said tentatively, and I knew what was coming. “Are you okay about all that?”
I met their eyes, feeling embarrassed. “Did she tell you what happened?”
“No. Just that you had a fight.”
That sounded like the Aubrey I knew. Even when she was angry and hurting, she considered it bad form to speak ill of me to my friends.
“I messed up,” I confessed.
Emma and Candor sat with that for a moment. “Well…,” Candor said, “maybe you can apologize. I’m sure she messed up, too.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“We know,” Emma assured me.
“I … I didn’t mean to hurt her in the beginning, either. I was just jealous. I was afraid you guys had upgraded from me.”
Candor made a soft clucking noise with her tongue. “Louisa, how could you think that?”
My eyes welled up without warning. “I guess I was worried you had outgrown me.”
Emma hesitated. “And maybe worried that you had outgrown us?” she asked knowingly.
I nodded, swallowing against the tightness in my throat.
“It’s okay,” Emma promised. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. For all three of us. Especially with college coming.” She glanced sadly at Candor. “But maybe we can give each other that space. Maybe we can trust that when we’re growing, we’re making more room, not less.”
Candor started to cry. “Em,” she sniffled, holding her fingers up to her eyelashes, “why are you putting me in my feelings before lunchtime?”
“We may not know you as well as we used to, Louisa Ebeneeza,” Emma said, clasping my hands in hers, “but I like to think we still know your heart. We’ll always know your heart.”
Candor cried harder, wiping her eyes on my duvet cover.
“When did you get so wise?” I asked fondly, echoing my dad’s question from the night before.
Emma shrugged. “I’ve always been emotionally astute. I’m, like, a suaveant.”
I burst out laughing, hearing Hatch in my head: Well, look at that, a business savant.
My heart panged.
“Guys,” I said urgently, swinging my bare legs onto the floor. “I have to get to the Cricket. See if I can save anything.”
“Can we help?” Candor asked, surfacing from her tears. “Or is this something you need to do alone?”
I stopped, considered. What a gift, to have friends like these, who weren’t directly impacted but still wanted to share in the pain, who wanted to love all the pieces of my heart. “I’d love some help.”
I cleaned myself up, got dressed, and let Emma and Candor pamper me with scrambled eggs and coffee. Then Dad appeared, listening to our plans.
“I’ll drive you,” he said.