13
The Great Pretender
Mitch
The backyard seems smaller now than it did when I was a kid. Then again, it could be the awareness of my father’s life ending that shrinks everything down.
I’m standing across the yard, by the fence, pulling out weeds, but really, I’m trying to ignore the anxiety thumping in my chest. I have an idea of why Dad’s called us here today and I’m dreading it.
His oxygen tank hums like a grinding motor and he looks all wrong. He’s thin and weak. The cancer is winning the battle and slowly erasing him. But when his eyes meet mine, they’re still sharp and aware.
“Nice of you to help out,” Dad rasps from the deck.
“Yeah, well, one of us has to do it,” I joke, throwing the weeds into the compost bin.
“Always a smartass,” he replies and I see his mouth twitch.
I dust off my hands, stepping up onto the porch and cross my arms, leaning against the post. The silence stretches between us, the way it’s done ever since I came back to town. Slightly uncomfortable, but no less usual for us.
Then, Maxine walks through the patio door and I don’t even need to look at her to see she doesn’t want to be here. Her reluctance hangs in the air like static before a storm breaks.
“Sit down,” Bill says, but neither of us moves. “That wasn’t a suggestion,” he insists.
I roll my eyes, but drag a chair closer to him, anyway. It scrapes loudly against the wooden deck. I sit, leaning back, making a show of being far more at ease than I actually am.
The last time Dad asked us to come over, we found out about the inn. I can only imagine what bomb he’s about to drop today.
He studies us for a long time, then grabs a piece of paper from the table beside him.
“I wrote you something,” he says, unfolding the letter. He perches his glasses on the end of his nose. “In case I didn’t get the chance to read it out loud.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t,” I reply. “Save us both the awkwardness.”
“Do I need to be here for this?” Maxine asks.
“Yes, you do. This affects the both of you,” he begins, his voice shaky but steady enough. “As I was saying. I’ve never been very good at expressing what’s in my heart, but I’ll try. Mitchell, despite everything that’s happened between us, I’ve always been proud of you and your accomplishments.”
My jaw tightens, and I grimace. “This is weird. You don’t need to—”
“Let me finish.”
I shut up, mostly out of reflex. The authority in his tone reminds me of when he’d yell from the bleachers at my matches in the junior league.
“From the day you were born,” he continues, “you’ve brought me incredible joy. I can see you’ve grown into a strong man. Better than I ever was.”
That’s a low bar, I think, but keep my mouth shut and stare out at the garden.
“It pains me that we never mended things. That I didn’t try harder over the years. That I didn’t explain or own what I did.”
That makes me look at him. He shifts in his chair, wincing.
“Thirteen years ago, I made the worst mistake of my life.”
I glance over at Maxine, who stiffens, dropping her chin.
“I had an affair,” he says plainly.
I bark out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, Dad. We know all this. It’s a bit late, don’t you think?”
“If you’d stop interrupting, you’d see I’m trying to be honest here.”
“That’s new,” I shoot back.
“Mitch, shut up and let the man speak,” Maxine snaps.
Surprised, I glare at her. She widens her eyes as if to say, What?
“I hurt people who didn’t deserve it,” Dad says.
“I broke everyone’s trust. And instead of fixing the fallout, I ran and left you two to deal with it.
I told myself time would fix things. I thought if I wasn’t around…
That distance might make it all easier.” He shakes his head faintly.
“But I see now that it only made things worse. It tore you two apart.”
Maxine’s face remains stoic.
“What did you expect?” I snap.
“I didn’t expect you two to be where you are now,” Bill replies.
“And where are we now?”
“Alienated. Repeating my mistakes.”
I can’t even come up with anything to say. He looks at Maxine, his eyes softening in a way I can tell makes her uncomfortable. She shifts to lean on the wall, adjusting her stance, then returns to her original spot. She’s skittish. She doesn’t want to be here. No more than I do.
“I just needed to apologize,” he says. As if he spent most of his energy, he exhales weakly and his shoulders drop. “To say I’m sorry. Out loud. Before the opportunity gets taken from me.”
I swallow hard, totally aware of Max’s blue eyes on me, but still can’t look her way.
“I don’t expect forgiveness,” Bill adds. “From either of you. And I regret not reaching out to you sooner, Mitch. Not finding the words.”
“Why?” I ask suddenly, sharper than I meant to. “Why did you do it?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I was selfish and had it all. A beautiful wife and son. A great home. But I wanted to take something that wasn’t mine. And I was arrogant and thought I’d never lose what I had.” Dad turns his gaze fully on me. “You two…”
Maxine tenses immediately. “Don’t.”
“Oh, I’m going to,” Bill replies.
There’s an unspoken understanding that floats between them, as if this conversation isn’t new. Yet again, it’s like I’m on the outside, looking in. “What’s going on?”
“You’re both acting like cowards,” Dad answers bluntly.
Maxine scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“We’re the cowards? That’s rich, coming from you,” I retort.
“Probably,” he admits. “But it doesn’t make me wrong.”
“We’re trying to work together. We’ve done what you’ve asked.”
Bill raises an eyebrow. “Sure. From where I’m sitting, you’re both wasting time pretending you don’t feel something that’s painfully obvious to everyone around you.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You and Maxine,” Dad says, nodding at her. “Circling each other like idiots.”
A brittle laugh forces its way out of my mouth. “You’re delusional. There’s nothing going on.”
“Bullshit. You think I don’t see it?” he replies, cocking his head. “The way you look at her. How she acts like you don’t exist?”
“It’s not like that,” Maxine says, her face flushed.
Bored, Bill sighs. “Denial won’t make this thing between you disappear.”
“It’s not denial. There’s nothing between us,” Maxine corrects, fire in her eyes.
“Then why are you still here?” Bill asks.
She frowns. “You invited me over. But say the word and I’ll leave.”
“No, I mean why, after what I did to your family? What I did to you. Why did you stick around? You could have left, like Mitch did.” He doesn’t look at me, and I try to ignore how his words cut, but he barrels on. “Instead, you stayed. And worst of all, you started working at the inn.”
I don’t miss the quick way she glances at me, then darts her eyes down. “Someone had to help Robyn.”
“Sure, but it didn’t have to be you.” He shakes his head, taking a long, rattly inhale. “Maxine, you cared enough to show up every day. Even now, you’re always here, helping me, the man who played a part in ruining your life—”
“You didn’t ruin my life,” she counters, rolling her shoulders back.
“I didn’t make it better, that’s for sure.”
He offers a tight smile, and she agrees with a small shrug.
“You care enough to keep arguing with me about my treatments,” he continues. “And to keep splitting hairs with Mitch about the inn. So why don’t you care enough to admit how you feel?”
“Because there’s nothing to admit,” Maxine insists, but a slight break in her voice betrays her conviction. “Shit happened. We’re both trying to move on. It’s that simple.”
Bill studies her for a long minute, then watches me, as if waiting for me to say something. When we remain quiet, he drops his head, shaking it.
“You’re both so angry,” he says.
“Yeah,” she replies. “No kidding.”
“But not at me.”
My stomach drops, and Maxine hugs herself tighter at the same time.
“Don’t psychoanalyze us,” she says.
“I don’t have to,” Bill answers. “It’s written all over your faces.”
She looks away, but then her gaze lands on me, and something passes between us. It’s quick, but feels alive. And dangerous.
I know what I should say. What’s fighting to be freed behind my closed lips. But as I told myself day one, I won’t be the one to make the first move.
Right on cue, Bill succumbs to a coughing fit. Rough, ugly sounds fill the backyard. When he catches his breath, his voice is quieter, but still carries the confidence that even lung cancer can’t steal. “Find the words. Apologize. Say what you need to say before it’s too late.”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. This is all too much. I shake my head and stand up abruptly, the chair scraping back. “I’m done with this.”
Dad reaches out for my hand and somehow grabs it. I could easily pull mine free, his grip is so weak, but I let him hold it. “Apologize when you’re wrong, Mitch. Ask for forgiveness.”
“Like I said—”
“And even if you think they don’t want to hear it,” he goes on, locking his eyes on mine, “make them listen.”
I draw my hand back. My chest is tight. Too tight.
Over my shoulder I glance at Maxine who seems to be looking right through me as if I’m not even there. For a moment, I consider speaking my truth. Just saying something.
Anything.
But when she finally drags her eyes up to meet mine, I see the silent plea for me to keep my mouth shut. To not push this any further.
“We’re fine,” she insists, jutting her chin.
My dad’s right—we are fucking cowards.
I let out a quiet, humorless breath. “Yeah. We’re totally fine.”
Bill looks between us, deep sadness darkening his face. “You two are the worst liars I’ve ever met,” he murmurs.
Maxine turns around and leaves, not bothering to look at me again. And I’m glad she didn’t, because if she looked at me any longer with that deep sadness in her eyes, I’m not sure I could keep pretending.
And right now, pretending is the only thing holding me together.
Max
By the time Bradford Bradshaw pours the third round of wine, I know I won’t be leaving this dinner unscathed.