25. Just Callin’ It Like I See It
Just Callin’ It Like I See It
MATTHEW
Istare at my plate of food. Haven’t been hungry in days.
“You don’t like it?”
I look across the table at Winnie, her little face distraught at the idea I’m not enjoying her dinner.
“Love it, Winnie. Taking my time. Savoring it. See?” I dip my fork into the mashed potatoes, the ones she loves that come from a box.
I put the bite of food in my mouth and feel my stomach turn, reminding me I’m not hungry. Not at all.
I manage to swallow it down. “Mmm . . . wow . . . incredible.”
Jesse snorts while Gwen gives me a small shake of her head. However, Winnie smiles, and that’s all that matters.
My insides churn with anger. Two days without Lillian, and I’m losing my mind.
Yet everything about it feels wrong. And if it feels wrong to be with her and wrong to be without her, what’s right?
The dinner table falls quiet again, save the snapping of the tab on Dad’s Dr. Pepper. He doesn’t drink on days we have family dinners at his place. For Winnie’s sake. That is until we all leave for the night. There is a customary rush once the dishes are washed to get us out of the house.
As he pours his third can of Dr. Pepper into his glass, he clears his throat and eyes me.
Fuck, what is it now?
“You getting the most out of your summer fling, Matty?” he asks.
Jesse laughs into his glass of water. I glare at my brother.
“Dad, not while Winnie’s here,” Gwen says in her soft, placating tone.
Dad swirls the ice in his glass like it’s whiskey on the rocks. “Just making conversation.”
I put my fork down. “Why don’t you just say what you want to say, instead of pretending you’re ‘just making conversation,’ Dad?”
Gwen lets out a long sigh. “Oh boy . . .”
“Are you guys going to fight?” Winnie pipes up. She’s used to it by now, sadly.
“Probably,” Jesse says with a mouthful of food.
I purse my lips together, cross my arms over my chest, and wait for the attack.
“I warned you.” Dad chuckles. He’s not drunk, so he’s not ornery. I’d almost like that better than him being a smug smartass. “Warned you not to get involved with her.”
“Who?” Winnie squeaks.
“Why do you care, Dad?” I ask.
“I care because people are talking about my son behind his back,” Dad replies. “Calling him nasty names I won’t repeat near sensitive ears.”
Winnie’s big eyes roll toward each of us, desperate for some modicum of understanding.
Poor kid.
“They think they’re gonna lose their jobs over her,” Dad goes on.
I hold my tongue. He might not be far off with that.
“And then they see you taking her out on your boat, out to dinner with her, trading spit in public?—”
“Trading spit?” Winnie gasps.
Gwen guides Winnie’s fork-holding hand toward her plate. “Eat your dinner, Winnie.”
“You’re a regular Benedict Arnold around here,” Dad says.
I rest my thumb on the bridge of my nose. “Okay. And?” They’ll all be baffled not to see Lillian and me around town anymore, then. They’ll all tell me I did the right thing.
Doesn’t feel right.
“They like each other, Dad,” Gwen interjects. “Just let him have it.”
Dad narrows his eyes at Gwen. “We all know how ‘liking’ turns out for this family.”
My sister swallows, her jaw hardening. Everyone avoids looking at Winnie, and Winnie is pleasantly distracted with her boxed mashed potatoes.
“Don’t do that,” I snap at him. Bringing Gwen into this and what happened with Winnie’s father isn’t fair.
Gwen holds up a hand. “It’s fine.” Too strong for her own good.
“Look, Dad, Lillian’s not coming here to turn Naknek upside down,” Gwen says.
“She really cares about the town. I mean, she’s getting to know people and learning about the way we do things around here.
She’s not just a suit or someone looking to be a hero.
She’s really trying to make a difference. ”
“Who said anything needs to be different around here? Goddammit,” Dad growls.
“Grandad!” Winnie admonishes.
“I know, I know. I shouldn’t say words like that,” he mutters.
Jesse and I exchange a look. Dad said whatever he pleased when we were kids. It’s nice he tries to turn a new leaf when it comes to Winnie, but it’s a hollow thing to watch, especially when we know the real him.
Gwen picks up Winnie’s plate from the table. “Go turn on the TV and eat there, alright?”
“Okay!” Winnie takes the plate and runs out of the dining room.
“Now, why’d you do that? She’s a big kid. She doesn’t need you pussyfooting around her, Gwen.” Dad sneers.
“I don’t care if she’s a big kid. She’s a kid, and I’d like for her to feel that way for as long as possible,” Gwen snaps back. “You don’t even know Lillian. It’s not fair for you to judge her without?—”
Jesse steps in now. “He doesn’t need to know her. He’s got her pegged.”
I glare at my brother. “Seriously?”
My brother is nonplussed by my attitude. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”
“You’re such a fucking—” I stop myself. Why do I feel so incensed? I could just tell them Lillian isn’t an issue anymore. Isn’t a problem. We realized our differences were too great just in time. Or maybe a little bit too late. And yet, I can’t bring myself to let anyone else know.
Maybe I’m not done. Maybe I was rash, letting the voices of my dad and brother infiltrate what Lillian and I were building.
“A fucking what?” Jesse nags.
“Quit it, Jess,” Gwen tries to interrupt.
Dad’s turn to get in on the fun. “No, let him. A fucking what, Matt?”
You’re just like him, I want to tell Jesse. Just like Dad. Stubborn and angry, and if he’s not careful, he’s gonna wind up just like him in the end. I won’t do that. Not right now. “So, what do we do if we just ignore what’s happening?” I ask as calmly as I can. “What do we expect to happen?”
“We handle our shit,” Jesse says. “Same as always.”
Dad nods. “Exactly.”
I laugh disdainfully. “But we’re not handling our shit. We’re going broke trying to make ends meet every season!”
“And that’s because—” Dad tries to interrupt.
I point in his direction. “Don’t you act like you know a goddamn thing about what’s going on out there while you’re drinking yourself to death, alright?”
Dad’s nostrils flare, but he says nothing.
Jesse shifts forward in his seat. “Jeez, Matt, what the hell is that about?”
“You know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. Well, that’s what we’re doing. All of us go out there and act like the coho season is somehow going to get better. Newsflash, it’s not. Because climate change, and?—”
Dad makes a strangled sound. “Not that liberal garbage. You’re better than that, Matt.”
“Dad, be reasonable.” Gwen tries to step in. “Everyone is struggling. Not just Matt and Jesse. And not because they’re doing a bad job. They’re working harder for less.”
“Thanks, Gwen,” I murmur.
She throws me a fleeting, apologetic smile.
“So, all the more reason you shouldn’t be distracted. That’s all,” Dad says, the vinegar in his voice muted now.
“But that’s not all. Because you’re talking out of your ass. You have no idea what she’s working on or what she’s trying to do, and?—”
“So, you leaving with her? When she goes back to La-La Land?” Dad stares me down and waits until our eyes lock. “Has she poisoned you so much against your own blood that you gonna get the hell out of town too?”
I shake my head in disbelief, unable to speak.
If he only knew how I had betrayed Lillian just two days ago in favor of my home, in favor of the place and people that raised me, because I believed I couldn’t have both.
I chose home. And I’m still being treated like a turncoat.
I’m thirty-five fucking years old, and I’m still under the thumb of my father, who can barely stand up straight most days. “She’s trying to help. That’s all.”
And that’s the truth.
Dad sniffs. “You can’t trust everyone, Matt.”
“Neither can you, apparently. Can’t even trust your own son,” I say, then push myself out from the table. “I’m gonna go.”
My brother and father don’t stop me, but Gwen follows close behind. I leave the dining room and head into the front room where Winnie is sitting in front of the television, eating mashed potatoes with her hands.
“Matt, wait a second,” my sister says.
I’ll always stop for her. “What?”
Gwen grabs me by the arms and smiles at me. She’s so tired. I can see it on her face. I can’t believe I’m piling my antics onto everything else she has to deal with. “Don’t listen to them, okay? Dad doesn’t know what it means to care about anyone anymore, and I don’t think Jesse has ever learned.”
My ribcage threatens to split open.
I cared for Lillian. I still care for her. I know what that word means, what it feels like. And I let all the noise get in the way of that.
“You know what you’re talking about, Matty. I believe you. I believe her. And I know that my opinion doesn’t mean much in the scheme of?—”
“It means everything, Gwen. You know that,” I tell her.
Gwen smiles gratefully. I touch her cheek, giving it a gentle pinch. My little sister. Too often left to pick up the pieces for everyone else. “Thanks, sis.”
She goes to the door and opens it for me. “Say bye to Uncle Matt,” Gwen instructs Winnie.
“Bye, Uncle Matt,” Winnie says.
I laugh at how she doesn’t even look away from the television. “Bye, Win.”
I head out the door and only get a few steps before Gwen calls out after me, “Tell her ‘hi’ from me.”
As I drive down the highway, I count the seconds until I pass by the turnoff for Lillian’s cabin. And once I do, I don’t get much farther before I pull my truck over and try to settle my racing heart. I rub my hand over my chest and lean my head back, cinching my eyes closed.
I fucked it up. I fucked it all up.
I should just go home. But the thought of going to that empty house right now and having to hear my own breathing makes me want to drive my truck into the river.
Fishing has nothing to do with Lillian and me. We can exist apart from that. Can’t we?
Before I realize what I’m doing, I pull my phone out of the cup holder and tap on her contact. The phone rings and rings. And in the middle of the third ring, she answers.
“Hey.” Her voice is unsure but not unfriendly.
“Hey,” I reply, my brain frozen.
“Is . . . everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, yeah. I mean, no, but, uh—” I swallow. “I was just with my family, and my dad and Jesse were being idiots. And it made me realize what an idiot I was being the other day.”
Lillian lets out a timid soft laugh, and the weight lifts off my shoulders. “Well, at least you know it.”
“I owe you an apology.”
“I owe you one, too.”
I place my hand on the steering wheel and tap my thumb against it.
“Do you want to come over, and . . . apologize in person?” she asks.
I pull back onto the road before I say, “I’ll be over in five.”
When I pull up in front of her cabin, Lillian already has the door open. She leans on the doorframe, waiting for me in a pair of plush sleep pants and a sweatshirt, her hair clipped back out of her face.
I try not to run to her. But god, does it feel nice to see her with a smile on her face again.
“That was less than five,” she says as I ascend the steps of her cabin.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “I can wait in the car if you need the extra three.”
Lillian shakes her head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She reaches for me and I for her. We hold each other in the doorway. Two days was far too long. I’ve become so accustomed to her that my body craves her.
I kiss the crown of her head, inhaling her scent.
“I missed you,” she whispers. “Is that stupid?”
“Only because I was a jerk.”
Lillian laughs, her breath on my neck. “Did you miss me?”
I kiss her in answer.