All the Good Parts (22 page)

“You can’t avoid me in this house,” Carly said, sitting at the end of Maura’s bed.

“Shush, you’ll wake her.” Josie’s small body felt warm and comforting beside me. I’d fallen asleep just like her, dropping into it hard and fast, and coming back to wakefulness felt like getting out of a warm shower and realizing I’d forgotten a towel.

“She’s already up, aren’t you, my little elf?” Carly took Josie into her arms, who snuggled into her mother’s embrace. Carly closed her eyes and inhaled the soothing scent of baby. “I have to tell you something,” she said quietly.

“Have you decided to stay in Chicago?”

“No, of course not,” Carly said sharply. “Especially not now.”

“Why not now?”

Her hand trembled as she rubbed a circle on Josie’s back. “Can I tell you something without you judging me?”

“Of course,” I said, which, in sister language, meant,
I will judge you, but silently
.

Carly took another deep breath. “It was me, okay? I forgot to pay the taxes. Donal put me in charge because he was worried about doing a bad job.”

I said something in the proximity of “Oh.” A squeak to acknowledge I’d heard what she said, but I had no response to my sister actually fucking up. The tiny part of my brain housing bitterness and unresolved anger piped up, but I shoved it back into place when she continued, unshed tears rasping her voice.

“We probably wouldn’t have to worry about this at all if I hadn’t messed up. I feel sick about it. Like I might throw up everything inside until I’m this empty, hollow sack.”

“You made a mistake,” I said slowly.

“Three times is not a mistake, it’s a habit.”

“Why would you do something like that?”

Carly held Josie tighter. “I decided not to pay quarterly because I couldn’t work it into the budget. The first year I did fill out an extension form, but then we always had a bill to pay and I knew we owed money. After the first time, nothing really happened, so it was easy to do it again. I figured by the time the government came after us, I’d have the money to settle up.”

I groaned. “You’re lucky that judge didn’t send you to jail.” I lifted myself up onto my elbow. “I have a few thousand dollars in a savings account. You are welcome to all of it.”

A tear escaped from Carly’s eye, and she swiped at it. “I love you,” she said. “Very much. But I’m not taking your money.”

“I love you and I want you to have it. You
need
it.”

She sighed. “I know you love me, Lee.”

“Donal loves you, too,” I added, “with all his heart. He should have been railing at you until your ears were seeping blood. I would have. Instead, he holds your hand. You know how rare that is, right?”

“That’s why I’m going with him to Ireland.” We were quiet for a moment, and then she nudged my arm. “You’re going to come with, aren’t you? We can’t live halfway around the world without you, and I don’t think you want to be alone. Why didn’t you say yes downstairs?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stand putting more disappointment on those little faces if the answer was no. Why did you put me on the spot?”

“I had to. You always need a nudge.”

“That’s not true.”

“Is it Garrett? Do you hope something is starting with him?” She placed Josie on the floor and lined up some blocks in front of her.

“I asked him,” I said, and instantly felt weird about it, like I was also confessing something shameful. “Actually, Maura asked him, and he said he’d help me out.”

“Oh.” Carly worried at her lower lip. I did that, destroying myself in small bits, biting at my lip or cuticles, picking at my face, overplucking things that didn’t need plucking. But she didn’t.

“What? Say it.”

“Do you really think using him is a good idea?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m the last person to be lecturing you about risk . . .” She paused, waiting for me to agree with her assessment and shut her down. When I did nothing, she went on. “You don’t know his . . . history.”

“He’s from the South. Smart. Polite. Not at the top of his game right now, but who is?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said quietly.

Oh. Yeah. I got it. Garrett could be a walking petri dish of STDs and a vast array of antiquated communicable diseases that crop up in those who regularly sleep in alleys and shelter dormitories. He could have a raging drug habit, or an untreated mental disorder, or even a treated one, chaos residing just under the skin, kept from breaking free by a cocktail of unpronounceable drugs provided by the state. I’d be a liar if I claimed the unknown didn’t bother me, but I’d weighed these possibilities against what I knew about him without the shadows of any doubts. Garrett was a good person, straight through. I didn’t always trust my instincts, but this I knew.

“He’s certainly good enough to tutor your daughter for bargain-basement prices.”

“Don’t get nasty,” Carly snapped. “That’s different and you know it.”

“A few blood tests,” I said. “That’s all we really need.”

“Well, if that’s all you need . . .”

“You understand what I mean. Garrett doesn’t want to be a dad, but he wants to help me out. It’s exactly the scenario I was hoping for in a donor situation.” Carly examined my face, and I worked to hide the strange sense of unease I felt. Garrett was what I was looking for. If a fling came along with it—or even love—all the better for me, but it wasn’t necessary. If we were smart about it, I’d have good memories of my child’s father. I could look at the situation that way. I could do what needed to be done. I really could. “He’s working hard at improving his life. The job interview later this week is a start. I’m driving him.”

“It’s not going to be that way,” she said. “The way you want it.”

“So, it should be the way you want it, then?”

“I want you to be happy. A baby doesn’t have to be how you achieve that state. Moving could do it. Might be the best thing that ever happened to you,” she said, her voice growing more confident. “A few years in Ireland. Green grass; corner pubs; hot, widowed farmers.”

“I’ll be lost there,” I whispered.

“You’ll be distracted by activity. By newness. Maybe you’re just looking for adventure.”

“Time will pass too quickly. I’ll come back and be in the same place.”

Carly shook her head. “The experience will change you. It’ll put you in a better place. Well, different at least. What do you have to lose, really?”

I had something to lose. Something big, but just outside my ability to define it. It was there, though. Solid and waiting.

“Think about it for a few days,” she said, knowing full well I’d be up all night, unable to do much else. “Make one of your famous pro-con lists.” She placed Josie back at my side. “Remember, you already have people in the world who love you. Even if you never added anyone else to that group, if it remained the six of us who love you unconditionally, that’s more than a lot of people can say. It could be enough.”

I didn’t know how to explain myself without insulting her, but I’d known for a long while that enough only matters with tangible things. Love should grow and evolve. Enough meant a relationship had reached its end. I always loved my father, but the reasons I did changed as he did. It meant something, to fall in love with the same person, again and again, in different ways. It deepened everything. It took something ordinary and made it transcendent. It was the God I believed in.

Carly was still waiting for my response. “Maybe,” I said as Josie curled her small fingers around my thumb. “Maybe.”

CHAPTER 25

Rizer Technologies occupied a few acres off Highway 88, the science and technology corridor of northern Illinois, home to Fermilab and Motorola and companies like Rizer, established enough to build a campus but new enough to fill it only halfway. The parking lot was vast and only partially populated. I parked near a small, man-made lake surrounded by empty benches, though it was nearly noon. I supposed tech geeks ate their lunches in front of computer screens.

“There’s a train that stops in Aurora,” Garrett said, nerves constricting his words so much I worried his tie was too tight. “They’ve got a shuttle to pick us up. I won’t need a car.”

“Another plus,” I said brightly. I placed my hand on his knee and felt like his aged aunt sending him off to summer camp. “You’re going to do great. Even if you don’t remember everything we practiced, your resume speaks for itself.”

“I twitch a little when I get nervous. I haven’t told you that.”

“Everyone has some kind of tell that they’re uncomfortable.” I leaned forward and was hit with the pepperminty smell of Garrett’s mouthwash. His eyes flashed to mine, panicked and wide, and I kissed him swiftly. “Someone taught me something once, when I got nervous speaking in front of groups.”

He groaned. “Are you going to tell me to picture them naked?”

“No,” I said, laughing. “That never worked for me. Too distracting. Once, an instructor told me to clench my butt muscles while I spoke. It takes the tension off of everything else.”

That got a laugh, albeit a short, barky huff of breath. “Really? Well, that’s one I’ve never heard before.” He smiled weakly, like someone who’d just been sick. “Can we forget about all this butt clenching and run away together?”

“As tempting as that sounds, you need to do this, Garrett.” I smoothed down an errant lock of hair that had fallen from his ponytail. I was glad he hadn’t cut it for the interview. With his gray suit, shined shoes, and bright red tie, he looked like the front man for an alternative rock band or the college professor whose classes were always full to the limit. “You look great and you’re smart and they’d be lucky to have you. If for some reason they’re blind to how wonderful you are, then that’s their shortcoming.”

“I’m not sure everyone sees me the way you do.”

“Well, if this doesn’t work out, then it’s been good practice for when it does. In an hour or so, we’ll be on the highway and this whole thing will be behind us. We’ll get a slice of pizza and walk around for a while, and by tonight, you’ll forget why you were so worried in the first place.”

He nodded, but the fear still squatted behind his eyes, fat and immovable. I didn’t know how long I could keep building him up without getting out of the car and walking him into the building perched on my shoulders, so I picked up the leather bag I’d found in my father’s things and thrust it at his chest. “Go before you talk yourself out of reality,” I said. “You’re exactly what they’re looking for. They wouldn’t have called you if that wasn’t true. Remember that.”

He leaned across the gearshift and put his icy hand to my cheek. Blue eyes met hazel, and there was a moment between us. I felt a pull, like he needed more from me, and I didn’t know what it was, and suddenly I was frantic to give it to him, like a good luck charm he couldn’t do without. “You can ask,” I whispered. “Whatever it is.”

Garrett closed his eyes for a moment to survey the internal battle he was fighting. “I want to do this for you,” he finally said. “I really do.”

Before I could respond, before I could tell him to do it for himself, he’d exited the car and walked into the main door of Rizer Tech, his gray suit blending into the interior, making him invisible.

“He’s still inside.”

I’d read every article in my copy of
Vanity Fair
—twice—jotted a statistical outline for the breast-feeding survey I’d gathered for Darryl and my Community Health class, and listened to a podcast about some coal miners who were saved from an imploding mine in West Virginia. Still, Garrett hadn’t walked out of the glass double doors, so in desperation, I called Carly.

“That’s a good sign,” she said. “Maybe they gave him a second interview. Maybe he’s getting a tour of the facility.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“He’s hot,” Carly said flippantly. “Hot people always get hired.”

“What about homeless people? Do they?”

“How would they know?”

“He seems so innocent to me sometimes, like he’d offer his private self up on a platter.”

Carly was silent a moment, which she only did when I had a point. “You’re worried he forgot about you,” she said after a moment, her voice careful now. “That he doesn’t need you anymore.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I muttered, but Carly always knew how to articulate the fears I’d worked so hard to camouflage, the ones I’d managed to hide from myself.

My worry began the minute Garrett walked into the double glass doors of Rizer. It was like he’d been casually walking down the street, only to fall into an open manhole, swallowed up and sent to another world, one I couldn’t easily reach unless I jumped into the darkness after him. It was selfish and narcissistic, but fear of abandonment, always a shadowy presence in my life, had stepped forward since news of Donal’s possible deportment, and shown its ugly face.

So, almost just to prove Carly wrong, I waited until the perfectly round pond grew dark and cloudy with the fading light, and the dipping sun flashed orange light against the mirrored windows. Men dressed identically in khakis and dark polo shirts emerged and made beelines for the shiny BMWs and Acuras waiting patiently around me.

I had no more patience. I unfolded myself from my Honda, stretched my legs, and shouldered my purse. Inside the cool lobby, a security guard watched with interest as I approached. I explained who I was looking for, and together we read the sign-in log. Garrett’s name was printed in block letters. He’d signed in, but he’d never signed out.

“Can I look for him?” Something in my face made the security guard look away.

“Sign your name under his,” he said gruffly. “He was headed for the fourth floor. I’ll call it up.”

“Thanks.” I moved toward the elevator bank, head swiveling around, though I didn’t expect to see Garrett. He felt like a figment of my imagination already, something so vivid and realistic one moment and gone the next, too watery to embed in my memory.

The elevator door opened with an expensive sigh onto a sleek, modern vestibule. To the right, a glass door revealed the start of a row of cubicles. To the left, a hallway led to the restrooms. I knew where to go.

I didn’t bother to knock on the men’s room door. If I embarrassed myself by walking in unannounced, I didn’t care.

It was empty, or at least I thought so at first. I bent over, looking for shoes, but didn’t see any. I was just about to walk out when I heard the careful, ragged inhalation of someone who’d been crying.

“Garrett?”

He didn’t answer, but I did, by pushing open the stall doors one by one. The last I pushed open to find Garrett curled atop the toilet, pants up, hands gripping his shins, head buried between his knees. His entire body trembled, and he looked damp, like a wrung-out tissue.

“It’s okay,” I said softly.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, slowly lifting his head. Garrett’s eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was so pale the stubble forming on his chin looked like streaks of charcoal. “I’m so sorry.”

I took his clammy hand and pulled him up. He came easily, his tall body gangly and fluid, a puppet on a string. Head bowed, he closed his eyes, and I reached for him, drawing him close, letting his head fall to my shoulder, his body racked with something like grief. “I can’t do it,” he said, burrowing into my neck like a child. “I can’t. I just can’t. Can you forgive me? Can you?”

“Nothing to forgive. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I made soothing noises, not even words, trying to calm his pain, but he continued to shake against me, like something cold had burrowed deep within his bones. “You’re going to be okay,” I promised, a note of insistence in my voice. “You are.”

“No,” he said. “No.” Then the tears fell, and there is nothing worse than hearing someone lose himself so completely. “I can’t be the person you want me to be,” he said, voice strangled.

“I want you to be happy. That’s all. Nothing more.” I rubbed circles on his back, over and over, like I wanted to wipe away his pain. As I held him up, I felt worse and worse about what he was really saying to me—he’d disappointed me. But that was not the case at all.

I’d disappointed him. How could I ask him to be a father, when it was painfully obvious that he was a man most in need of a mother? I patted his back a few more times and tucked my fingers under his chin, lifting it. “Let’s get back to the car,” I said, cementing a smile in place. “Let’s get you home.”

Nursing 320 (Online): Community Health

Private Message—Leona A to Darryl K

Leona A:
I lost a friend today. I mean, he’s not dead or anything, but he’s gone. Something bad happened when we were out together, and when I dropped him off, he couldn’t say goodbye because it was like he already said it, and everything was over. We hadn’t even been friends long, but I’d convinced myself I was helping him. Now I’m wondering if I caused irreparable damage.

Darryl K:
I’m sorry, Leona.

Leona A:
The whole situation is so sad.

Darryl K:
Loss always is.

Leona A:
The thing is, I anticipated it. At least my subconscious did. I was trying to balance our impact on each other. We were supposed to change each other’s lives, but that’s too much pressure to put on something so new. Now, I’m worried for him.

Darryl K:
Do you think he’s worried for you?

Leona A:
I don’t know
.

Leona A:
Probably. Maybe. I don’t think it matters. In the contest for most fragile, he wins, hands down.

Darryl K:
Then maybe you need to let him get stronger on his own.

Leona A:
Isn’t that what we say when we don’t have what it takes to help someone? We put it all on their shoulders? It’s a cop-out. And I don’t deserve one.

Darryl K:
Being hard on yourself isn’t absolution, it’s procrastination. You need to move on and you don’t want to.

Leona A:
I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.

Darryl K:
No maybes. I am
.

Leona A:
That’s something I need to think about.

Leona A:
Oh, hey, did you get everything squared away with the single parents’ group?

Darryl K:
Yep. Get your questions ready. They’re meeting the Saturday before Thanksgiving at 6 p.m. Love Community Center, Loves Park.

Leona A:
Those names! Promise me this isn’t a joke.

Darryl K:
It’s a real place, that I can promise. I’m looking forward to everything about this. Mostly, though, I just want to sit across from you and have an honest, soul-baring conversation. It’s about time we laid eyes on each other, isn’t it?

Leona A:
What if you don’t like what you see? After today, I’m not sure I want to look in the mirror.

Darryl K:
You fear too much, Leona.

Leona A:
So I’ve been told, Darryl. So I’ve been told.