—
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, when Nolan, Harper, and I arrive at my sister’s house, she is nowhere to be seen. Instead, my parents and Gabe are sitting awkwardly in the living room, a hodgepodge of Josie’s Anthropologie taste and Gabe’s more contemporary leanings. Mom and Dad are both perched on hideous matching zebra-print side chairs that Josie bought at a flea market, while Gabe is kicked back on his leather sofa with a bored look on his face. Obviously I know he and Josie are housemates, but for some reason, I didn’t expect to see him tonight, and his sullen presence irritates me more than usual. Or perhaps I’m just a little more irritated with Josie for pulling this stunt, including a non–family member, and not even bothering to show up on time. It suddenly crosses my mind that her announcement might actually involve Gabe—that maybe they’ve begun to date or are starting some crazy business venture. But I really think he has more sense than to try either, even though they clearly have some dysfunctional connection.
I say a terse hello, not even trying to hide my annoyance, while Nolan overcompensates with a more boisterous than usual greeting, hugging my mother, then my father, and saying all the right son-in-law things. They both adore him, although it’s hard to say how much of that is him and how much is his connection to Daniel. In Dad’s case, I really think it’s the latter, which makes Nolan a constant source of both comfort and sadness to him. Inevitably, when they get together, the conversation will turn to the past, and they will rehash the same old stories, Little League games, and inside jokes. And even if they start out with laughter, Dad always ends up crying while Nolan does the consoling, proving it’s way easier for a friend to move on than a parent.
“C’mere, Harper sweetie!” Dad says, still standing. His arms are outstretched.
I glance over my shoulder at Harper, who doesn’t move, just continues to pet Revis, Josie’s poorly trained rescue dog.
“Harper,” I say. “Grandpa’s talking to you.”
She looks up, with a blank expression, as Nolan propels her forward with an under-the-breath “go hug Grandpa.” She begrudgingly obeys, backing into my dad’s arms. It is visible evidence that the two aren’t at all close—which Nolan blames on me rather than the alcoholic who checked out of our family. Harper makes a quick escape, then heads directly for my mom’s lap.
“Where’s Josie, anyway?” I say, pacing in front of the fireplace as I inspect her lineup of photographs—various snapshots of her with Gabe and other friends, along with one of Harper. There are none of me, Daniel, or our parents.
“She’s just getting out of the shower,” Gabe says, his expression inscrutable.
“Harper, honey, go get Aunt Josie,” I say, still pacing.
As Harper hops off of Mom’s lap and scampers down the hall, I make a snide comment about Josie’s time being more valuable than anyone else’s. Nobody bothers to defend her because they can’t. Instead, I sit next to Gabe and ask him point-blank if he knows what’s up.
He gives me a noncommittal shrug. I can never tell whether he dislikes me or just has a prickly personality, but I can count on my hand the number of times he has seemed to be in a genuinely good mood in my presence.
“She hasn’t told you anything?” I ask him. “I find that hard to believe.”
Before he can respond, Harper bursts back into the room, leading Josie by the hand. Her hair is wrapped up in a towel, and she’s wearing sweats that could pass for pajamas. “Hey!” she says, all easy-breezy. “How is everyone?”
“Just fabulous!” I say as sarcastically as possible as Nolan sits on the other side of me and squeezes my knee, in an attempt to either reprimand or calm me.
Josie stares me down, crosses her arms, and says, “Okay. That was so fake.”
“Listen, Josie,” I say. “We’re all a little worried about why you called this meeting tonight.”
“It’s not a meeting. It’s dinner,” she says, tucking a strand of wet hair into her towel as she plops down onto the floor, center stage.
“But you said in your formal group email that you had something to tell us. Didn’t you?” I say.
Josie nods.
“Well?” I say. “What is it, then?”
“Jeez. Settle down, Mere,” Josie says, which pretty much always has the opposite effect on anyone who is even the tiniest bit agitated.
“Josie,” I say, my voice just short of shouting. “Nolan and I are worried. Mom’s worried. Dad’s worried.”
“I’m not really worried, actually,” Dad says. “Should I be?”
“Yes,” I snap. “You should be, Dad.” I want to add—and if you ever thought about anyone other than Daniel, you would be. But I don’t want to confuse the main issue.
“No, he shouldn’t be,” Josie says. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about here. It’s all good.”