“I’m fine,” I reassure him, sipping from my water before taking another bite. Lourdes already placated my fears, and I don’t want to think more about it. See the flaws in her logic. “Probably need to eat more,” I add, and smile unconvincingly, judging by the looks on their faces.
“Lay off the drugs, sister,” Daniel mumbles, drinking from his coffee. I laugh, but Dad has turned his attention to my brother. He folds his hands on the table with a show so parental it seems fake.
“Now let’s talk about you,” he says in his new-and-improved Dad voice. “Drinking? Blacking out? Daniel, this isn’t acceptable behavior.”
My brother straightens in his chair, knocked sideways by the fact that our father would criticize him now. He clenches his jaw, and leans his elbow on the table. “Dad, we’ve been past acceptable behavior for a long time. Starting with you. Don’t think you’re fooling either of us with this father-of-the-year bullshit.”
“Daniel,” I whisper, stunned that he would confront our father so plainly. Normally, he’d storm off and then vent to me later. But right now his cheeks have gone red, his fist curled up. I repeat his name and he looks over at me. The fight evaporates from his expression.
The three of us stay silent for a long moment, digesting the new dynamics. I watch my father, waiting to see his reaction. See if he really is the doting man who showed up for lunch today. My father picks up his water and takes a calm sip, then sets his glass down with a clank.
“You’re right,” he says calmly. Daniel and I exchange a look, unsure if he’s just being passive-aggressive. “I’ve changed, Daniel,” he says. “I’m finally seeing clearly again. And I’ll do anything to keep this family together. Forever.”
Okay, then. My dad’s eyes are sincere, which only succeeds in making him sound and look like a deranged cult leader. Now that our conversation has taken a turn into the truly bizarre, I stand up from my seat at the table.
“Thanks for lunch, Dad,” I say, “but I have to go. I’m meeting up with my friends at the pool. Find you later?” Daniel pushes his cup aside, standing as if I’ve made an excuse for him to leave too. Smooth.
“I’m happy to hear you’re making friends,” my father says. I wait for a dig at my past, the mistakes I’ve made since my mother died, but no insults follow. He might actually mean it. “Let’s meet for a movie later,” he suggests to me and Daniel. “Around six?”
“Sure,” I say. It’s been years since I’ve been to a movie with my father. A wave of nostalgia sweeps over me, and I smile at my brother. Daniel rolls his eyes, still skeptical of my father’s sincerity. He hums something noncommittal, and then he takes my arm and tugs me toward the exit. Since arriving at the Ruby, Daniel’s been standing up more to our father. There’s a new resentment there, anger.
“You didn’t have to be so mean,” I say when we get out into the crowded lobby. The light filtering in through the windows is blinding at first, setting the room in a haze. Little specks of dust float around us. When my eyes adjust, the people are gone, leaving just me and Daniel in the large room. Confused, I glance around before my brother is talking again.
“Does he think he can erase what he’s done?” my brother asks. “That we’ll just forget after a movie? No. How stupid does he think we are?”
“He doesn’t think we’re stupid,” I tell him. “He’s probably having second thoughts about Grandma Nell’s. I mean, wouldn’t you after spending more time with us? We’re kind of awesome.” I smile, trying to lighten Daniel’s mood. I know it’s naive, but part of me wants to believe that my father really can change.
My brother scratches his head, right where I thought I saw the crack, and I look away. For all its grandeur, the hotel lobby has taken on an eerie quality. Where did everybody go?
“Look,” Daniel says apologetically. “I’m not ready to forgive him, okay? But you and me”—he waggles his finger between us—“we’re okay. Always.”
“Forever,” I say in a spooky voice, imitating our dad’s strange statement earlier. Daniel laughs, pushing my shoulder like he’s mad at me for cheering him up.
“It’s fucking Poltergeist up in here,” he says with a grin. He exhales heavily and glances back at the elevator. “I’m going to grab a shower,” he says. “And I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to count me out on that movie date. I’m not in the mood.”
“I get it,” I say. “Although . . .” This is probably not the time, but I can’t stop myself. “Are you going out with Catherine?”
He nods. “Yeah. Why?”