He’d disappeared somewhere between the sixth and seventh grade—in between one of my birthday parties and the start of puberty. There was no formal notice, no formal talk about why he was leaving; my mom and I woke up one morning—refreshed after our annual family vacation, and realized all of his stuff was gone.
The next time we saw him, he was on TV—heading some huge celebrity divorce case. The next time we saw him after that was in the newspapers—he’d just won one of the biggest class action lawsuits in the country. And the last time we saw him was at his funeral; his new, much younger fiancée had been drinking and lost control at the wheel.
To his credit, he gave my mother everything she thought she wanted in the divorce—alimony, child support, timeshares, and two vacation houses they’d bought together. He sent birthday and holiday cards like clockwork and every now and then he sent us flight tickets to visit him; flight tickets that never got redeemed.
For me, he called once a week—going down his normal list of questions. “How are you this week, son?” “How are your grades?” “Your mother says you joined a summer league basketball team. How’s that?” “How is Arizona? Is she still your best friend?”
One day, circa seventh grade and tired of his bullshit, I cut off his checklist of questions and asked. “Why did you leave us?”
“What’s that, son?”
“I said…” My voice didn’t waver. “Why did you leave us?”
There was no immediate answer—only silence. After several minutes, I considered hanging up, but then he began to speak.
“I wasn’t happy. We were only getting along for your sake…We were supposed to stay together until you reached high school, but I honestly…I couldn’t do it, and I told her that, too…I should have been clearer and said that I just didn’t feel the same as I used to, and I guess that’s why we should’ve stayed ‘just friends.’”
“That is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard…”
“Watch your mouth.” He snapped, his tone now glacial. “You asked me to be honest, so I’m being fucking honest…” He sighed and paused once more. “I never got to meet anyone new or find who I was outside of your mother. That’s the problem. We settled for each other and we, in turn, stifled one another.”
“You’re blaming her for you leaving?”
“I’m blaming us both,” he said. “No way can a man and a woman stay in love from childhood to forties and beyond. It’s unrealistic.”
“So, cheating on her with your secretary was the solution?”
Silence.
“How’s school?” He changed the subject completely. “Arizona? Does she still have those braces?” And that was the last effort I made at attempting to salvage our relationship. Which was why I was quite surprised to learn what he’d left me in his will. In addition to a college fund, a trust fund, and a few of his investment portfolios, he’d left me a condo on the edge of the beach.
I vowed to never use it when it was awarded to me, and even contacted a realtor to put it up for sale. But, once I found out that the house was near South Beach University, I changed my mind and moved into it at the end of my sophomore year.
It was my much needed refuge from the hectic campus life and the beach fire parties, which was why I’d never invited more than three people over at a time. It was why I dreaded the idea of ever throwing a party here, but Josh was slowly wearing me down on the idea for this summer. He’d even begged me to have a business meeting with him about it at the end of my private graduation get-together the other day.
Sighing, I folded my father’s obituary and returned it to the back of my desk drawer.
I stepped outside my room and headed into the kitchen where Josh and five of his fraternity brothers were sitting at the bar.
“You all wore suits?” I looked at all of their complementing grey and black suits.
“This is a business meeting, is it not?” Josh took out a folder.
“You’re my roommate.”
“And for that, I am forever grateful,” he said. “And I think, to the best of my knowledge, we’ve gotten along pretty well for the most part. Right? I’ve never been late with the rent.”
“There is no rent.”
“But if there was, I would’ve never been late with it.”
I rolled my eyes and took out a beer. This was going to be a long one.
“I also think,” he said, continuing, “that I’ve taken great care of the backyard without you even asking. I’ve also made sure that the fridge stays stocked with water and protein shakes whenever we run out, and I make sure my company never overstays their welcome. So, with all of that on the table, I need you to give me three good reasons why you won’t let us throw the party here.”
“I can give you ten.”
“I’m listening.”
“One, we have neighbors on both sides, neighbors that don’t really appreciate loud parties and have previously threatened to call the cops.”
“We’ve already talked to them.” He smiled. “They’ll be away the weekend that we throw the party,”