揂nd then I couldn抰. I didn抰 just fall apart, Fee. I evaporated. I didn抰 even like it梐t all梐nymore. I hated all the faces and all the noise and there was no part of me that wanted that attention anymore.
揑 still love laughter. I still love comedy, but I didn抰 want to get up there and tell jokes about being a dad and how shitty it can be when I couldn抰 go on to elaborate about how god damn Earth-shattering it is when she smiles or learns something new, too. And it抯 not like I had any dating stories, certainly not anything sexy to talk about,?he chuckles darkly, tossing back the ice and chewing on it. 揝o now, I write. And I抦 ok with it. Sometimes I miss that adrenaline, but it抯 very, very rare, Fee. Doesn抰 change the fact that it抯 fucking embarrassing, nor do I totally understand why that changed so much for me. And I really don抰 love not understanding myself. I used to feel like the smartest fucker in the room. Hell, that was why I loved it, why I did it. Now, I know better.?
A tear slides down my cheek and I restrain myself from reaching out to him. 揟he mind is a fickle bitch. I don抰 know how I get places ninety-nine percent of the time when I抦 driving. My brain just manages to take over even when I抦 consciously in a completely different scenario. I constantly wonder 慼ow the hell did I get here.?I抦 sure it抯 the same, in a way.?
His eyes close in agony and he sighs through his nose. 揋od, please don抰 bring up your driving right now. It might be the one thing that terrifies me just as much.?He finishes the drink as he shakes his head.
揑抦 sorry again, My. I hope you抣l forgive me.?
揝top,?he holds up a palm. 揑t抯 already done.?He tries to smile.
It doesn抰 sit quietly in me, though, still has my insides twisting in guilt. 揇oesn抰 this make you miserable? Taking me to do all this all the time??
If I couldn抰 perform anymore?So much of my self-esteem is wrapped up in it now that I can抰 quite imagine the feeling.
He turns my way again, a drop of whiskey or melted ice glistening on his lower lip. 揝urprisingly, not at all.?He doesn抰 elaborate further. And I decide I don抰 want to push him any further.
揧ou wanna get drunk??is what I offer instead.
He shrugs, his shoulders giving a weary little jump, 揊uck it.?
15
NOW
揑f love is the treasure, laughter is the key.?- Yakov Smirnoff
MEYER
I remember my mom complaining every year without fail about the speed at which the holiday season flies by. Something about the short days being shorter than normal, the early dark, and the cold. I suppose the cold was more of a factor back in Ohio versus here in California, but the sentiment still tracks.
The two weeks after the apple picking date go by in a flash, mostly spent in more paperwork and scheduling arrangements. We抳e worked out the pre-tour-tour schedule, and I抳e worked out a vacation back to Ohio for Hazel to spend with my parents, sister, and nephews.
My parents, especially, are both thrilled and shocked. My mom started crying on the FaceTime call and I realized that perhaps I have been too stingy with my trust. They both learned fluent ASL, after all, and have asked to spend more time with her over the years, repeatedly.
I had a perfectly good upbringing, milquetoast by definition, but always felt loved and cared for. And they still loved and supported me even when they didn抰 quite understand my desire to pursue stand-up. My sister and I were never particularly close until I had Haze. Now we are as close as siblings who live states apart can be, I suppose.
Nevertheless, I抦 realizing that I抳e been pretty immovable when it抯 come to letting Hazel stay away for too long, even under their care. So, I抦 sure that this is going to be good for all of us.
We抳e also got the NFL game and seats all arranged for some photo opps, but, without planning it, have already earned some extra credit as far as all that goes. There are officially photos and articles circulating online, thanks to Apple-ocalypse (Fee抯 term, can抰 take credit for it), and even a few from our mall stroll. I抳e done an excellent job of not looking at the pictures or any captions, though?as has Fee?at least I assume, since she hasn抰 brought anything up.
She enters my mind and the barbell flies up, suddenly light even after numerous sets. I rack the thing and get up, sliding my headphones out and cutting the workout short.
I hit dial on FaceTime before I can calculate what I want to say or talk myself out of it, but it抯 ringing as I walk into the locker room.
Fee抯 face pops onto the screen, brightly smiling until she sees me and it twitches a little. 揙h hey. Meyer桰 was expecting Hazel.?
揧ou always expect Hazel when I call??
揥hen it抯 on FaceTime, yes?Oh, duh. I guess that makes sense.
揢gh ohmy桵eyer!! ACK! Where the hell are you?! God, my eyes!!?she wails, and I turn to see what looks like a frog in a human suit, standing on its hind legs. A naked old man with an indent where his ass should be梖uck梱ep, my eyes sadly went there. The man turns and Fee抯 screams echo through the room.
揗EYER WHY!!!!?
揝hit, I抦 sorry sir,?I say to the man, before I scoop my belongings out of the locker and bolt, he and his naked-old-man-clan shouting expletives behind me.
揥hy did you apologize to him?! Jesus Christ, apologize to me!?
I slide into my car and shut the door before I completely lose it. I don抰 know how long I laugh but by the end of it I抦 clutching my ribs. 揑抦 sorry Fee. I didn抰 even think,?I finally look down at her as I swipe a tear away.
She抯 smiling her biggest smile, chin cupped in her hands, clearly enjoying herself. 揑t抯 alright. You have a great laugh, you know that??
揝o I抳e been told.?Only by her. 揌ey, I wanted to ask you, do you want to get dinner with Hazel and I before the recital tonight??
揙f course. I came up with some stuff I wanna show you, too,?she inhales excitedly, her shoulders lifting. An excited Fee is an adorable Fee.
揝ounds good. Can抰 wait. How about we pick you up around four-thirty? Haze wants pizza.?Surprise, surprise.
揝ounds good. Can抰 wait,?she replies, and why does that make me grin like an idiot? Why am I loving this little streak we抳e got of repeating things back and forth? This little game of tit for tat.
Oh shit, I抦 still just smiling at the screen. I wipe the grin from my face. 搼Kay, then. See you later.?
揃ye.?She waves.
I put my phone away and catch my reflection in the rearview mirror. 揧ou need to get it together, old man. You are not sixteen. Be cool.?
But the dumb grin keeps trying to pull on my lips, and I laugh to myself countless times on the short drive home.
I look back at the mirror after I pull into the garage, and sigh. 揧ou抮e so fucked.?
揇ad, no one cares what you wear to my recital. No one will be looking at you,?Hazel signs as we walk up to Fee抯 door. She抯 in her full leotard getup, but not entirely ready. And I can抰 even respond because my arms are full as I trail behind her with various hair gels, sprays, and glitters. I抎 just asked her if my tie was okay梐pparently a moronic thing to even wonder, if the facial expressions indicate anything.
We already got into an argument before heading over because I do a fine job with her hair and the dance makeup stuff, but she was adamant that Farley would do it better.
So, we抮e here, imposing on her an hour earlier than I planned.
Tonight is about Hazel, though, and I hate that the lines continue to blur in my head. That even though it should be separate, should be just like any of the other recitals we抳e dressed up for and attended together, that tonight already feels charged.
It boggles my mind that you can know someone; every angle and curve of their face and figure, every quirk and dislike, and in an instant that comfortable familiarity can change to this adrenaline-infused, nervous excitement. That especially because I know her, and now know the taste of her mouth and the cadence of that sound that replays in my mind, that I only want to know more. To see what other sides and sounds and discoveries I can uncover, even more than I may have wanted to in the past.
I register an erratic motion in my peripheral and my vision refocuses on Hazel, waving irritably. 揇ad. Let抯 go.?
Fee opens the door, then, smiling radiantly. I trip a little, my toe catching on a crack in the concrete, if I had to guess.
Definitely not just because of how fucking beautiful she looks.
Because this is like every other recital, like the other five or ten or whatever number of times she抯 joined me, been the great fucking friend that she is to me and to my daughter, who loves her.
Tonight is about Hazel, but I抎 truly be as moronic as Haze thinks I am if I didn抰 admit to myself that it weighs more. That time doesn抰 once again make me zero in on this moment, realizing how thankful I am to fate or God or the Universe or Walt-fucking-Disney梬hoever抯 up there pulling the strings梩hat Fee stomped into my life, as inconvenient and powerful as the storm that same day.
FARLEY