Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between

But once the kettle is on, Mr. Gallagher pulls out a chair, and there’s a long, uncomfortable silence. Clare smiles politely while Aidan sits there fidgeting with the fraying drawstrings of his hoodie.

“Must’ve been some party,” Mr. Gallagher says. “You two are out pretty late.”

There’s no accusation in his voice; in fact, he looks just as awkward as his son right now, and Clare can tell how hard he’s trying.

“Last night in town,” she says with a forced cheerfulness. “There was a lot to do. And a few last goodbyes.”

“Are you excited about Dartmouth?”

“I am,” she says, bobbing her head a little too hard.

“Do you know what you’ll be studying yet?”

“I have no idea, actually,” she says, glancing in Aidan’s direction with a little smile. Maybe it was his speech, or just the shock of the freezing-cold water, but somehow, she no longer feels quite so daunted by all that’s ahead. She might never be like Aidan: carefree and spontaneous and largely untroubled. But in her own way, she feels ready to dive in. And that’s enough for now.

“I’m still figuring that out,” she tells Mr. Gallagher, and this time she kind of likes the sound of it.

“Well, you’ve got time,” he says, his eyes shifting back to Aidan, who’s staring at his hot chocolate as if it might turn out to be a portal to some other room, some other place entirely. “If you’re at an Ivy, it almost doesn’t matter what you major in—you’ll have a lot of opportunities, no matter what.”

Clare lowers her eyes, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “Hey, did you know that UCLA has this really cool summer program in sports management—”

“Clare,” Aidan says in a low voice. “Don’t.”

“All I’m saying is that there are a lot of opportunities at UCLA, too—”

This time, Aidan sets his mug down hard on the table. “Clare.”

Nobody says anything for a moment, and then Mr. Gallagher leans back in his chair, the back legs creaking. “I’m sure that’s true,” he says, just as the kettle begins to whistle on the stove, and he hurries over before it can wake anyone else.

As he pours himself a cup of tea, Clare has an idea. “You know,” she says, avoiding Aidan’s eyes, “I just realized what time it is. I should probably call my parents and let them know I’ll be home pretty soon.”

Aidan gives her a withering look, but Clare is already pushing her chair back from the table, pointing helplessly at her phone, as if she has no choice in the matter.

She doesn’t go far, though. Just outside the kitchen, she hovers in the doorway, listening as Mr. Gallagher sits back down at the table. She waits there, because she wants to hear him apologize. She wants to hear him say he’s looking forward to driving Aidan to the airport in the morning. She wants to hear him admit how much he’ll miss his son.

But instead, they sit in silence for a full minute before he says, “So you must be sad to say goodbye to Clare.”

Aidan’s tone is curt. “Obviously.”

“You know, your mother and I were long-distance for a little while when I was in the navy.”

“I know.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Mr. Gallagher says, his voice sounding somehow faraway. “In fact, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But it was worth it. Usually the hardest things are the ones most—”

“I know, Dad.”

“Do you?”

Aidan heaves a mighty sigh. “I know you think I don’t know the meaning of hard work, but you’re wrong. The problem isn’t that I don’t try. It’s that we don’t always agree on what’s worth it. For me, Harvard wasn’t. So I didn’t try. Simple as that.”

“I wasn’t talking about Harvard,” Mr. Gallagher says, clearing his throat. “I was talking about you and Clare.”

“So, what?” Aidan says, a challenge in his voice. “You don’t think I can do that, either?”