“Not wholesome, you mean?”
“Not good,” he said. “With the exception of my mom sometimes.”
She tilted her head, waiting for him to elaborate.
“I . . .” He leaned back against the wall, aware that she was watching him alertly. He didn’t want to tell her the horrible truths about his family. But he’d already started to, and as always whenever he talked to Lily, he felt things pouring out of him that he didn’t mean to say.
“Nobody knows where my grandfather—my biological grandfather, I mean—Maynard really came from,” he said. “He was a drifter who got drafted to the Vietnam War, and while he was there, he met a man named Cassius, and they became friends. Cassius told Maynard all about his life growing up in a small town in North Carolina called Warren, and Cassius showed Maynard pictures of his fiancée, Earnestine. He told Maynard about his life working at the steel mill and how he’d been planning to save up enough to buy himself and Earnestine a house before he’d been drafted. As soon as he left Vietnam, he and Earnestine were going to be married. Maynard didn’t have many stories of his own. As a kid, he’d moved around from relative to relative. He wasn’t stable in the way that Cassius was. But despite their differences, they became good friends and learned to depend on each other. Or at least that’s what people say.”
He paused and glanced over at Lily. She was staring, listening in rapt attention.
“Cassius was a decent soldier, but Maynard wasn’t,” Nick continued. “I’m sure being in the Vietnam War was fucking terrifying, so I don’t blame him for wanting to escape. But he shot himself in the foot and was sent home. He had nowhere to go and nowhere to be, so he went to Warren, North Carolina, the same town Cassius had told him about. And when Maynard arrived, he found Earnestine.” Nick took a deep breath, then sighed. “The story goes, Maynard wormed his way into Earnestine’s life, seduced her and got her pregnant. Then he left, and no one ever saw him again.”
“Oh my God,” Lily said quietly.
“Cassius came home from the war to a fiancée who was pregnant by someone he’d come to think of as a best friend. Warren is a small town, smaller than small. Everybody knows everybody’s business. So the whole town knew about what happened. Cassius still married Earnestine because he was noble, at least he was back then. But when the baby—my dad—was born, Cassius ignored him and if he wasn’t ignoring him, he was berating him for one thing or another. Cassius worked at the steel mill until he died from a stroke when my dad was a freshman in high school. As far as I know, my grandmother, Earnestine, was a cold person. She never really got over the shame of what happened to her, especially in a small town like that, and I guess my dad reminded her of that shame. She died a couple years before I was born. I feel bad that she never really had a chance to live a happy life.”
Lily was still quiet, completely focused on Nick. He slumped down, his legs stretching across the edge of her bed.
“Anyway, my dad hated Warren. He hated that everyone knew the story about his parents. He spent his whole life wanting to get away, and he almost did leave on a basketball scholarship. But then he got hurt and ended up working at the same steel mill as his stepdad. He kept trying to find ways to get money and escape. That’s when he started gambling, which led to the drinking, and it just got worse over time, I guess. My mom didn’t really have family of her own, so when she met my dad in high school, she clung to him. They have a kind of connection that I could never really understand. He lies to her. He steals from her. He’s stolen from me. But she stays.”
Nick slumped down farther, a heavy cloud hovering above him as he thought about his parents. “My dad has this charm about him. It makes you feel like you want him to be your friend, even though you know it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. I worked at Jack in the Box in high school, and my dad would show up on payday and he would get all chummy with my boss and try to convince her to give him my check since I was a minor. Luckily my boss knew he was full of shit. There were times when he’d show up the UNC campus bookstore where I worked, and he’d ask me for money. His reasons were always different. Sometimes he said it was for my mom. Sometimes they needed rent money. He’d show up sounding so earnest, I didn’t know what to believe. And he’d beg me. I always ended up giving in, because how could I turn away my own dad? Meanwhile, he couldn’t be bothered to come to campus for my graduation. That’s partly why I traveled so much after college. I just wanted to get away. I needed to be in a place where my dad couldn’t randomly show up and find me. Where I wouldn’t be tempted to give in to him.”
“I’m so sorry, Nick,” Lily said softly. She was lying on her side now, looking up at him. “I had no idea.”
Nick nodded and stared down at his hands. “My babysitter is the one who told me the story about my grandparents. She took care of me when no one else would, but she wasn’t the kindest woman, and neither were her cats. They ruined my impression of cats for life.” He smiled at Lily, and she chuckled, rolling her eyes. “One of my earliest memories is of her telling me that I came from bad people who did bad things and I’d end up just like them. It was a fucked-up thing to say to a kid, and I became obsessed with knowing right from wrong. I didn’t want to be like them.”
“Like your dad and grandfather?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I feel like them sometimes, though. Or more so like my dad. Sometimes I fuck things up, even when I have the best intentions.” Like with you, he wanted to say. “He’s the reason I try not to drink.”
“You’re not like them,” she said with conviction.
Nick shook his head. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” she insisted.
Nick didn’t say anything. Lily’s words were kind, but he didn’t believe them.
“Where does your mom fit in all of this?”
“She fits wherever my dad is. That’s where she wants to be.” Nick sighed deeply. He felt exhausted, like a wrung-out washcloth. He slid down until he was lying on his side too, facing Lily. Her bed smelled like her hair. Vanilla.
“I’ve only ever told those things to Marcus,” he said, his voice low.
She gently placed her hand over his. Electricity shot through his veins. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Thank you for listening.”
They stared at each other, their hands still touching. He noted every detail of her face. The thickness of her eyebrows and the fullness of her lips. He felt rooted to this moment, to her.
“Can I say something weird?” she asked quietly.
He smirked. “Always.”
“You feel so familiar to me, like I knew you in a past life or something. I know it sounds silly. I don’t even know if I believe in stuff like that.”
“It doesn’t sound silly.” His voice grew serious.