“Aww, come on Evie. Let me in,” Dad pleads.
“I don’t like you when you’re like this.”
“You used to like me a lot.” Dad reaches a hand toward Mom to stroke her cheek. It’s an old familiar gesture. “Remember that time—”
Mom knocks his hand away. “You make me sick.”
She tries to shut the door, but Dad’s faster and catches it before she can close it on him.
His face morphs into a stranger’s. “And you’re a shriveled-up old cunt. I said let me in.”
In front of me, Cora is a statue, holding on to me like I’m an anchor keeping her from floating away. I don’t want to leave her, but I can’t let this go on anymore.
I walk up behind Mom and grab the edge of the door. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
Dad finally sees me, squinting up at me as though he doesn’t recognize me. “Beau?”
“Mom doesn’t want you here like this.”
“Go home, Reid,” Mom pleads.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, Evelyn. Please. Let me in.”
She turns her face away. In profile, I catch the sheen of tears in her eyes as she slips past me, leaving me alone with Dad.
“Beau. Son.”
I stop him from trying to hug me with a hand on his shoulder. “Not like this. Not now,” I tell him. I don’t want to meet this man, this broken drunk. I want my father. I want the man who raised Cora and me. I want the man I tried to emulate.
The look in his eyes cuts me. His lower lip shakes as he drops his hands to his sides. The bony flesh of his shoulder is unfamiliar and a startling contrast to the place where I once laid my head as a kid. Up close, I can see the gray tinge to his skin and smell the stench of alcohol and cigarettes. Since when did he start smoking? I can’t reconcile this man with my father. He was so full of life and passion, and now…now he’s just not.
He presses his lips together. His expression turns mean. “Too good for me now that you’re famous?”
“Go home.”
“And what about you, Cora?” he shouts over my shoulder. “Too good for me too?”
“Leave her out of this,” I warn.
“Or what?” He pushes at me, trying to start a fight.
His shove is a trigger. Drawing in a ragged breath, I have to concentrate hard on not balling my hands into fists.
Cora slips under my arm and plants herself in front of me. “Don’t touch him.”
His focus shifts to her and his expression softens into an imitation of affection. “Corabelle, tell them it’s okay.” He even uses their nickname for her from when she was a little girl.
“You said you wouldn’t drink today.” Her reply is heavy with disappointment and sadness. “You promised.”
“Just a nip to take the edge off. Nothing a cup of coffee wouldn’t cure. What do you say?”
Behind me, Mom cries. Her muffled sobs fill the silence. Dad looks at the door as though he can see through it to where my mom stands with her face in her hands. I don’t know what to do. Like everybody else, I look to Cora for some kind of direction here. She knows them better than I do. What’s going to make this right? I know it’s not my fault what happened to my family. I know it and yet the guilt is there, laying low in my belly. I’d take off if it didn’t mean leaving Cora alone to deal with them.
Cora shakes her head. “No, Dad.”
I hook an arm around her and pull her behind me. Before Dad can react or say anything else, I slam the door and lock it. Cora gasps. Mom turns her tear-streaked face toward me. For a moment it looks like she’ll say something, then she ducks her head and goes down the hall. A few seconds later a door crashes shut. There’s nothing from the other side of the front door. No knocking, no more pleading. Just silence. Cora dives for me, wrapping her arms around me and burying her face in my shirt. It takes me some time to react, and then I’m hugging her back just as hard as she hugs me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, my voice choked and hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s my fault. I thought he’d be okay.” She pulls away and makes a helpless gesture toward where Mom disappeared. “And her too. I was hoping they’d be…better.”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Wait.” She gathers up the glasses of undrunk soda and heads for the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
“Mom’ll have a fit if I leave these out.”