I split a panicked glance between them. The last “meetings” Dad and I went to together were for Suicide Survivors Anonymous, which was a condition of my release. I’m not going back there. It’s too damn depressing—which, honestly, is counterproductive.
Dad shoves his drink away and glares at it. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing, Becky. As usual.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t spend every night sitting on that barstool?” she asks with a nod at the bar. “You know Maggie wouldn’t want this, Bruce.”
Dad slams his palms on the table and stands. “You don’t know the first fucking thing about what my wife would want!”
“I know it would break her heart to know how her death has torn you apart.” She glances at me. “Both of you.”
I push up from my seat, because I’m not having this conversation. “Come on, Dad. Let’s get you home.”
He lifts his glass and downs the last swallow of scotch, then trips as he turns for the door.
I catch him, keeping him balanced over his feet. “You can stay and have your burger,” I say to a moist-eyed Becky. “I’ll take him home.”
She nods. “I’ll have them wrap up dinner to go and bring it home in a bit.”
I nod and follow Dad, but just as he reaches the door, it swings open. He pulls up short and I walk right into the back of him, nearly knocking him over. I grab him before he falls and when I look past him, I see why his feet stalled.
“Marcus.” It slips out of my mouth before I realize I’ve said it.
He’s standing at the door, and he starts to smile when he sees me, but then his eyes flick to Dad and the smile falls off his face at whatever look it is he’s getting from him.
I see Dad full-on glaring. Becky comes up next to me, splitting a confused look between the three of us. “What’s going on?”
“Um…” I say, but then Dad grabs my arm and pushes past Marcus.
I glance back at him before the door shuts and he starts following behind us, but I give him a single shake of my head and he seems to get the message.
Dad pats his pockets as I guide him across the street to his car. “The bitch at the bar has my keys,” he grumbles.
I bring him around the passenger side of the car and lean him against it. “Wait right here,” I say. “I’ll get them.”
He tips his head back and stares into the canopy of stars. “Do you think she’s up there?”
I brace my hands against the trunk and close my eyes as a wave of anguish rocks my body. “No, Dad.”
I don’t believe in heaven. Or God. Or any of it. It’s just something that people made up a really long time ago so they didn’t hurt so much when someone they loved died. But I need to hurt, because the pain is all I have to remind me what I took from everyone around me. Dad. Becky. No one came through what I did whole.
He lowers his gaze and looks at me. “Sometimes I wonder what she would think if she were watching.”
“Don’t,” I say, pushing off the car. “She’s not watching. She’s gone.” I turn and head back to the bar for the keys, and when I push through the door, I find Becky and Marcus sitting at our table, each with a burger in front of them.
He stands when he sees me. “I was just…” His eyes flick to Becky, as if they’ve been caught doing something wrong and I know from his look she’s already told him too much. “I came in for takeout, but since your burgers were up already…” He trails off again with a shake of his head.
I send Becky a pleading look.
“Sit,” she says to me, standing from her seat. “I’ll take your father home.”
I shake my head. “I was just getting his keys.”
She starts toward the bar as the waitress comes out of the kitchen with two paper bags. “I’ve got it.”
When I glance back at Marcus, he looks unsure. “If you just want to grab yours to go, or whatever,” he says with a gesture at the plate where Becky was sitting, “they’ll wrap it up for you.”
I sink into Becky’s seat as she passes toward the door with Dad’s keys and the burger bags. She gives me a nod and I watch her go, then stare at the untouched burger on the plate in front of me.
“You okay?” Marcus asks, his voice barely audible over the music and chatter.
“Yeah. That was just…” I trail off with a shake of my head when I feel heat creep up my neck. “I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed. Everyone here, including you, has already see worse. But it is embarrassing. We’ve lived here two months and my dad’s already the town drunk.”
“This town has a few,” he says. “Including mine.”
“What did she tell you?” I ask the burger.
“Nothing I hadn’t already guessed at.” His voice is low, soothing, and just the sound of it settles the chaos in my head.
I lift my eyes to his. “Which is?”
“Your mother’s dead, your father’s drunk, and you’re basically on your own.” There’s no judgment in his statement or his eyes, despite having just witnessed Dysfunctional Family Theater, starring me. But it’s not like I’ve ever been invisible to Marcus. I think he’s seen me from the very start.