She decided it was important to do this in person, not over the phone. It would be difficult but then she could really start to pick up the pieces and get back to her life. Right now she felt stuck in place, as if the cord between her and Red hadn’t truly been severed yet.
She would need to miss work on Monday, but she hadn’t ever called in sick or anything. Tomorrow she would call and tell Remi she’d had to go home in order to deal with a family issue, and that she’d be back on Tuesday.
A little later that morning she took the subway out to Penn Station, then the Amtrak train all the way to Syracuse, where her father was waiting in his blue pickup truck. Getting inside his truck, she smelled the familiar scents of grease and motor oil, rusty metal. As a mechanic, her dad’s hands were rough and usually had black stains around his fingernails.
He lit a cigarette and rolled down his window as they drove.
“I thought you quit,” she said, as he waved smoke toward the window.
“I did.”
“And then what happened?” she asked.
“Quit for almost eight months and then I watched the Mets blow an eight run lead in the ninth inning against the Orioles.” He made a face as if it still hurt him to this day. “After that I felt like I was owed a cigarette.”
“Oh, dad.” Nicole hated that he smoked. He’d been going though two or three packs a day for as long as she could remember, but just the last few years he’d really cut back and then even quit once or twice.
“It’s a horrible addiction.” He looked over and smiled at her. “Enough about me. How are you doing?”
She shrugged.
“Uh-oh,” was all he said. There was a long pause as they drove through familiar areas of town. The Costco that she’d been to a million times growing up. The restaurant that kept changing owners and names every couple of years, and nobody seemed to be able to stay in business there. Right now it was called Fiore’s.
“How’s mom?” Nicole asked, trying for casual.
Her dad took a drag on his cigarette as they slowed at the light. An old, old man walked a dog that looked as old as him, slowly across the street.
“Your mom,” her father said, “is antsy to hear news about the upcoming nuptials.”
His words hit her like a punch in the stomach. Like a wave hitting her, she was blasted by the impact of how everything had ended. It was really over between them. It didn’t seem possible—it had happened too fast.
“Well, we need to talk about that,” Nicole said, watching for his reaction.
He didn’t particularly have one. The cigarette dangled from his lip and smoke trailed out the window. “That old geezer needs someone to walk him and his dog,” he said, as the old man and his old pooch finally got to the other side of the road. By then the light had gone to green and back to red again.
A few minutes later, they arrived home.
“Your mother’s in a state,” he warned as they came in through the front door.
“Oh no. What kind of state?” Nicole asked him, but he didn’t bother answering.
Her mother’s voice called from what sounded like Nicole’s old bedroom down the hallway. “Hellooooo?”
“Hey mom,” Nicole called back.
They found her mother in Nicole’s old bedroom. There were things everywhere-clothes, magazines, books, notebooks, shoes, all of it in piles. Her mother was on her knees sorting things. She was wearing a red kerchief on her head, t-shirt and jeans. It was her typical “spring cleaning” outfit.
“Nicole, did you want these shoes?” her mother asked, holding up a pair of battered green and white Nikes.
“Those are from junior year of high school. I think I ran in them until the soles pretty much fell off.”
“So, do you?”
“No. Thanks.” She walked to her desk and looked at the various stickers and glittery, sparkly pens and pencils that were collected next to her old notebooks.
“I’ve been wanting to turn this room into an office,” her mother said. “And now that you’re an adult and getting married, I thought it was about time.”
Nicole tried to smile past the awkwardness she knew was coming. “That sounds like a fantastic idea.”
“What about these sweatpants?” her mother asked, holding the ugly blue pants high in the air for her to see.
“No. Definitely not.”
Her mother made a face. “So much good clothing going to waste. And at the time you probably cried to me and complained how cool it all was and how badly you needed it.”
“About that whole getting married thing,” Nicole started.
Her father looked at her, waiting for what came next.
Meanwhile her mother was busy sorting and folding. “We don’t even need to go through this again,” she said. “You know how we feel, but we support you completely. Now we just want to know what date and where.” She looked up at Nicole. “And if possible, I’d like to have some input on invitations and seating.”
Nicole turned her gaze to the floor. “I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.”
“Well, why not? Are you so sick of me that you won’t even let me make a suggestion or two?”