*
Ted came over the following evening for an emergency family dinner, the three of them gathered around the kitchen table for the first time in seven years. It felt unexpectedly normal—comforting, even—to have him back in the house, everyone in their assigned seats, order temporarily restored in the universe.
At the same time, for all the familiarity of his presence, Ted seemed like a different person, not just older and heavier—Eve was pleased to note these changes, though both things could also be said about her—but calmer, too, no longer radiating the impatience that had always seemed like such an essential part of his personality. He even chewed more slowly than he used to.
“This is delicious.” He jabbed his fork at Eve’s sausage mac and cheese. “I don’t get to eat like this at home.”
“I forgot about the gluten,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Do I look like I mind?” Ted grinned at Brendan. “Your mom’s a great cook. Always was.”
As gratified as Eve was by the praise—he hadn’t always been so effusive—she was a little irritated by his air of relaxed good cheer, as if this were a pleasant social occasion rather than a family crisis. It was a part of their marriage she remembered all too well—that feeling of being out of sync with Ted’s moods, of always having to swim against his tide.
“How’s Jon-Jon?” Brendan asked.
“He’s okay.” Ted nodded thoughtfully, affirming his own statement. “Doing a lot of drawing at school. He’s very interested in circles. Other shapes, not so much.”
“He seemed pretty good,” Brendan said. “On Parents Weekend.”
“That was fun,” Ted agreed. “Just bad luck with that plane.”
Eve had heard about Jon-Jon’s tantrum on the BSU quad. She couldn’t imagine what that would feel like, to see your child in such pain and not know how to help him, and all those strangers watching.
“You know what I did last week?” Ted said. “I went to an indoor batting cage. Haven’t done that for years.”
“I used to love that,” Brendan said.
“Let’s do it,” Ted told him. “We can go to Five Guys afterward. Make a night of it.”
“Cool,” said Brendan, though Eve doubted it would ever happen. Ted was great with the plans, but less impressive with the follow-through.
It went on like that for a while, Ted and Brendan talking football and debating the finer points of The Walking Dead, a show they both loved that Eve refused to watch. She couldn’t help feeling a little jealous of their connection. The conversation rarely flowed like this when it was just her and Brendan at the table.
“Well,” she said, when everyone’s plate was clean. “Can we maybe talk about the elephant in the room?”
“Really?” Brendan muttered. “The elephant in the room?”
Ted accepted the parental baton with obvious reluctance.
“Tough semester, huh?”
Brendan nodded, unable to hold his father’s sympathetic gaze.
“You want to go back and finish up?” Ted posed the question in a soothing voice, as if he were addressing a child. “It’s only another month or so.”
Brendan shook his head.
“Any particular reason?” Ted asked.
Brendan closed his eyes and shrugged, a gesture more suited to an eighth grader than a college student.
“I hate it. I’m not learning anything.”
“Well, whose fault is that?” Eve snapped.
Ted silenced her with a cautionary hand. Somehow he always got to be the good cop.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
Brendan nodded. Ted sighed and looked at Eve.
“All right,” he said. “I guess that’s that.”
“That’s that?” Eve repeated the phrase in disbelief. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I don’t know what else—”
“So it’s just sixteen thousand dollars down the drain?”
“Eve,” he said. “Don’t make this about the money.”
“I’m sorry to be so mercenary. What do you think this is about?”
“Our son,” Ted told her. “It’s about what’s best for our son.”
Eve nodded, as if impressed by his superior wisdom.
“Wow,” she said, knowing even as she spoke that she wasn’t helping anyone. “Our son is lucky to have such a devoted father.”
Ted ignored the barb—it was as if she hadn’t even spoken—which was another thing he did that drove her crazy.
“Look,” he said, doing his best Mr. Reasonable. “It’s a big school. Maybe it’s just a bad fit.”
This was a valid point, Eve knew, but that didn’t make it any less irritating.
“Don’t blame me,” she said. “I wasn’t the one—”
“Nobody’s blaming you,” Ted told her. “Jesus. I’m just saying, people don’t always make the right choices in life. That doesn’t mean they have to be stuck with them.”
Eve tried to laugh but nothing came out.
“Do you even hear yourself?” she said, but the question went unanswered.
Ted had shifted his attention to Brendan, who had one hand clamped over his mouth, as if he were about to be sick.
“You okay?” Ted asked. “Are you choking?”
Brendan shook his head and burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed through his fingers. “I fucked up.”
Eve couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him cry. At least five years, she thought. Maybe longer. But the sound was instantly familiar, like an old song on the radio. Ted reached across the table and patted him on the arm.
“Take it easy,” he said.
Brendan struggled to catch his breath. “I’m sorry I . . . disappointed you.”
“Hey, hey.” Ted shook his head. “Don’t say that. Nobody’s disappointed.”
Speak for yourself, Eve thought. Ted was staring at her with raised eyebrows, requesting a little support.
“It’s okay,” she said after a moment, reaching out to pat Brendan’s other shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”
*
The next morning, Brendan filled out the paperwork to formally withdraw from BSU. The day after that they drove to campus and moved him out of his dorm room. Zack wasn’t around to help, didn’t even show up to say goodbye. It didn’t take long to load Brendan’s stuff into a big orange bin, take it down in the elevator, and cram it into the maw of the van. It barely fit, just like at the beginning of the semester—the oscillating fan, the lacrosse stick, the toiletries, the laundry bin, the rolled-up rug, the suitcase and the garbage bags full of clothes. It had all looked so hopeful back in September, an emblem of the future. But now it just looked shabby and depressing, like they’d found a bunch of crap on the sidewalk and decided to take it home.
Somebody Loves Me