She smiled. “So everyone’s like a book, huh?”
“Yeah, I used to think that. But it’s crap. People aren’t like books—?they’re not like books at all. Books make sense. People don’t. You know, like life. All these things happen, and they’re not connected. I mean, they are and they’re not, and it’s not as if my life or your life—?it’s not as if our lives have this plot, you know? It’s not like that. I mean, like some people say, we’re born, we live, and then we die. Yeah, well, so fucking what? That doesn’t say anything, does it?”
Sam was looking at me.
“You’re studying me, Sammy. It’s a little creepy.”
“You’re funny,” she said. “This is just how I imagined you’d be when you were drunk.”
“That predictable, huh?” I downed my wine.
“Well, you’re predictable in some ways. But lately not as predictable as you used to be. I don’t understand that fist thing you have going, Sally. I don’t know where it comes from. You’re not crazy or wild. But sometimes you are crazy and wild. That’s the greatest thing about you, Sally. You’re you. It’s like sometimes you’re the same old Sally, and then you get into these pensive moods and you don’t want to talk, and then all of a sudden you’re mad at the world. I get that. I’m mad at the world a lot. But you weren’t like that. And now, I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either, Sam. I’m just confused. And everything seems complicated. Mima’s sick. And I have this reminder of my mom in a letter that I don’t want to read, and it haunts me and it confuses me because I want everything to be the way it was, and it can’t be that way anymore, and your mom is dead and that’s so strange, and I don’t know how you deal with it, and it’s weird that we both have dead mothers, only you remember yours and I don’t remember mine, and I don’t know what the hell I’m trying to say.”
“So we’re both mad at the world. That’s okay.”
“Is it, Sam?”
“That’s the way it is right now.”
“I don’t like it.”
“It’s okay, Sally.”
“I don’t feel okay. I feel like punching out the world.”
“I do too. Only you’re being very literal about that, and maybe that’s not so okay.”
“Where does it come from?”
“You’re gonna have to figure that out.”
“How?”
“You’ll find a way.”
“Will I?”
“Yes.”
“You’re so sure.”
“I know you. You’ll find a way.”
“And you still love me, even though I’m not that good boy you thought I was? The good boy you wanted me to be?”
“I never wanted you to be anything, Sally. I’ve always just wanted you to be you.”
“But I don’t know who me is.”
“Yes, you do. Deep down you do. Reach out and find him, Sally.”
“It hurts.”
“So what?”
“I’m not brave like you, Sammy.”
“Maybe you’re braver than you think.”
“Maybe.” I looked at the bottle of wine. “I’m drunk. And I’m saying stupid things.” Then I smiled at Sam. “We might as well polish it off.” I don’t know, I guess I felt like talking—?so that’s what I did. I just kept on talking. “Sammy, remember when Marcos came over that day? I told you I saw a look on my father’s face. I didn’t understand that look because I’d never seen it. Sam, it was love. You know, a different kind of love. I mean, I can see love on my dad’s face when he looks at me. But this was different. I think that’s exactly what I saw. Dad loves him.”
“Does that scare you?”
“A little bit. That’s a lie. It scares me a lot. I mean, I’ve never really had to share him.”
“That’s not true. You’ve always shared him with me. And you’ve shared him with Mima and with all your uncles and aunts.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I just want my dad to be happy. I do. And if Marcos makes him happy, I’m cool with that. No, no, maybe I’m not so cool with it. I’m not.”
“You jealous?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I am. And then, I mean, the guy hurt my dad. And if he ever hurt him again, I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t know, Sam.”
“I get that. I couldn’t stand any of my mother’s boyfriends.”
“Not any of them?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew they were all going to hurt her. And they did. And Marcos better not hurt your dad, because I’m going to go after him. And I got those fists of yours on my side.”
“So we’re a team.”
“Yeah, we are.”
“Me and you against the world?”
“Not exactly. We have your dad. And really, he’s my dad too.”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“So?”
Then we got to laughing and we just kept drinking wine and talking and then the room started spinning and there was this salty thing going on in my mouth and the next thing I knew, I had my head in the toilet, spilling my guts out, and Sam was standing over me and handing me a warm washcloth. “You’ll be okay,” she said. “You’re not an alcohol virgin anymore.”
I felt terrible, and the room was still spinning and all I could do was moan.
And then I was throwing up again.
Dad. At the Breakfast Table. Me and Sam.
“I’M WONDERING WHICH one of you two geniuses thought this was a good idea.”
Sam raised her hand, as if she were in a classroom. “My idea, Mr. V.”
“Wrong,” I said. “I thought, you know, it would be nice to have a glass of wine.”
“A glass would have been fine with me. But I’m looking at two dead soldiers on this kitchen table.”
“I guess we just got carried away.”
“Care to offer an explanation?”
“Well, we stayed home. We didn’t drink and drive.”
“You don’t get extra credit for that. And that doesn’t qualify as an explanation.”
“You’re talking like a dad.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.” My father wasn’t taking his eyes off me. “I’m waiting.”
“I don’t have an explanation, Dad. We just, you know, we got a little crazy. Not everything has an explanation. Not everything I do makes sense. It was just one of those things.”
“Just one of those things, huh?”
“What do you want me say, Dad? I feel like crap. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
“Who said anything about punishment? All I’m asking for is a simple explanation.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t have one.”
Dad looked at Sam, who was hanging her head as low as I was hanging mine. “Sam?”
“I guess I don’t have an explanation either. Mr. V—?I—?well, no, I don’t have an explanation.”
“I’m going to ask you two a question, and I want you to answer honestly.”
Sam and I nodded. We just kept nodding very slowly. God, I thought my head was going to bust open.
“Does this have anything to do with Marcos?”
“How do you mean, Dad?”