“I thought you wanted to see Piper,” Gael argued.
“She won’t go till dark. There’s plenty of time. Come on.” His dad opened the driver’s side door and hopped in, without giving Gael much of a chance to protest any further.
His dad checked about five times to make sure no kids were behind him, as he always did, then he backed out of the driveway and pulled down the street, heading toward campus.
When they got closer to campus, traffic was bad, as Gael had expected. Many of the revelers were already out, and Franklin Street was partially blocked off.
“Where does your friend live?” he asked.
“Avery.”
His dad knew the campus well—even the dorm areas, as Gael had learned—and soon, they were in front of Cara’s dorm. His dad pulled to the side of the road and idled.
“Err, thanks for the ride.” Gael reached for the door.
“Wait,” his dad said.
Gael sighed loudly. “What?”
“What is up with us lately, Gael?” his dad asked. “I feel like you’re angry with me all the time, and I can’t help feeling like there’s something else going on?”
Gael’s shoulders slumped and he twisted the bag in his hands. “Do we have to talk about this right now, on Halloween?”
His dad turned to face him. “Yes, Gael, we do. You’ve been avoiding me like the plague since your birthday. I know that the split has been rough on you—it’s been rough on all of us—but I don’t think—”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s been really rough on you,” Gael interjected.
His dad scrunched up his eyebrows as a gaggle of Super Mario characters walked past their car. “What do you mean by that?”
Gael’s eyes caught the very dorm he’d seen his dad walk into just over a week ago. He was unable to hold it in any longer. “Look, I’m not an idiot, okay? You may have fooled Piper but you haven’t fooled me.”
“Gael,” his dad said seriously. “What in the world do you think you’re talking about?”
Gael looked away from the dorm and stared through the side window as a group of girls in fishnet tights walked by, along with someone carrying a huge cardboard box and a can of spray paint into the dorm. He rushed at the words, afraid he wouldn’t be able to get them out if he took his time. “I know you cheated on Mom, okay?” Gael felt hot tears on his cheeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at his dad, to see the confirmation he knew would be there.
(Only I could see the ache that Arthur Brennan felt, the pain that twisted at his insides as he fought it down, because he knew, in this moment, more than anything else, he needed to be there for his son. Romantic love is one thing, but the love between a parent and child—well, that is always worth fighting for.)
Gael felt a hand on his shoulder. “Gael,” his dad said.
Gael tried to shrug him off, but his dad wouldn’t move his hand. “Gael,” he repeated calmly.
“What?” Gael finally turned to face him, wiping the tears from beneath his eyes.
And the look on his dad’s face—well—it said everything.
“I would never cheat on your mother, Gael. I want you to know that.”
Gael sniffled. “You’re lying. I saw . . .”—he paused to catch his breath—“I saw everything.”
His dad folded his hands in his lap. “What do you think you saw, Gael? Tell me. I’m here.”
Gael took a deep breath. There was no turning back now. He pointed toward the dorm in question. “I saw you go with a girl into that dorm.”
His dad sighed.
Gael seized on the moment. “You had an affair, right?” he asked, hoping against hope that he was wrong. “With her?”
But his dad just shook his head. “Gael, that’s where the Young Socialists club meets. I’m the faculty advisor.”
“But you said you had office hours that day.” Gael wiped a bit of snot from beneath his nose. “Why did you say that?”
His dad shrugged. “That’s what I say for everything. It’s just simpler than going into all the details. Jesus, son, that girl is twenty. Do you really think that’s the kind of person I am?”
His dad pulled a pack of tissues from the console and handed them to Gael, who took them gratefully. “But what about the toothbrush? I saw one that wasn’t yours in your bathroom.”
His dad laughed a sad laugh. “You know what a freak I am about dental hygiene. I bought it at Student Stores because I’d had Indian food for lunch a couple of weeks ago.”
“But it was pink,” Gael argued.
“Yeah.” His dad shrugged. “And it was the cheapest one at Student Stores.”
Gael wiped at his eyes again. He felt ridiculous, like a child, and yet he felt the tiniest blossom of relief. “But the phone calls. Why are you always going into your room?”