Alec marched out of the kitchen without looking back, even after he heard a chair crash against something. The multitude of household items held together with superglue or duct tape revealed the inventive ways his father had taken out his frustrations throughout the years. Since it had never escalated to physical abuse, Alec accepted it as his dad’s way of letting off steam. In the wake of Joe’s death, though, that temper had grown less predictable.
When Alec’s mom emerged from her room to investigate the racket, he grabbed her hand and tugged her from the house. “Come for a drive while he cools down.”
She followed him to his car in silence. He shooed Stitch out of the driveway and then drove his mother toward the new gelato shop by the park at the south end of the lake. The sun drew nearer to the horizon now, bathing the sky in striking shades of rose and lilac—a peaceful tableau at complete odds with the chaos on the ground.
Neither he nor his mom spoke for a while. He couldn’t have said much, anyway, thanks to his mental cartwheels. Who’d believe that any family lucky enough to call this picturesque town home could be living under such a cloud of despair? As he whizzed along the south shore, he wondered what ugly secrets other people in this neighborhood hid behind their quaint homes and gardens.
Absently, he also wondered if Joe could see him now. Had Joe had any regrets? Would he have been pissed at Alec for the article and the fight with their dad? Truth was, Alec wasn’t exactly proud of arguing with his father, but he wasn’t exactly sorry, either.
“I’m sorry.” His mother squeezed his hand once they took seats on the park bench overlooking the lake.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I should’ve been a better mother to my sons and not allowed the gap between you to fester.” She scraped the plastic spoon at her gelato without much interest in eating it.
“That had nothing to do with you.”
“I’m your mother, Alec. It’s my job to teach my children right from wrong. To knit a tight family.” Her forehead wrinkled with regret. “I failed.”
“You didn’t fail.” He looked across the lake. “You just drew the short end of the stick when it came to all the men in your life.”
She brushed his bangs from his forehead like she used to do when he was young. “Not with you, sweetheart.”
She only believed that because she didn’t know all his secrets. He slouched lower on the park bench and licked his cone. The explosion of flavor temporarily distracted him, although his pistachio gelato was better.
“Your father’s a hypocrite.” She set her melting dessert aside. “He always resented how his father belittled him, yet he’s done the exact same thing to you.”
“Grandpa wasn’t gruff.” In fact, Alec’s vague memories carried a definite hint of warmth. “He used to read to me and play Legos.”
“He was stoic. An engineer with a sharp head for math. But your father never worked to his potential in school, which bothered his dad to no end. Grandpa scorned your dad’s choices and career as much as your father does yours. Frank never forgave him for that.”
Alec now had a long-missing piece in the puzzle of his existence—a reason for his father’s dislike that went beyond Alec’s failings. Not only must Alec’s academic bent have reminded his dad of his own father, but Alec had also won Grandpa’s affection when his dad could not. That had to have stung, and might explain why Alec’s “ignorance” insult had been so potent.
“I could. Forgive Dad, I mean. Or, I would, anyway, if he’d meet me halfway. We’re already such a small family; we need to stick together.”
“Maybe, if Joe hadn’t died . . .” His mother squeezed his hand. “I can’t live with the gloom much longer. I ache, too, but there are still beautiful adventures ahead if we embrace them, like travel, and grandchildren.”
Her wish for a grandchild floated like a leaf in the breeze, landing silently between them. His mother would be a loving, patient grandmother. If he could hand her that gift now, he would. Instead, he sat there, holding her hand, hoping he could be enough for her.
Together they watched a few young kids and moms packing up their things after a day at the public beach.
“I remember bringing you two down here when you were little.” His mother’s eyes watered as she traveled back in time. “You’d work so diligently, building structures out of this muddy sand, and no matter how many times Joe messed them up when trying to help, you never once got mad. You were so patient with him.”
Alec’s last bite of gelato barely slid past the lump in his throat. His memories of those summer outings were mostly sad because of how things had changed over the years. None of his patience had amounted to much with Joe at the end of the day.