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Show All the Variables & Other Love Stories 23 Dad had stocked ice-chests of cold beer throughout the kitchen. The plan had been for our guests to leave around this time and come back to our house for snacks and beer and the unofficial family reunion. A handful of people showed up, but no one was really in the spirit. Nevertheless, they felt obligated to eat pepperoni and crackers and make awkward small-talk for an hour or so before departing. Dad cleaned out his ice chests and stacked untouched six-packs in the garage while Mom cleared the table of finger foods. Michaela, Mom, and I sat in the living room and didn't say much of anything until ten o'clock when Michaela went home and Mom stopped crying to declare she was thoroughly exhausted and couldn't stay up one more minute. I found Dad sitting on the front porch with a six-pack of beer. The light above the door was on, and I thought this was as it should be. Dad and I would keep the home fire burning. I sat down beside him and he offered me a can. We sipped our beers and I said, "Do you think Brandon's okay?" He shrugged, "I'm sure he's fine." I thought about what it must be like to have Dad's life. I tried to imagine being married to Mom, having a job I hated, kids like me and Brandon. AH at once I was Dad, and he was me. My wife was Carol Brackett, whom I had grown to love but was never in love with. My oldest boy, cruelly fated to follow me, had just left his pregnant fiancee standing at the altar, and I was sick with worry for him. My younger son was on the verge of graduating high school without a clue to bet on, and I was scared the coming world would leave him broken so quick he might not survive. I knew I had fought the good fight and come up short, that I had failed these boys. I was sick with worry, scared in my heart and tired all over, because I couldn't see a future for either of them. I knew it was |
