One Last Thing Before I Go (18 page)

He doesn’t open his eyes again until the guitar solo, and when he does, he discovers he is surrounded by bodies, dancing and clapping all around him on the dance floor. He looks out to see Casey, still standing there in between the now-empty tables, smiling at him through her tears, as she moves lightly to the beat. And then the guitar break is over and he’s singing again. The crowd gathers around him, clapping to the beat. They are having a moment, all of them, the kind you can’t plan or orchestrate: him, Casey, and this crowd, all connected by the right song at the right time. Every cell in him remembers this feeling. By the time he hits the repeating refrain, he is spinning in circles, disappearing into the music in a way he hasn’t for so long.

And someday soon, I’ll rest in peace. But till that day does come, I’ll rest in pieces.

And a hundred voices sing it along with him, lifting him up, and he hears Danny’s voice harmonizing, joining his own, just like old times, and Casey, mascara running in streaks down her face, is singing along like she used to when she was a little girl and he would play the song in the car for her, and the entire ballroom is throbbing. And it would be nice to think that the music has come back for him, to reclaim him, and that everything will be different. But he knows the music will end, it always does, and cold, songless reality will reassert itself. Right now, though, as the buzzing in his ears reaches a fever pitch, he feels more love than he knows what to do with, and there’s nothing to do but close his eyes and let it wash over him for as long as the music will play.

C
HAPTER 45

“T
hat was really something, Dad.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just . . . you called me Dad.”

“What should I call you?”

“Dad’s good.”

“Well then.”

“It’s just you don’t always.”

“Really? Huh. I never noticed.”

“Well, I like it.”

“I can’t believe you stole the show at a bat mitzvah party!”

“Yeah, well—”

“That you crashed!”

“I didn’t steal the show. I was just a momentary glitch.”

“Are you kidding me? The way they all took pictures with you afterwards? You were the highlight of the party!”

“And I’m the only thing they didn’t pay for.”

“You looked good out there. I never really saw you perform before.”

“I was never out front like that. I was always tucked safely behind my kit.”

“Well, it suited you. You should think about a comeback.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a young man’s game.”

“You’re not that old.”

“I’m not that young.”

“I heard all of those things you said to me—well, to everyone else, too—but anyway. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you really proud of me?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the greatest proof that my life hasn’t been a complete waste of oxygen.”

“So, if your life isn’t a waste, why not have that operation?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m calling bullshit. You either want to live or you want to die.”

“I want to be a better man.”

“Well, you’re not going to get any better once you’re dead.”

“You make a good point.”

“I’m going to make a better one now.”

“OK.”

“You left us, Dad. Mom and me. I know you only meant to divorce Mom, but you divorced me, too.”

“I know.”

“And I forgave you then. Just like I’m forgiving you now. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Lack of options. Mom found herself another husband. I don’t get another father. And I need one. I mean, look at me.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“But if you leave me again, I will not forgive you.”

“I understand.”

“I will hate you. I will get a big ‘Fuck-you-Daddy’ tattoo across my chest, and I will sleep with an army of losers to get back at you.”

“OK. I get it.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“I’ll consider it very seriously.”

“Jesus, Dad.”

“So, Mom and Rich?”

“Full-speed ahead. The nuptials are on.”

“That’s good.”

“Despite your best efforts.”

“And that’s my cue to change the subject. Can we stop talking about me for a moment?”

“Sure.”

“What are you going to do about your situation?”

“I’m glad you asked, because I’ve actually made a decision.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve decided I’m going to do whatever you tell me to do.”

“That’s your decision?”

“It is.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You know what? I’ve been functioning without you for eight years now. Eight years that you should have been there, taking the pressure off of me, guiding me, being there for me. The way I see it, you owe me eight years’ worth of parenting. So I’m just asking for it all at once.”

“That’s a good argument, but your logic is flawed.”

“How so?”

“You’re asking for guidance from someone who, when faced with major decisions, has consistently, almost prodigiously made the wrong choice.”

“Well, then it’s perfect, because you can’t lose here. I know I’m going to regret it either way.”

“I need you to know that no matter what you decide, I’m going to support it.”

“That’s big talk from someone who might be dead tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t make this decision for you. Nobody can.”

“Mom can.”

“So ask your mom.”

“Then what good are you?”

“My point exactly.”

CHAPT
ER 46

T
his is Tuesday and, it being Tuesday, they are on their way to jerk off. When Silver considers everything that has happened since his last deposit, he is staggered by it. Seven days have passed, but the world has been turned upside down and inside out. Case in point, the backseat of Jack’s car now carries an additional passenger. Casey sits on one side, looking pensively out the window, her hair whipping around in the breeze. Silver has adjusted the small mirror on his sun visor in order to watch her. Ever since the bat mitzvah she has been steadfastly, almost insistently upbeat, and it saddens him to watch her straining to keep up the façade. Denise’s wedding will be this Saturday, and Casey is clearly worried about its effect on him. He wonders about that himself, but for the most part, he thinks he’s fine with it—sad, certainly, but there’s something about the finality of it that gives him a sense of peace. Maybe it will finally bring him the closure he needs. Or maybe he’ll get himself piss drunk and cry himself to sleep that night. Either way, he’s both relieved and insulted to not be invited. In the meantime, he’s been trying to figure out exactly what it is Casey needs him to say about her pregnancy, so that he can say it and help her figure things out.

Jack pulls into the Blecher-Royal parking lot. Casey looks around, confused. “This isn’t the mall.”

“We just have to run a quick errand first.”

“What kind of errand?”

“The kind we would prefer to be discreet about,” Jack says at exactly the same time that Silver says, “We have to deposit our sperm.”

“What?!”

“Jesus Christ, Silver! Is there anything you can keep quiet about these days?”

“Apparently not.”

“Wait, Dad. You’re serious?”

“It’s for medical science,” Silver says.

Casey shakes her head. “That’s not creepy at all.”

“Well, when he says it like that,” Jack says defensively.

“Did you really bring me along to wait in the car while my father jerks off?”

Jack flashes Silver an annoyed look as he opens the car door. “I liked you a lot better when you knew how to lie.”

“I’m probably disqualified anyway,” Silver says. “You have to report any adverse changes in your health.”

“Holy shit!” Jack says, stopping with one leg out of the car. “Do you think this stuff had anything to do with your heart thing?”

“I doubt it.”

Jack thinks about it for a few seconds, then drops back down into his seat and starts the car. “Fuck that.”

“So much for medical science,” Casey says from the backseat, and her laugh, gleeful, like a child’s, makes him smile and breaks his heart at the same time.

CHAPTER
47

S
ilver listens as Lily sings to the kids
.
“Oh,
Mr. Sun,” “Michael Finnegan,” “Puff the Magic Dragon.” She’s wearing her hair down today, with no visible makeup, and she looks tired, he thinks.

“So, who is she?” Casey says, coming up behind him.

“Just a girl.” He had left her browsing over in the Fiction and Literature section, but she has tracked him down. It’s raining outside, a powerful summer rain that batters the bookstore window like applause. Hard rains like this make him miss his childhood, the smell of rubber slickers, the scrape of galoshes on pavement. It’s one in the afternoon but it looks like night outside. He is suddenly feeling depressed and irritable.

“She’s cute.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s why you come in here,” Casey says, getting it.

“Yeah.”

“So what’s your status?”

He shushes her, though she is speaking pretty softly. “No status,” he says.

Casey looks him over. “How long have you been coming here?”

“I don’t know.” He wishes he hadn’t brought her in here. He feels exposed.

“A few weeks?” Casey says. “A month?”

He looks at her.

“Oh shit,” she says.

“You swear a lot.”

“Broken home.”

“Fuck off.”

“Touché.”

“Come on,” he grumbles. “Let’s go.”

“Why don’t you ask her out?” Casey says, standing her ground.

“I’ve been waiting for the right time.”

“Come on, Dad. When’s the last time you asked someone out?”

He rubs the back of his head, still damp from the rain, while he considers. It has been so long since he was in any kind of relationship. He doesn’t know how to explain it, this paralysis that takes hold whenever he sees a woman he’d like to ask out. It infuriates him when he considers the years of solitude he has spent because of some latent shyness or fear of rejection he can’t seem to overcome when the moment demands it.

“It’s been a while,” he says. Years, he thinks, although he isn’t really sure. Chronology has always been somewhat elusive to him.

“She’s a musician, you’re a musician,” she says. “It’s cake. I mean, come on, Dad, you were a rock star!”

“I was the drummer.”

Casey shakes her head. “How do you not see the tragic irony here?”

He shrugs. He gave up on irony years ago. It was that or death by prescription pills.

“You were enough of a rock star to completely screw up your life,” she says. “And now, when you need to be one, when it will actually help you, suddenly you were just the drummer?”

He looks at his daughter, so pretty and wise beyond her years, and he wants to weep from the loss. Casey seems to sense his mood, and she steps forward and kisses his cheek. He cannot remember the last time she kissed him, and he is dangerously close to dissolving. She places one hand on each of his shoulders and looks him in the eye.

“Dad.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a good-looking guy. You’ve got that kind of cuddly bad-boy thing going on, like you’re dangerous, but only a little bit, you know? You have kind eyes and a killer smile, and life has beaten you up just enough to make women want to save you. Hell, even Mom slept with you again, and she hates you.” He gives her a look. “Sorry. You know what I mean. The point is, I always assumed you were swimming in women.”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

She nods, understanding, from that one word, the immense loneliness he will never be able to articulate, and he is grateful to her for seeing him.

“OK,” she says. “Here’s the thing. We are not leaving this store until you ask that babe out.”

“Lily,” he says.

“What?”

“Her name is Lily.”

Casey smiles. “OK then. Go get her.”

* * *

At the moment he approaches her, she suddenly crouches down on one knee to fix the clasp of her guitar case, and so he is now standing over her. He feels too large and imposing, so he backs away, but now the distance is too great, an awkward distance for conversation, so he takes a step forward, but now he has advanced, retreated, and advanced again, which makes him feel like an idiot, and if she’s aware of him standing there, he’s sure he looks like an idiot, so he goes back to his original position and waits for her to stand up, feeling much too big and awkward standing here in the Children’s Books section, with its miniature tables and the little red chairs with white flowers carved into the seatbacks.

She stands back up and slings her guitar case over her shoulder, only then noticing him standing there. He has never been this close before. She has two faint craters in her forehead just above her left eye, and her eyes in general are bigger than he realized, and a deep green that he finds instantly appealing despite the appearance of dark, tired shadows beneath them. She looks a little sad to him, or maybe just hungover. He has no idea because, despite how long he has been coming here to see her, he doesn’t actually know the first thing about her.

“I don’t know anything about you,” he blurts out.

She nods, considering the information. “There are support groups,” she says.

Sarcasm. Or maybe repartee? It’s hard to say.

“I’m Silver,” he says, offering his hand. She takes it.

“I know who you are.”

“You do?”

“You’re the guy who comes every week and stands like a spy behind those shelves while I sing.”

He can feel himself blushing. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK.”

He feels the urgent need to say something clever. “I like the way you sing.”

Now it’s her turn to blush. “They’re just kids’ songs.”

“I know. Still.”

“Well, thank you.”

An empty silence descends upon them. How the hell is this supposed to work, anyway? People meet people every day. They talk, they go out, they kiss, they fuck, they fall in love, they make families, and all because they managed to push past any initial introversion and awkwardness to make contact. He wishes they were drunk.

“I’m not good at this.”

“At what?”

“At talking to you.”

“A lot of people aren’t good at talking to me. You should meet my parents.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”

She smiles wryly, then looks up into his eyes, really looks at him, trying to figure him out. “This is a strange conversation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s fine.”

She is still looking right into his eyes. It’s disconcerting, actually. He realizes how rare that is, how few people in his life actually look right at him like that. He suspects this is more his fault than theirs. These last years have buried an aspect of his confidence, and he doesn’t know how to access it. But now Lily is looking at him, and there’s something both wise and damaged in her eyes, something bold in her shyness, something that feels warm and draws him in the same way her singing does. He senses a profound kindness in her, a softness he wants very badly to know and to protect
. Be a better man
. He could be a better man for her.

Lily looks at him strangely. “You know you’re saying this out loud, right?” she says.

He hears his voice retroactively, after she points it out.

“I do now,” he says.

* * *

He and Casey walk home in the teeming rain, sharing a small drugstore umbrella. He throws his arm around her and her arm falls easily around his waist, and cars speed past them, kicking up hissing sprays of water from the flooding streets, and Casey is laughing as he replays the conversation for her, and she is beautiful and happy and his, and he wishes he could freeze this moment and live in it forever.