up the phone, the quiet, relaxed atmosphere of a few minutes ago seems to be ruined. I can feel the tension in every inch of his body. “I hate going over there,” he finally says. “Hell, I’d rather go out to Jersey again to see your family.”
A few weeks ago, we drove out to New Jersey to spend the weekend with my parents. I was a little worried about the whole thing, but Luke was so charming that my parents loved him. They even let us sleep in the same room—a first. Although we had to take the den, since my old bedroom was upstairs, and since there was no door to the room, there couldn’t be any hanky-panky.
“I know your dad was a jerk to you,” I say, “but he looked pretty sick last time we were there. He’s not going to be around forever.”
“Don’t make me laugh. People like that live to be a hundred.”
“People like what?”
Luke is quiet for a moment. “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about my father anymore.”
But even though he refuses to talk about it, I can tell Luke can’t stop thinking about the dinner tonight.
_____
If the drive out to Weston was tense last time we went, it’s much worse this time. Luke doesn’t say a word the whole time, and he drives even more like a maniac than usual. At one point, I swear we’re on two wheels. I don’t know why he’s so much more on edge this time than last.
By the time he pulls up in front of the giant house, my heart is pounding. I can’t believe we made it here alive. If Luke didn’t look so miserable, I would have yelled at him for the way he was driving—it’s almost like he was hoping we would crash so he didn’t have to go to this dinner.
As Luke kills the engine, he puts his thumb in the neck of his tie and loosens it a bit. “Let’s get this over with.”
He has more trouble than usual putting his chair back together outside of the car. He usually pops the wheels back into place, but this time he drops one of the wheels before he can get it positioned. He starts to grab it from the ground, but it’s not easy for him without full use of his hands and the stress is making him clumsy. He hates it when I help him, but I reach over and pick it up for him. He shoots me a withering look, but I had to help him. This is hard enough without watching him struggle.
And then when we approach the front door, Luke’s eyes go wide. It takes me a second to realize what he’s upset about: that splintered wooden ramp isn’t there.
Luke curses under his breath. “What the hell?”
“They probably just forgot.”
“Bullshit. I bet my father told Maria not to put it out.” He looks down on his watch. “Let’s just go.”
“Luke! We drove all the way here! We promised to come for dinner, and your mother is looking forward to seeing you. We can’t just leave!”
He looks up at me, then back at the stairs to the entrance. He lets out a sigh. “Fine.”
He gets out his phone and calls his mother to tell her the ramp is missing. A few minutes later, a middle-aged woman with her hair in a tight black bun comes out with that splintered wooden board I recognize from my last visit. “Lo siento, Lucas,” she says. “Is my fault.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “I’m sure.”
Now that I’ve been with Luke for several months, I realize how inadequate the board is for him. It’s good enough to get him into the house, but barely. It’s much steeper than the standard ramp. Because he doesn’t have working hands, it’s harder for him to push on such a steep surface—I can see him trying to keep from sliding back down again as he pushes.
Maria opens the door for us, and once again, I’m overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and expanse of this house. I can’t imagine what it’s like to grow up in a house like this. No wonder Luke was such a spoiled brat in college.
Sophie is standing by the entrance to greet us. The first thing she does is throw her arms around me in a crushing hug. I feel her soft hair against my face and get a whiff of her expensive perfume.
“Ellie!” she cries. “You look beautiful. It’s so good to see you