collapsible tray at his side with a deep exhale. “So, I heard from Sadie there’s some trouble back home. Have you been able to reach your people?”
I nodded and held the beer between both hands in my lap. “I spoke with my sister and brother and they’ve escaped with very little damage, thankfully.”
“That’s good. And what about your dad?” Carl knew my mother had passed, but I never spoke of my father so I suppose it made sense he asked.
Feeling raw and not having the energy to edit myself, I answered honestly. “I don’t care much, to be honest.”
Instead of expressing surprise or censure, Carl simply nodded and said, “Fair enough.”
And then for reasons I didn’t understand, I began to talk about the one thing I always tried my best to never think about. “You know how they say the opposite of love isn’t hate but indifference?”
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard that, but I guess that makes sense.” He nodded.
“I’ve tried all my life to be indifferent when it comes to my father, but I’ve never quite achieved it. Since my mother died, I’ve kept my head down and the bigger picture always in focus. I learned how to take care of myself and my siblings, I taught myself computer applications and worked my way through school so I could provide for my family. I went to teacher meetings and doctor appointments, I cooked, I cleaned, I never took a day off. There was no time for anger or loneliness or panic—so you’d think I’d have indifference down to a science, wouldn’t you?” I looked straight at him, as if expecting an answer even though the question was rhetorical.
Carl’s expression was almost apologetic and I immediately wished I hadn’t spoken. I shook my head and mustered a dismissive smile. “I’m so sorry. Just ignore me. It’s been an emotional day.”
But he wasn’t having it. “Not a chance. You can talk all you want—you do remember I lived with Sadie and Ruby, right?”
My smile was more genuine this time. “Point taken. I retract my apology.”
That pleased him, but I didn’t really feel like talking anymore.
“You like baseball?” he asked, gesturing to the TV before taking another swallow of his beer.
I glanced at the screen where the crowd was cheering over some successful play. “I can’t say that I’ve ever really sat and watched a game before. Who are we supporting?”
It took him a second to get my meaning and then he proceeded to explain why the Ashville Arrows were the team to watch this season. I let most of it go over my head, just happy to sit and have a little company.
It wasn’t until what they call the seventh-inning stretch that Carl started talking as if picking up in the middle of a conversation. “I know I told you my wife died a few years back—Beth was her name. Prettiest girl at Kernersville High.” He waggled his eyebrows and I couldn’t help my grin. “I didn’t know what I’d do when she died. Part of me just wanted to go join her.”
Carl didn’t ever hide his pain—or his temper—which was one of the reasons I was drawn to him. He’d suffered loss just as I had.
“But Sadie and Ruby, they’ve pulled me through, even while they’ve been missing Beth too. All of us have been dealing with the grief in our own way, and we give each other the space to do that.”
I swallowed down a lump in my throat. “That’s actually quite lovely, Carl.”
“I don’t know about lovely, but it works fine.” He shook his head, giving himself a minute to get over what he liked to refer to as my “flowery” language. “Sounds to me like you’ve been working so hard at not feeling that you kinda forgot you have a right to feel however you damn well please. Your daddy seems like he’s the one feeling indifferent, and if that’s what he likes, that’s fine, but it sounds awfully lonely to me.” He shrugged as he sat in his green recliner like my own personal Dear Abby. “If you’re pissed at your dad, be pissed until you don’t feel like being pissed anymore. I don’t know, maybe people say shit like ‘he don’t deserve your tears,’ but they’re your tears and you don’t need to be feeling bad about feeling bad. Feel whatever you want and don’t apologize. You know what I mean?”
Tears pricked my eyes and the nearly-full beer can crinkled in my grip. “I think