“YOU AND ASHLEY looked cozy in the beer garden last week.” Dan sits down across from me at a table in the café at Whidbey Joe’s. Back from Italy for over a week, this is the first time I’ve seen him since Choochokum.
I immediately spin around to see who overheard him. The only other people in the café are a pair of young baristas, who are watching videos on one of their phones.
“Shh,” I whisper when I face him. “The whole world doesn’t need to know.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“You sound like you’re in the mafia.” He does. We always joke about the pizza mafia being behind his fat bank account and recluse status. Turns out he’s legitimate, if not a made man in the secret pizza mafia. Whenever Erik or I ask about it, he denies there’s even such a thing as a pizza mafia, so it probably does exist.
He keeps pressing. “What’s the deal with the two of you?”
I fidget as he stares at me. “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I said nothing.”
“Didn’t look like nothing from what I saw.”
“You must need your eyes checked. Or maybe you confused me for Erik. I hear it happens.”
“Might, but Cari looks nothing like Ashley.”
He makes a good point. “It’s complicated.”
“If you do have something with her, don’t turn her into a dirty, little secret like Tom did. She deserves more respect. Especially from you.”
“Why me?”
If humans could shoot lasers out of their eyes, I’d be charred. “Don’t play dumb with me. The two of you have a long history with complicated feelings. I’ve been in your spot before. And I wasted too much time denying the truth.”
“Seems like things turned out okay. You and Roslyn are having a baby. She’s wearing your ring.” Dan and Roslyn’s story sounds like an old school pop song from the sixties. They’re disgustingly happy. I want to be them when I grow up.
He brushes a hand over his salt and pepper hair. “But how much time did I miss spending with her? Five years gone. We’re never getting those days back. I’m going to regret walking away when I’m on my deathbed or she’s on hers.”
“That took a morbid turn.”
“If you’re really in love with her, you shout it from the mountain tops. Real love isn’t a secret you hide.”
“I think she was dating Anderson McPhee. You know anything about that?”
“No, she wasn’t.” His voice leaves zero room for argument.
“They met up at a club in Seattle at the start of summer. He brought her to a party.”
Dan chuckles before lowering his voice. “Ever hear about a beard?”
“Uh,” I tug on my facial hair, “these chin whiskers?”
“No, the kind that involves a secret and a fake girlfriend. Especially in sports?”
“McPhee’s gay?” My voice goes up and then I shift to a whisper. “I thought he had a thing for Roslyn, too?”
“All an act.” Dan shakes his head. “I still don’t like him for a lot of other reasons, but none of them are for him chasing after Roslyn.”
“Why doesn’t he just come out? There are other gay players.”
“Most come out after they retire.”
“That’s messed up.”
Dan nods. “Imagine being forced to pretend you didn’t love who you love.”
The bastard brought the conversation full circle.
“I get it.”
“Don’t blow McPhee’s cover. Roslyn might not like him or work with him anymore, but she isn’t going to reveal his secrets,” Dan warns me.
“Keeping secrets is what we do best around here.” If he only knew how deep some of our secrets go.
“So I’m learning.” He nods and finishes his coffee.
“You fit right in.”
“I’m not sure if I should take it as a compliment, but I’m going to. There are a lot of reasons I moved to Whidbey five years ago, and a few more why I have a gate at the end of my drive.” Typical Dan, he’s not being defensive, just stating facts.
“It’s because you’re really Batman, right?” I half-joke.
He stares at me blank faced for a moment. “You know I can’t tell you the truth.”
I want to be him when I grow up.
The call comes from Mom around five thirty on Saturday afternoon. My gut tells me to let it go to voicemail, but I ignore the heavy stone lodged below my ribs and take the call.
Dad’s taken the sailboat to Freeland and there’s an issue at the boat launch. Last time I saw the Donna Louise she was in her slip in the Langley Marina after Ashley and I took her out.
With a resigned sigh, I tell the original Donna Louise Kelso I’ll drive over and check on him.
I’m surprised there’s something wrong with the boat. I’ve been taking it out and sailing around the island almost weekly.
When I arrive at the lot near the launch, I see Dad’s truck and the trailer jack-knifed on the ramp, blocking it for anyone else. The trailer with the boat on it rests with its back end in the water. Both the truck’s doors are closed, and there’s no sign of my dad.
I pull my rig into a spot and park. With a deep breath, I prepare myself for whatever comes next.
A sheriff’s SUV idles on the shoulder of the road. I recognize Jesse King’s buzz cut and broad shoulders standing next to my dad’s truck.
“Hey, Carter. Guess your mom called you?” he greets me as I walk over to him.
“Hey. She did. Sorry about this. I can pull the truck around and free up the ramp.”
“Tried that already. Doors are locked. Do you think your dad might’ve wandered off?”
“Did you look in the boat?”
He blinks at me. “No.”
“Mind if I do?” I move closer to the trailer to confirm my hunch.
“Go for it,” King says.
I step on the wheel well of the trailer and peer over the side. Dad’s on his back, arm over his eyes, and out cold. No wonder he didn’t hear the fuss going on a few feet away.
“Found him.” I swing one leg and then the other over the edge. Standing in the cockpit, I think about kicking Dad awake, but not with an audience. The scent of beer hits me. Looks like he fell off the wagon and right into the boat. At least he decided to take a nap before he finished getting the boat into the water. He’d probably run aground and damage the keel. Or hit another boat. Or get himself injured. Or killed. How he even got her out of the marina and onto the trailer is a mystery.
I guess it says a lot about my relationship with my dad that my first concern is for the boat.
Most of the time Erik and I act like the parent, cleaning up Dad’s messes and trying to keep him from fucking up all of our lives. Again.
“You’re going to need to move the truck. Is he okay to drive?” Officer King asks from behind me.
I crouch down and rub Dad’s shoulder. “Wake up. Hey, Sleepyhead.”
He grunts and rolls over, kicking a beer can, which pours its contents into the bottom of the boat.
“Come on. You need to get up. You can sleep at home.” I shake his arm while I think about slapping him awake.
“Leave me alone,” he mumbles.
“Can’t do that.” No matter how much I wish I could walk away. “Where are your keys?”
With his eyes closed, he opens his mouth and scratches the graying stubble on his cheek before reaching his other hand into his front pocket.
I take the keys dangling from his finger. “Thanks.”
He opens one eye and gives me a thumb’s up.
Bracing my hand on the edge of the boat, I hop down to the ground.
King gives me a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder. “Listen, you can’t leave him in there if you’re driving, but I won’t say anything as long as you pull into the lot across the street. We just need to get the ramp cleared and then what you two decide to do is up to you. Don’t let him get behind the wheel.”
I give him a quick nod. I’m torn between being grateful and resenting his enabling. Maybe one of these days we should all let Carl Kelso hit bottom. Remove the nets and safety harness. Cut the cord and let him fall.
He’s an anchor dragging the whole family down with him.
I resist the urge to call out to Jesse and tell him to press charges. Fuck the small town code of protecting our own. It’s bullshit.
We keep pretending there’s not an issue and lives aren’t at stake.
I can’t leave him in the lot. When he wakes up, he’ll be inebriated and probably over the limit. If I let him drive home and something happens, I’ll be responsible. The guilt would smother me.
I’m mad at my mom for putting me into this position, but that anger is nothing compared to the unspeakable hatred I’m feeling toward my dad.
Seething, I open the truck’s door. An empty beer can rolls out and clatters on the concrete at my feet. I’m tempted to kick it under the truck, but don’t want to make things worse by littering.
“Owe you one,” I tell King as he climbs into his vehicle.
He slaps the roof. “We’ll call it a draw. You saved me a bunch of paperwork at the station.”
Pressing my lips together to keep from saying something I’ll regret, I give him a half wave as he drives away. I pull into the lot next to my truck.
Can’t blame him for not wanting to get involved in the Kelso family drama.
In anger, I bang on the wooden hull. “Wake the fuck up.”
More grumbling comes from inside.
“I’ll throw you in the water if you don’t get out of that boat.”
“Carter? Is that you?”
“It’s not the Tooth Fairy.” I slap the wood. “Dad, the sheriff’s already been here. We need to get you home.”
“It’s a good day for a sail. I thought I’d take the boat out for a spin.” His disheveled hair appears above me and I can hear him scrambling around. “Must’ve needed a nap.”
“Must’ve. Next time take your nap on the couch at home.”
“What’re we doing in the parking lot?” Now he’s standing in the boat, looking around like he’s been dropped here by aliens. “I swear I put this boat in the water.”
“You managed to park the trailer before you fell asleep, Rip van Winkle.”
“Well, damn.” He runs a hand over the mess of hair on his head. “This is a first.”
“What were you doing?” I don’t bother keeping the annoyance out of my voice.
He shrugs. “Probably messing with the rigging on the boom and needed a nap.”
His red rimmed eyes focus on my face. “Your mom call you?”
“Yep. Your network of enablers came to your rescue again.” I practically spit the words out like small tacks.
“I like to think I have an army of guardian angels watching out for me.” He attempts to get off the boat by pressing his belly on the edge and swinging a leg over the side.
“Drop is pretty high right there.” I move closer, grabbing his leg and steadying him. “Bend your knees or you’re likely to roll an ankle.”
He follows my instructions and makes the landing, but is too unsteady to hold his balance. Before I can reach him, he wobbles and ends up on his ass in a pile of drying kelp on the wet ramp.
“Damn it, Dad.” I lean down to help him up. “You promised us you’d stop drinking.”
“Been keeping it. Mostly.”
“What about today?”
“Suns out and we’ve had a busy month. Thought I’d enjoy myself this afternoon with some time out on the water.”
While he brushes off his baggy jeans, I head to the driver’s door. “How’d that plan work out for you?”
“Don’t act like a pissy brat. I had a couple of beers. No big deal. Not like I went on a bender. No damage. No one got hurt. Had a good nap in my boat. Can’t sue a man for napping.” He shuffles around the hood to the passenger door.
“You blocked the Freeland boat ramp with your nap for at least forty minutes.”
“Is that a crime?” He’s completely nonchalant about the disturbance he’s created.
“Passing out in a boat after driving probably means you were drunk before you got to the ramp. You’re lucky Jesse King didn’t run a sobriety test on you.”
“No proof I drove the truck.” He sounds pleased with his twisted logic.
“Unbelievable,” I grumble as I put his truck into gear and slowly pull out of the lot. I’ll have to get a ride later to pick up my own truck.
“You worried someone’s going to care what your old man does on his day off? So what if this ends up in the police record. I’ll add it to the family collection. We take care of each other on this island.”
While some families save newspaper clippings of articles with accolades, my dad has a scrapbook full of every mention we’ve had in the local police blotter. Strangely, he’s proud of being notorious. Usually tells us there’s no such thing as bad press. To which I remind him the paper removes names and unless he goes around bragging, no one would know for sure it’s about us.
Although most people can guess. The gossip chain studies the weekly paper like they’re a gang of Agatha Christie characters solving mysteries. Nothing makes them crankier than not being in the know with the latest scandal or drama.
Ashley had the right idea when she moved off the island. A narrow strip of water can be enough to escape. It’s like there’s a moat around the island, containing the crazy, protecting the rest of the world from our unique brand of madness.
Dad’s snores break the uncomfortable silence of the cab. Resting his head against the window, he’s back asleep in the warm sunshine.
When we arrive at my parents’ house, I text Erik before waking Dad. Mom comes out the front door, wringing her hands until she spots Dad in the cab. Her expression morphs through several emotions, from worry to relief to embarrassment before settling on anger. It’s a look I recognize from when Erik or I screw up in a major way, but mostly she reserves it for her beloved husband.
There are times when I wish we were past this moment in our lives. How different would life be if Dad wasn’t in the picture. I’ve even felt relieved thinking about him being dead and gone.
Probably going to hell for feeling that, but it’s the honest truth.
I want off this rollercoaster he’s created. I don’t want to spend my life cleaning up messes.
I’m tired of being fodder for gossip and rumor.
Around here Kelso is synonymous for scandal.