“Hi there, Mr. McAvoy,” says a nasally voice, “this is Errol Mitchell with Peak Performance Investments. I’m calling because I heard about your recent good fortune, and I’ve got some inside information about an opportunity that might be very interesting to you, but we’ve got to move fast. So give me a call and we’ll talk about your financial future. Congratulations!”
When it ends I look over at Teddy, who shrugs. “Happens all the time.”
“I thought you changed your number.”
“I did,” he says. “Twice.”
“And you still get calls?”
“Ten or twelve a day. More on my cell.”
Leo whistles. “Wow.”
“Yup,” Teddy says, carrying his plate over to the kitchen to get more food. As he walks by he punches a button to delete the message.
On the table Leo’s phone begins to jitter, and when he picks it up he freezes. I crane my neck to see the name on the screen: Max. When I look up again our eyes meet, and then Leo grabs the phone and scrapes back his chair.
“Be right back,” he mumbles, heading for Teddy’s bedroom. A minute later we hear the sound of the door clicking shut.
“Max?” Teddy asks from the kitchen.
I nod. “I don’t think they’ve talked since…”
“That’s a good sign, then,” Teddy says, walking over to the table. Outside it’s fully dark now, and I can see his reflection in the window. He’s wearing the same shirt he had on the morning after his birthday, the one with the lucky shamrock, and his hair is sticking up in the back the way it always does.
When he sits down across from me, his face is serious. “I’m sorry,” he says. “About today. And about our grade.”
I nod. It’s a relief to hear him say it—and even more than that, to know that he means it. “Thank you,” I tell him, and I mean that too. “It’ll be fine. I can’t imagine they’ll pull my acceptances on account of some soggy cardboard.”
He nods. “I really am sorry for leaving like that. I just needed to get out of there.”
“I know.”
“It was a lot, with my dad and the guys, then the boat too….It sort of felt like the whole place was laughing at me.”
“At us,” I correct, but he shakes his head.
“No, it was definitely me.” He puts his head in his hands and rakes his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what’s happening. It felt like more than just razzing. It felt like they really hated me.” He looks lost right now, like all it took was a single afternoon to rattle so much of what he knows to be true. “How can they already hate me? I haven’t even done anything yet except give them stuff.”
I press my lips together, not sure what to say. Teddy’s always been insecure about money, and it’s obvious he assumed this windfall would change all that. But having too much money comes with its own set of problems.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he says, lowering his chin. “It just happened to me. So how could they possibly—”
“It’s because you’re different now.”
“What? No, I’m not.”
“You are,” I say. “Or you will be.”
“But nothing’s changed,” Teddy insists, his voice breaking on the last word. “Nothing important, anyway.”
“What happened to you…it makes you separate from them in a way.” I pause, chewing on my lip. “It happened to me after my mom died too, when we were still out in San Francisco.”
Teddy looks up sharply, surprised to be invited into this part of my life.
“One day I was like all my friends,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “And the next I was the girl with the dead mother. Everyone tiptoed around me for a while, then they just kind of stopped playing with me. I’d come home crying every day and my dad thought it was because of my mom, which is it was, partly, but it was also because of what was happening at school, and I couldn’t tell him that, because it seemed so small in comparison, you know?”
He nods.
“But I kind of get it now. Everything was different, and they didn’t know how to act around me anymore.”
“That’s awful,” Teddy says darkly.
“Maybe. But that’s just how people are. It’s not really about you. It’s about them. So don’t let it get to you, okay?”
Teddy clears his throat. “I’m sorry your friends did that to you.”
“I was in third grade,” I say, waving this away. “I barely remember their names.”
“Yeah,” he says. “But still.”
After a moment I nod. “Still.”
He leans back in the chair, suddenly looking very tired. “I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought it would be more…”
“Fun?”
He nods.
“It was,” I say. “For a while. But there were always gonna be hard parts too.”
“See, I wish someone had told me that earlier,” he says with a wry smile. “Here I was thinking it was just gonna be bags of money and dreams coming true.”
“Money doesn’t fix everything.”
“I know,” he says, nodding, and then some of the light comes back into his eyes. “But it can fix some things.”
“Like what?”
“Well, it can be used for stuff like plane tickets and hotel rooms and—”
“Are you skipping town again?”
“Actually, yes,” he says with a grin. “And so are you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’re going to San Francisco. Or, to be more accurate, we’re going to Palo Alto. To see Stanford.”
“You’re joking,” I say, staring at him hard, but he shakes his head.
“I’m not.”
“You’re serious?”
“I am.”
“You and me?”
“Me and you.”
“No way,” I say, letting out a laugh, half-surprised and half-confused.
Teddy’s eyes are dancing. “Look, I know you think I’ve gone a little too crazy with the money, and maybe you’re right. But I want to spend it on things I care about. On people I care about. And that means you. So hopefully this is okay.”
I’m not sure what to say. “Teddy—”
“You’ve had your heart set on Stanford forever, but you haven’t actually been there in a million years, and I really think you should see it again before you decide.”
I nod, slightly overwhelmed. The full impact of this is just starting to sink in, not only Teddy’s thoughtfulness but what it means to be going back to California after all this time, to return to a place with so many memories, so many ghosts.
“I was worried it might be too hard,” Teddy continues, speaking more carefully now, his forehead knit with concern. “Going back. But I figure you’ll have to do it at some point, and wouldn’t it be better if you had someone with you?”
“Much better,” I say gratefully, and he looks relieved.
“I already talked to Sofia and Jake, and they thought it was a great idea,” he says; then he pauses and the tips of his ears go red. “They just wanted to make sure we’d have separate hotel rooms, which we do. Really, really nice ones.”
I feel my face flush, so I ask the first question that comes to mind, eager to move on. “When are we going?”
“This weekend. You busy?”
“I am now,” I say, unable to stop smiling, because I can’t believe this is actually happening, that after all these years I’m finally going back to San Francisco, the city that still has such a grip on me—and not just that but I’ll be going with Teddy, the two of us alone together for an entire weekend. “What about Leo?”
“He knows too,” Teddy says, waving an arm toward the back of the apartment, where Leo is presumably still on the phone with Max. “He tried to weasel his way into it with some nonsense about wanting to see Alcatraz, but I promised I’d take him somewhere else once school’s out. This one is just you and me.” He hesitates, looking less certain. “Is that okay?”
> “Yes,” I manage to say. “Of course. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“How about you promise to hate Stanford so you won’t be so far away next year?”
I laugh. “How about something else?”
“How about you let me give you a million bucks?”
“Try again.”
“How about you refill the salsa bowl?”
“You drive a hard bargain, McAvoy,” I say with a grin. “But you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I’m spooning salsa into the bowl when there’s a knock at the door. Teddy and I exchange a questioning look. It takes a minute for the answer to register across his face, and when it does he scrapes his chair back so hard it nearly topples over.
I watch him rush over to look through the peephole, then he pulls open the door. “Hey, Dad,” he says as Charlie appears, still wearing his suit, which is significantly more rumpled now. “Where have you been? I texted you after the race—”
“My phone was off,” his dad says. He’s standing with his hands on his hips, his eyes darting around the apartment. “Is your mom here?”
Teddy shakes his head. “No. What happened before?”
“It was nothing,” he says, then his eyes land on me. “Hey, Alice. Heard about your boat.” He says this in a tone so grave you’d think we lost the Titanic. “Bad luck.”
“It happens,” I say with a shrug.
He pats at his suit pocket, then reaches in and pulls out a bag of Skittles, which he tosses to Teddy, whose face lights up.
“No way,” he says, looking down at the package in his hand as if it was filled with precious stones rather than candy. He turns to where I’m still standing in the kitchen. “We used to play poker with these. Greens were worth the most.”
“Yup.” Charlie claps him on the back. “Greens were good. And you always managed to rack up a pretty nice little collection, if I remember correctly.”
“You taught me well,” Teddy says with a smile.
“So, hey,” Charlie says, rubbing his hands together. “Listen. I’m sorry to do this. But I was hoping I could take you up on your offer now and borrow a few bucks.”
I can feel Teddy’s eyes cut in my direction, but I stare down at the bowl of salsa. I don’t want him to see what I’m thinking, which is I knew it.
“Sure,” Teddy says, already reaching for his wallet. “How much do you need?”
“Maybe like a thousand?”
He pauses. “What?”
“Yeah, it’s stupid, really. I lost my wallet this morning and my credit card was in there, so I just need a little cash to get by until I figure it all out.”
Teddy shakes his head. “I don’t have that much here.”
“C’mon, kid,” Charlie says, his voice deliberately light. “You’re a millionaire now. You must have some cash lying around. How about five hundred?”
“Dad…”
“Or, tell you what. Maybe you can just write me a check instead. Unless there’s an ATM nearby?”
Teddy gives him a long look. “You were betting on the boat races,” he says, and it’s clear from the disappointment on his face that he suspected this all along, from the moment he saw his dad arguing up in the stands. He just didn’t want to believe it.
I close my eyes for a second, feeling like I shouldn’t be watching this unfold, shouldn’t be bearing witness to something so personal. But they’re right in the middle of the room, which means there’s no way to leave without interrupting. So instead I just stand there, trying to make myself invisible.
Charlie runs a hand through his graying hair with a sigh. “It wasn’t a real bet,” he says. “Just a little side wager. The guy next to me was bragging about his kid’s boat a few races before yours, and the thing looked like a floating shoe box, so I took the bet, but they ended up winning, and we went double or nothing on the next one, and…well, it’s not like I was at the tables in Vegas or anything.”
“You said you were done with all that,” Teddy says, and he looks so forlorn that I wish I could walk over and take his hand.
“I was,” Charlie says with a helpless shrug. “I am. It was just a onetime thing. A joke, really. Honestly it’s not a big deal.”
Teddy is chewing on his lip. “It kind of is.”
“God, Teddy,” Charlie says, impatient now. “What do you want, some kind of collateral?” He tugs off his jacket and shoves it at him. “Here, I don’t need this. There aren’t any business meetings. Is that what you want to hear?”
“You skipped them?” Teddy asks, and I realize he doesn’t yet understand what’s happening. There was never any job. There was never any business trip. There was only Charlie, hoping that by the time he patched things up with his son he’d have wrangled enough money out of him to cover the cost of it all, probably including the new suit.
“Come on,” Charlie says with a sudden grin. “You really think I’d give up the glamorous life of an electrician?” He fishes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, then holds it up. “Okay if I smoke?” But when he sees the look on Teddy’s face, he shrugs and puts them back. “Look, I saw you on the news and I thought I’d come out for a visit. It’s not a crime to want to see my son, is it?”
Teddy blinks at him. “So you knew.”
“I just—I saw you on TV and I was proud of you, so I—”
“For what?” Teddy asks, his voice cold. “I didn’t do anything.”
Charlie shrugs again. “Fine. Okay. I get that you’re mad. I just figured now that you’re the big winner in the family, you might be feeling generous.”
Teddy tips his head back. “I actually thought you were different,” he says to the ceiling, and I can tell he’s trying to collect himself. “I thought you’d changed.”
“It’s not like that was the only reason,” Charlie says, looking more contrite now. “You’re my son. I love you. I’ve been wanting to see you for years. It’s just—I kept waiting, hoping I’d kick this thing. Then one day I turn on the TV and there you are. And I just couldn’t wait any longer.”
Teddy shakes his head.
“C’mon, T,” Charlie says, attempting a smile. “Do you have any idea how many lottery tickets I’ve bought in my life? And how many times I’ve lost? Then you win big the first time you ever play? You have to admit it feels pretty good, right?”
This makes me look up at him. Because there’s a part of me that’s been thinking of this money as magic, something that’s been dropped into our lives out of nowhere like a pot of gold. But of course it’s not. It comes from people like Charlie McAvoy who play all the time. People who probably can’t afford to be buying ticket after ticket but still do.
Teddy draws himself up straighter. “I can’t give you the money.”
“Look,” Charlie says, his face darkening, “I’m supposed to meet this guy in an hour, and I owe him five hundred bucks.”
“You said a thousand before.”
“What does it matter? It’s nothing to you. Not anymore.” He attempts a grin, but there’s something elastic about it. “You’ll buy your mom a whole building, but you won’t even loan your old man a few bucks?”
A muscle twitches in Teddy’s jaw. “I can’t,” he says evenly, and without warning Charlie bangs a fist hard against the wall. Even in the kitchen, it’s enough to make me jump, sending my heart slamming against my chest. But not Teddy. He stands there, unflinching, his chin held high.
From the back of the apartment there’s the sound of a door opening, then Leo appears in the living room. He looks from Teddy to Charlie, then over to me. “Everything okay in here?” he asks with a frown.
“Fine,” Teddy says, eyes still on his dad. “He was just leaving.”
For a moment it seems like Charlie’s going to protest. He stands there rubbing his hand, looking surprised to have found himself in this situation. “Okay,” he says, adopting a gentler tone. “I get it. No more of this. Any of it. I swear—I swear—this will be the last time.”
Teddy
folds his arms across his chest, his face entirely blank. Leo walks over and joins me in the kitchen, resting his elbows on the counter. But though he looks relaxed, I can tell he’s watching carefully, ready to spring forward if needed.
“Teddy, come on,” Charlie says, sounding more desperate now. “At least just give me the five hundred bucks so I can square things away before I go. It’s the least you guys can do.” He shoots me a look, as if this whole thing is partly my fault. “I promise this’ll be the last time. This is it, then I’ll go back home and I won’t bother you anymore.”
“I’m not saying you should go,” Teddy says. “It’s been good to see you again. It’s just…”
“I know,” Charlie says miserably.
Teddy takes a small step closer to him. “Listen, I’ll go to a meeting with you. Right now. We’ll do this together.”
“I don’t need a meeting. I need money. All I’m asking for is a little help from my son, and you won’t even—”
“Rehab, then,” Teddy says, looking hopeful. “There must be some kind of program, right? I’ll do some research and make some arrangements—”
Charlie’s expression shifts again. “So you’ll pay for that,” he says, his eyes narrowing, “but you don’t trust me to do it on my own?”
“It’s not that, but—”
“Forget it.”
Teddy shakes his head. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”
“I can’t believe how much you’ve changed,” Charlie says with a scowl, and the words hang there for a second, because it’s exactly what you’d expect a father to say to his son after this much time has passed—only not like this, not when it’s hurled like an insult, bitter and spiteful and mean. “I thought I raised you better than this.”
Something inside Teddy seems to break at that. “You barely raised me at all,” he says. “You threw away our savings, our home, our family for a few rounds of poker. You promised to get help and you didn’t. You promised you wouldn’t disappear again and you did. You promised you’d never touch Mom’s bank account and you wiped it out in one weekend. And instead of sticking around to fix it, you took off.” His voice is rising, his eyes wet with tears. “It isn’t enough to send a bunch of stupid presents when you win. Stuff we don’t even need. We needed you, and you weren’t there, and now it’s too late. You know how many times you emailed me last year? Four. It takes like three seconds, and you couldn’t be bothered. Not even on my birthday. So you can’t just show up now and expect things to go back to normal. There is no normal. You made sure of that.”