Totally and Completely Fine(33)

Now, as she played with Teddy in the bookstore, ignoring Chani, I looked at her—this awkward, in-between girl—and saw both who she’d been as a child and who she’d be as an adult. It was weird. Good-weird. But sad-weird too because I knew that Spencer would have delighted in every stage, even the difficult ones.

I knew—intimately enough—that being a teenager without the dad you adored was kind of the worst thing ever, but she would have been swept up in the riptide of hormones and acne and crushes and utter loathing of adults no matter what. Would it have been more bearable for her if her dad were here? Or just more bearable for me?

The answer was obvious—yes, of course, to both.

If Spencer were here, would she still be as sullen and taciturn and completely emotionally closed off? If her dad were here, would Lena give him the same cold shoulder she gave me? Or would their relationship have withstood the ravages of teen years? They’d had a special bond—their own way of communicating. He always knew how to make her smile.

He’d been her favorite parent.

It wasn’t fair, but it was true.

I had my own strengths.

I could turn a mishmash of ingredients into a meal, scraps of fabric into a pillow, and a skein of yarn into a hat. If it was tactile and a little bit fidgety, that’s where I excelled. There was something about the attention it required that really appealed to me. How the world could narrow into a single, simple point of concentration, everything else going blurry.

It was harder for something to hurt you when it wasn’t even in focus.

Gabe hadn’t given us much time to prepare. He’d texted yesterday saying that he’d be back in Cooper and was bringing a guest and could we take care of Teddy and then also host dinner the following night?

Little brothers. They had no respect for schedules. Timing. Planning.

Instead of telling him that, of course, I made a lasagna and homemade garlic bread. Dessert. All ready to go. Gabe could be an inconsiderate idiot sometimes, but he took care of us in his way.

Besides, making things? I could do that.

Focus narrowed, attention centered. Everything else a blur.

“She seems nice,” Mom said once the three of us were in the car heading back to the house. “Don’t you think, Lena?”

There was barely a shrug from the back seat.

“You need to be polite,” I told her. “Chani is our guest.”

She rolled her eyes. I’d had enough.

“Lena!”

“What?” she snapped back.

I turned completely around in my seat.

“Do not give me that tone,” I said. “I don’t care what kind of mood you’re in today.”

Sometimes life sucked. We still had to be polite to guests.

“You will be kind and courteous to your uncle’s friend while she is visiting,” I said.

“She’s not his friend,” Lena grumbled. “She’s a reporter.”

To Lena, the word was basically synonymous with “soul-sucking monster.” I couldn’t really blame her—the press had been shitty and relentless after Spencer’s death, during Gabe’s time in rehab.

But I also knew that Chani wasn’t just some reporter that Gabe had brought to Montana.

“They’re friends,” I said. “And you will behave yourself.”

I knew she wanted to keep arguing. I could see it in the way she set her jaw, the scrunched-up set of her eyebrows.

“Let’s just get through dinner,” Mom said.

“How long do you think she’s in town for?” I asked.

My mom looked over at me, eyebrows raised.

“From the look on Gabe’s face?” she said. “I think he’s hoping forever.”

* * *

—

Dinner was painfully awkward.

Or maybe just according to me, because I kept cringing at Lena’s behavior—which had not improved—and hoping that Chani wasn’t judging us too harshly. Gabe was running interference to the best of his abilities, making himself the butt of jokes when possible and gently teasing everyone else. His newly grown beard was helpful fodder.

It was clear that my mom was right—that he was fully and completely smitten with this woman. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him like this. Even when he’d been with Jacinda—who I adored—their relationship had always been more of a transactional friends-with-benefits thing.

We Parkers had never really understood the point of it, but we had considered Jacinda family nonetheless. Still did.

“They’re married but not in love?” Spencer had asked me many, many times.

“He’s your friend,” I’d respond.

That’s how it had been with us and Gabe. When I thought he was being ridiculous, he was “Spencer’s friend.” When Spencer thought that, he was “your brother.” And then when Lena joined the mix, we also got to call him “Lena’s uncle” as a way to excuse what we couldn’t understand.

“I don’t get it,” Spencer had said.

“Yeah, well, it’s a Hollywood thing, I think,” I’d say, as if I had a clue.

I watched Lena stab her lasagna—which thankfully had turned out very well—and made a furtive wish that we could get through this dinner without bloodshed.