Totally and Completely Fine(73)

We all just pretended nothing had happened.

The store turned out to be the best gift Gabe could have given us.

Most of us.

Mom loved putting her expertise and years of English-teacher experience into effect without the firm hand of the school board telling her what she could or could not teach.

I enjoyed the routine of it all—expectations neatly lined up, lists of tasks to be done—it made me feel in control of my life for the first time in a while. I never had to go work at the grocery store again, never had to bring home armfuls of bent, discounted cans that no one else would buy. I made my own schedule and learned a whole bunch of new skills I’d never been given a chance to develop. I had time to work on things I loved: knitting and baking. The early access to new cookbooks was a major bonus.

We’d all assumed that once he got used to the idea—once Gabe and he had made up—Spencer would manage the Cozy. That it would be something we’d all do together.

Instead, he continued working at the hardware store, even though I could tell he was exhausted and bored by it all.

But when I asked him why he didn’t want to switch, his answer nearly broke my heart.

“It would just be the same thing in a different location,” he said. “It’s all the same.”

I could tell he was depressed, but he wouldn’t admit it. Not to me, not to himself.

Yes, he loved me, and he loved Lena, and he was always present with her, but at night, when we’d crawl into bed, I’d have my cookbook to read and I’d turn to him, halfway through a recipe, and find that he was just sitting there, staring out into nothingness.

“I’m fine,” he always said. “Everything is fine.”

Gabe brought Jacinda to Cooper for Lena’s birthday. It was the first time we’d met her, and she was beautiful and refined and initially intimidating. But after a day or so, the two of us bonded over our preference for tea over coffee and our shared interest in fiber arts （her as a consumer, me as a creator）。

Lena was showered with gifts.

“She doesn’t need all this stuff,” I told Gabe.

He shrugged. “What else am I going to spend my money on?”

“I hope you’re saving some of it,” I said. “Instead of blowing it on Legos.”

He looked good, though, and he didn’t touch a drop of alcohol the entire time he was visiting. If nothing else, that helped to endear Jacinda to my mother, since she seemed to be at least part of the reason Gabe was able to stay sober.

Not that anyone mentioned his drinking.

The best part was that he and Spencer started going on their long walks again. Spencer took time off, and every morning they’d set out and wouldn’t return until lunchtime. And just like when they were kids, when I asked where they were going, Spencer would just say “around.”

He was happy.

It was a nice visit and none of us wanted it to end.

Gabe, of course, had gotten us “goodbye gifts.”

“That’s not a thing,” I told him.

“I’m making it a thing,” he said.

“We don’t need anything else.”

He’d already bought us a new TV, a new TV stand, a swing for the backyard, and a new set of towels for the guest room （though I was pretty sure that was for his and Jacinda’s benefit）， and had taken us out to dinner almost every night.

“I am a decent cook,” I’d remind him.

“And I’m not,” he’d say. “So let me do this for you guys, okay?”

I wanted to tell him that his presence was enough. That all we wanted was to see him and spend time with him. But part of me wondered if he’d believe me.

“One more gift,” Gabe said. “This one’s for Spencer.”

The person who would never admit to wanting anything. The person who was utterly impossible to shop for.

The gift was a slim envelope. A check.

“This is too much,” Spencer said when he opened it. “We don’t need more money.”

“That’s a scholarship,” Gabe said. “So you can go back to school. Get your degree.”

There had never been a more perfect gift.

Spencer didn’t cry, but he did stare at the check for a very long time and then gave Gabe a hug. I heard a muffled thank you and I love you.

I knew this was going to change his life.

The next day, Spencer called the hardware store and quit.

Chapter 39

Now

I dreamed about Spencer that night. It started as one of those nonsense dreams—I always seemed to be without pants, and wandering some weird mall that felt familiar but wasn’t. For whatever reason, I really needed to find a certain stand that served those Chinese egg yolk pastries that I’d had once when I’d gone to visit Gabe in L.A. for a premiere. Instead, I kept finding saltwater taffy sellers, but all they had was cinnamon-flavored taffy. Every time one of the vendors would offer me a sample, Spencer would take it, as if he’d been with me the whole time. He kept saying “This is good, Lauren, you should try it,” and I’d try it, and it wouldn’t be right, and I would get mad at him because they weren’t the pastries I wanted. Right before I woke up, I remembered him saying “Fine, if you don’t want it, then I’ll just give it to the fish.”

I woke up wondering who or what the fish was.