（It bothers him; he loves it.）
But now Lucy answers his knock. She’s wearing sweats and a Willie Nelson T-shirt. “Hey,” she says, reaching her hand out and putting a finger through his belt loop.
“Hey,” says Robert. He is immediately ready.
“Want some popcorn?” she says, pulling him toward her.
“No,” he manages, pressing her to him, my God, my God.
Afterward, he says, “I love you.”
She rolls away from him. “You don’t,” she says.
He wishes, when she is gone, that he had insisted.
-3-
Charlie
CHARLIE IS SITTING ACROSS from his father at Kerbey Lane Cafe. His mom once told him that she worked here while she was pregnant with him. So far, Patrick （“Call me Dad!”） seems OK enough. Definitely on something, jittery and shifty-eyed, and maybe that was why his mom left? Has his dad been a druggie for fifteen years?
“So,” says Charlie, after they have ordered pancakes.
“Call me Dad,” repeats Patrick. His face has a lot of lines, running out from his bright eyes and across his forehead. Charlie stares at him and tries to understand his mother. “By the way,” says Patrick, sliding a business card across the table. “This is your aunt Darla. She asked me to give this to you. She said to call her if you ever need anything.” Charlie looks down at the card: DARLA KING, MASS. BAIL ENFORCEMENT.
“What?” he says. His mother has a sister?
“Not much of a market for bounty hunters anymore,” said Patrick. “She also sells essential oils.”
“Thanks,” says Charlie. He feels bewildered as he imagines a whole family tree opening its branches above him, unfurling its roots below. Patrick begins drumming his fingers on the table, looking around the restaurant but not at Charlie.
“Um, so is there anything you want to know about me?” says Charlie.
“She never told me where she was,” says Patrick. “I told myself…I didn’t let myself think about you.”
“I guess my mom didn’t…”
“No,” says Patrick. “She didn’t. She left and there was no way to find her.”
“Did you even try?” says Charlie, knowing he’s fishing for something but unable to stop himself. “Did you try to find us?”
“Of course I did!” says Patrick. But instead of elaborating, he holds up his coffee cup and taps it with his fork. A waitress turns and gives him a withering look, which he either doesn’t see or ignores. He mouths More coffee?
“Be right with you, sir,” says the waitress.
“How did you try to find me?” says Charlie.
Patrick looks at him blankly. “I’m going to run to the men’s,” he says, standing up.
Charlie feels himself sinking. His wrath toward his mother, which has sustained him for a long time, begins to ebb, exposing a bedrock of need. He’s been so angry at her for keeping him in the dark. He’s imagined many scenarios: His father is so wonderful she can’t bear to share Charlie.
His father is actually dead and she won’t give him the details out of some kind of misguided guilt.
His father is famous.
His father is a felon.
But it looks like his father is just a junkie.
Patrick walks back toward the table. Their waitress returns with coffee and their pancakes. Patrick sits, meets Charlie’s gaze sideways. “You were saying how hard you looked for me,” says Charlie.
“I sure did,” says his father.
Charlie uses the side of his fork to cut into his blueberry pancakes, then spears a large mouthful. “Tell me more?” he says.
“I have a quick errand,” says Patrick. “But I’ll be back.”
“What?” says Charlie.
“It’s a work emergency,” says Patrick. Charlie wants to hate him—he does, in fact, hate him—but his father’s desperation corrodes any anger into pity.
“So you’re an addict,” he says.
“I want to get better,” says Patrick. “I will get better. I want—” He looks at Charlie. His eyes are pools of need. “I’m sorry,” he says. Patrick stands up. He takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to be…” he says. He pauses. “I thought coming here, that maybe I would somehow…”
“Just go,” says Charlie. “I’ve got Mom.”
Patrick looks stricken. But he takes the chance Charlie’s given him to break away. He turns back a few times, as if he has something to say, but his addiction is more powerful than any remnants of love, and he exits the café.
Charlie sits at the table for a minute. He takes a bite, then another. He cleans his plate, then starts on his father’s pancakes. He opens up TikTok.
MY DAD IS A JUNKIE, he says.
I DON’T EVEN NEED A SOUNDTRACK FOR THIS ONE.
I FOUND MY DAD, AND HE’S A JUNKIE.
THAT’S WHY MY MOM NEVER…
He stops recording, just posts. He finishes his father’s sausage and home fries. The waitress returns. “You all right, sweetheart?” she says.
Charlie nods. He is all right. He has his mom, and his friends, and his city, Austin, where he is beloved, where Zilker Park waits for him, day or night, where he can enter the greenbelt along secret trails and see his best friends. He feels sorry for the man named Patrick, and he feels sorry for himself, but he’s OK.
On his ride home, Charlie thinks about the “rager” happening that night in Barton Hills. He pulls into his driveway. What a waste the whole day has been. His Oak Glen house is small and falling apart. His mom is trying so hard. Charlie texts her: CAN WE GET FREEBIRDS BURRITOS FOR DINNER?
She responds in seconds. YES! EXTRA GUACAMOLE?
He smiles. RICE KRISPIE TREATS?
DON’T PUSH IT, she writes, though he knows she’ll splurge on the Saran-wrapped, buttery dessert squares they have by the Freebirds cash register.
He types quickly: I LOVE YOU.
She sends back exploding hearts: Mom is getting advanced.
His phone rings: Amir. “Baby. Hey.”
“Hey,” says Charlie.
“I saw your TikTok.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I come get you after work?”
“Let’s just meet at the 7-Eleven, OK?”
There’s a brief pause, and Amir assents. “I want to tell you something,” he adds.
“What?” says Charlie.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” says Amir.
“That’s what you wanted to tell me?”
Amir laughs. “No,” he says. “I’m nervous to say it first.”
“What is it?” says Charlie, flirting, a smile lifting his lips. A sun grows inside Charlie’s stomach. He feels its heat and light spreading out to his fingers and toes, to his brain. Amir loves him, he thinks. And he loves Amir.
“I’ll tell you tonight,” says Amir.
-1-
KXAN Morning News
YOUR REAL NEWS—FIRST!
Good morning. I’m Denise Simon coming to you live from the Barton Hills neighborhood, where police have arrested a suspect in the murder of Lucy Masterson, a young woman whose lifeless body was found on a South Austin hiking trail just six days ago.