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Nothing to See Here(59)

Author:Kevin Wilson

“Bessie?” I finally said. “Your dad seems like he fucked up, okay? But I think he wants to be a good person. And Madison is my friend. And I know that she is a good person. And Timothy, whatever, he’s just too little right now, but he’ll end up being fine. This is your family, okay? And I don’t know if you understand this, but your family is so rich. They are richer than anyone I’ve ever known in my entire life. They are richer than all the people I’ve ever known put together. This will be good for you. Whatever you want, they will try to give it to you. And that might not seem like such a big deal now, but you’ll be happy for it someday. When you really want something, you’ll be able to take it. If you stay with them. If you give Madison and your dad a chance.”

“I understand,” she said, but her eyes were so intense. I couldn’t look at her. I was talking to this spot on the ground.

“How much longer is summer?” she then asked.

“A long time,” I told her. “A really long time.”

That night, we walked out of our guesthouse and made our way to the mansion. Roland had some khakis on and a white dress shirt with a blue tie that had taken me seven tries to knot correctly, the mechanics all weird on a little kid. I’d clipped his hair pretty easily. Boys are easy with hair, you just keep it neat and nobody cares beyond that. I don’t know that I’d ever heard a straight man compliment another straight man’s hair in my entire life. Bessie had on a black floral summer dress, kind of grungy actually, quite cool. Roland looked like an intern at a bank, but Bessie looked like a girl at her mom’s third wedding. I’d buzzed the sides of her hair, left it floppy on top, and it didn’t make her pretty, but it accentuated her eyes, the wildness of her face. They both looked like wild kids in disguise, undercover, but that was good enough. All that Jasper probably wanted was an attempt at normalcy. That’s all Madison wanted, I was sure. She’d never want them to lose their actual weirdness. The fire, yes, okay, she wanted that gone, but what was underneath that. She’d appreciate it. I knew she would.

I had brushed on a thin layer of the stunt gel, though it was hard to get the amount right. I was worried about the mess it would make, the kids’ clothing, the chairs in the dining room, but whatever. I knew that the moment they saw Jasper, I’d be relieved that I’d put the goop on them.

Madison, always Madison, like a spokesperson for the rest of the world, all the good things contained in it, welcomed us at the back door. “Oh,” Madison said, looking at the children, “you two look wonderful. So grown-up!”

She then looked at me, my fucked-up face with bruises and scratches. “Oh god,” she said, not able to hide her surprise. She hadn’t seen me since she’d put that elbow in my face. “You know, I have makeup that would . . . I don’t know, Lillian. That’s bad.”

“It’s fine,” I said.

“Lillian’s tough,” Roland said proudly.

“She’s the toughest person I know,” Madison replied. “But I wish she didn’t have to be so tough all the time.”

I thought, Then maybe you didn’t have to become a psycho in a one-on-one game in front of children, but I let it go. I breathed deeply.

And then, five seconds later, there was Jasper. “Hello, children,” he said, and this time he seemed more put together, more charming. No seersucker, thank god. Seersucker was for fucking dolts. He smiled at them. “I know this is hard for you guys,” he continued, the shyness adding to the charm, the way he looked at them like he was counting on their votes. “But I’ve been really looking forward to this. And I won’t ask for a hug right now, but sometime, when you’re ready, I’ve been thinking about giving you guys a hug and telling you that I’m happy that you’re here.”

The kids just nodded, maybe a little embarrassed. Madison touched Jasper and smiled at him, nodded her approval.

“Who’s hungry?” Madison asked.

“I’m hungry,” I said, answering for all of us, and we walked into the dining room.

Timothy was already there, his hands clasped together on the table like he was ready to pray or like he was your boss and was really sorry but he was going to have to fire you. The more I saw of Timothy, his formality and robotic qualities, the more I liked him.

One time, I’d asked Madison about Timothy’s—how do you phrase it politely?—eccentricities, and she’d nodded, like, yes, yes, she knew.

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