Page 90 of Best I Never Had

I turn back to her, looking away from my house. I nod.

“Hi, Hadey.” My aunt Rita greets me in the kitchen once her hands are finally free from rearranging several platters ready to be moved to the table in our formal dining room. “How you holding up?”

I nod an acknowledging nod. “Is Mom around?”

“She went into the basement to grab some tablecloths.”

I nod again, a new staple in my form of non-verbal communication. “Did you need help with anything?”

She looks down at the large spread. “Maybe just bring some of these out.” I reach for a large platter holding deviled eggs when she stops me. “Actually, can you grab the cooler from the garage? Pat brought in the ice so we could fill it.”

“Sure,” I answer, stepping away.

Natalia, who’s been hovering around me, steps in. “I can take these,” she says softly. Aunt Rita looks back at me, silently urging me for an introduction.

“Uh, this is my friend, Natalia.”

Natalia smiles at Aunt Rita by way of greeting her with her hands full.

“I’m Rita. Nice to meet you, sweetheart. Thank you for helping.”

“Of course,” Natalia answers before turning to walk to the dining room.

When Natalia is out of earshot, Aunt Rita turns to me. “Is she your girlfriend?” Her eyes bounce with expectancy at the first girl that I’ve ever brought home.

I tilt my head. “Really? Now?”

She smiles softly, her hand reaching to stroke my arm. “She’s pretty. And very sweet.”

I shake my head. “So the cooler?”

She nods. “I’ll keep an eye on your friend.”

I raise my brows before heading toward the door leading to our garage, only to get hit in the gut with everything that represents my dad. I flip the light switch next to the doorway. The fluorescent lights flicker on and are barely bright enough to light up the workstation in one corner. When I look to the other side, I see road signs and old license plates mounted on the wall next to a flat screen. A raggedy recliner faces it, right next to a small table with coasters stacked neatly in the middle.

Everything about this space, a room in this home meant to house a car, screams Greg Marshall. Football trophies from his high school heyday sitting on a shelf, Cleveland Browns memorabilia strategically placed next to them acting like a makeshift NFL shrine.

I walk to the recliner, not sitting in it but running my hands along the soft leather. I don’t want to taint this space that’ll serve as a last memory of my dad. I want to preserve it as long as I can. As if I can grasp the fading memory of him before it slips through my fingers, just like the unfinishedbusiness I had with him. All the plans I laid out since his phone call to make up for the last two years we lost, all misting into thin air.

“He got that chair at a garage sale over the summer.” When I look at the doorway, I see my mom’s sad face watching me. “He refused to pay thousands on a La-Z-Boy, so he dragged that onto his pickup and slumped it right there. He was going to move everything down to the basement once it got colder but…”

She walks toward me, folded tablecloths resting between her hands, before she stops next to me. She reaches up to squeeze my arm, moving her hand up to pat my shoulders.

“Come on, honey. You should eat something,” she whispers, her voice giving her away.

“Actually, I think I’m going to go lie down. If that’s okay.”

She nods, her downturned eyes looking at me with understanding.

36

Natalia

present

I returnto the kitchen once the last of the platters have been brought out. The kitchen island sits empty now aside from a few serving utensils and unopened soda bottles.

“Natalia, thank you so much for your help,” Hayden’s mom says softly from the other side.

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