Page 20 of Perfect Day

Sean shook his head. “Hey, I’m sorry. My mom died when I was a kid too.”

Joshua nodded. He already knew that, of course. “It leaves a mark,” he said. “Something like that.”

“No kidding. I mean, I think it’s worse for Finn, though. I was too young, but Finn—Well, like you, I guess, our dad wasn’t exactly there for us, and Finn pretty much took it all on.” Sean shook his head, stuffed his hands into his pockets. “He was eight years old and felt like he had to look after me from that point on.”

Joshua’s chest tightened, even though he’d already heard Finn’s half of the story. It had been fresh then, just a couple months after his father’s death, and the emotions had been raw. Sometimes, Joshua wondered whether that was why their connection that summer had been so intense, so sudden and profound. Had they had just been cresting a wave of Finn’s grief together? “It’s a terrible burden for a child to bear,” he said at last. “For both of you.”

“For you too, right?”

Joshua acknowledged it with a nod and sipped his coffee, turning his gaze back to the window.

Sean sighed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, what Finn did was amazing. He—Without him, I don’t know where I’d be. Not here, that’s for sure. But, man, does it make him a douche sometimes.”

“It does?”

“We live on opposite coasts and hestilltries to micromanage my life. And not just mine—like, everyone around him too.” He huffed a laugh. “‘Sean,’” he said, in a passable impersonation of Finn’s gruff voice, “‘I hear it snowed in New York. You got your snow chains on?’”

Joshua couldn’t help smiling. “I can see why that would be irritating.”

“You have no idea,” Sean said with a grin. “But, actually, you might not escape. He was grumbling about the tread onyourtires the other day.”

“Mytires?” His heart gave a jolt, but luckily Sean misinterpreted his astonishment.

“Seriously, that’s what he’s like. You should get on that, too, or he’ll be riding your ass about it when he’s here for Thanksgiving.” He smiled, fonder. “I still think he likes cars better than acting, but I guess the pay’s not so good.”

Joshua nodded, trying not to react to the fact that Finn would be back for Thanksgiving. In just a couple of weeks.

“So, listen, I’ve got some work to do.” Sean nodded toward his laptop and a stack of files sitting on the kitchen table. “You just do what you need to, okay?”

Pulling his mind back into focus, Joshua nodded. “Thank you. I’ll just be a couple hours.”

To be walking around the house again was stranger than Joshua had admitted, and with Tejana back in New York the place was empty besides himself and Sean. And although it had been years since he’d lived here, everything still felt familiar. Echoes of his life reverberated all around him: Michael’s sharp laughter, often cruel, his father’s cold and weighty presence. Maya and her cookies. And Finn.

Always Finn.

He remembered the first time he’d stepped into the house, looking sheepish and out of place. Joshua had hated seeing him like that, as if Finn had anything to be ashamed of there. His father, down for the weekend, had called him “Callaghan” and given curt instructions about one of the cars. Finn had nodded,Yes sir, and all but tugged his forelock.

Joshua had left them to it, sickened in a way he only recognized later as dread. He’d known all along that his father would never approve of his relationship with Finn, for obvious homophobic reasons, but the way he’d looked at him that day—as somehow beneath him, less worthy of his respect—hurt in an unexpected way.

He’d known then that the only way to be with Finn would be to cast off his whole family. Maybe he would have done it too, if Ruth hadn’t intervened with her oh-so-reasonable warnings about what their relationship might do to Finn’s prospects.

Those memories crowded him as he climbed the sweeping staircase to the bedrooms to take photos of his mother’s dresser. He’d have liked to buy it himself, but the court wouldn’t allow any sale below market price. The dresser stood in what had been his mother’s room, but was now an empty guest room, and he trailed his fingers over the honey-colored wood and tried to conjure up the memory of her touch.

He didn’t remember her face, aside from in photos, but he could still remember the way she’d brush her fingers from the bridge of his nose up into his hair to soothe him at night. He remembered how she’d creep out of his room when she thought he was asleep, and how he’d let her go because he knew she was tired and sick and didn’t want to make it worse.

There was no trace of her in the room now, though, just a dusty disused scent. He took his pictures and left, closing the door behind him.

Downstairs he photographed a few paintings stacked up in the front drawing room. He didn’t blame Sean and Tejana for not wanting them; they were ugly, pretentious things. His father didn’t have an artistic bone in his body and he’d probably only bought them as an investment. Joshua cared nothing for any of them.

Everything else on the list was pretty generic and he tagged them with sticky colored spots so the clearance people would know what to take when they came.

That left two other items, both of which were painful in different ways. He had to brace himself for both: the cars, still in the garage, and the grand piano in the music room.

He decided to deal with the cars first. A little fresh air would clear his head and he only had happy memories of those cars and that garage.

The afternoon had turned into one of those glorious sunny autumn days, the fallen leaves crisp as they danced across the grass. His father would have had the leaf blowers out, but Joshua liked the way the leaves gathered at the edges of the lawn. It made the place look real—less like a garden and more like the countryside. The windows of the garage reflected the sunlight, glinting in cool imitation of those heated summer days when he’d escaped the stultifying silence of the house to practice his guitar, Finn humming along as he worked.

Oh, the ways they’d looked at each other before it all started! He smiled, felt a nostalgic pool of heat at the memory of all that banked tension, uncertain yet full of youthful hope. Those were the days indeed.

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