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Bill parked his car and shivered. While the warm autumn breeze pumped in through his vents, it couldn’t cut the chill that was left after dropping Alice off at the roller rink. It was the last day of his every other weekend with Alice in Hatchetfield and they usually tried to have the last night to do something between them before going back to Clivesdale, a tradition held for the past 5 years since he and her mother separated. One that would be changing next year, as she graduated high school and moved on to college. And with her graduating, his ex-wife was thinking of moving, with the legal attachment ending, she hoped to go down to the lower peninsula, an idea she’s talked with Alice about for the past year but Bill only got let into last weekend.
But when he pulled up to the roller rink, his headlights caught Deb leaning near the entrance, staring down at her phone. The fact that Alice wouldn’t look him in the eyes told him it was a planned tryst.
Then it went like it usually did when they argued: Bill asked why Deb was there. Alice asked why Bill didn’t like Deb. Bill asked why Alice didn’t like him. Alice asked why it had to be all about him. Bill thinks he’s alluding to the fact that she’s growing up and he’s losing his little girl and it scares him that one day their relationship will be just as bad as his relationship with his mother. Alice does not catch this allusion and claims he is possessive and overbearing. Bill brings up the fact that isn’t the one moving away as soon as she’s an adult. Alice argues that living in the past makes it just as bad as running away. Bill gets heated. Alice gets heated. Bill says he’s disappointed. Alice leaves.
That’s how every argument goes these days, and that’s exactly how it happened at the roller rink. Alice said she didn’t want him to hang around with that sad look on his face and watch her and Deb like 12 year olds. Alice also said that if he wanted someone so devout to family traditions he should ask Grace Chasity to be his daughter.
Why did it always have to be Grace Chasity?
So he let her get out of the car, telling her quietly to call her when she’s done for a ride home. Alice waited a moment before telling him Deb would drive her home.
And now? Now Bill was parked outside of Fitzgerald’s, the bar furthest from the roller rink so as not to tempt him to wander back over. He ran a hand over his head trying to shake the thoughts of late nights out trying to avoid his wife before getting heading into the bar.
Fitzgerald’s was an old staple of Hatchetfield, one of the last family owned restaurants besides Retro’s that hasn’t been bought out by mainland corporations. The lights glowed a dim yellow and barely any chairs matched in wear. There were no booths, just tables and a bar where the Miller siblings served greasy food and poured from only Michigan beer taps. It was never full in Fitzgerald’s, most of the younger crowd wanting the inner city nightlife, Bill walked directly up to the bar and sat down heavily.
“Your fix?” Brighid, the elder sister asked over her shoulder.
”Coke with grenadine, please.” Bill sighed. There was a small part of him that hoped that the bartender would ask him about his mood, but he knew that wouldn’t happen, at least not with this sister. Brighid was quiet, logical, and often so blunt that you’d rather you hadn’t asked, so when she came back with his beer Bill didn’t blab like he would with Paul at work and just nodded in thanks.
The drink was sweet but sat a bit heavy in his stomach. He wanted something more bitter, but knew it wasn’t a good idea. Even just one felt like a mistake the next day, especially when Alice was over. It may have only looked like a small vice now, but it was a long road to get there. Back in college it was different. One drink turned into three. Once a weekend turned into Wednesday through Saturday. It took him years to get to a semblance of sobriety. Bill cut off the majority of his friends junior year of college as they enabled his problem.
It was a lonely climb out, and only once he was on stable ground did he find a partner who understood. Someone who stuck through and gave him a child that made it worthwhile to keep at it.
That is until all of his relationships started to fall apart.
He wondered what Alice and Deb were doing. We’re they actually skating? Or were they smoking pot outside in the back parking lot. Bill’s heard of the nefarious things that happen at the roller rink at night, minors drinking more than soda and unsanctioned betting games. He could only hope that Deb hasn’t gone further than the devil’s lettuce. Pot was the gateway drug after all. Bill heard the terrible stories of what happened once pot wasn’t enough. Next it was pills, then gambling, then cocaine and gangs, then selling organs over county lines and heroin.
But he knew Alice was a good girl. She would never get to that point, right? He thought he would be able to say that with certainty, but Bill wasn’t sure anymore. He wondered if he even knew his daughter anymore.
”Bill?”
He looked over his shoulder and openly grimaced. Sitting against the wall near the bathroom was Ted. Of all the people he would run into, did it have to be him? Bill couldn’t call Ted a friend, he barely wanted to acknowledge him as a co-worker, as that would mean there was a degree of separation. Ted was crass, loud, and nosey. Things that Bill didn’t like to be part of, but of course, there was no way to stop Ted from falling into the bar chair next to him.
”Bill, buddy.” Ted said with a casual smile. By the way he wobbled when realizing he didn’t have a back to his seat anymore, he knew Ted had to be a few in already. “Billiam, what are you doing here?”
Bill lifted his drink as an answer wondering if Ted could tell that he wasn’t drinking alcohol, because that’s exactly what he needed right then, an “intervention” about his own sobriety.
”Yes, my man. A good night to drink.” Ted raised his glass in camaraderie. At least he won that battle. “I didn’t think you’d be a Sunday night drinker Billford. I thought you and your daughter partied it up on Sundays.”
Bill furrowed his brow, he had mentioned at work his Sunday tradition at work but never with Ted. He never seemed to care about having a conversation that got to know his coworkers, Ted usually just wanted to quote movies and describe his latest conquests. “Yeah, usually,” he trailed, “but she’s spending tonight with her girlfriend.”
Ted snorted into his drink. “Hah! She’s about that age isn’t she?”
Bill pursed his lips. “What do you mean?”
“Teenagers, man. They love you but they think there’s a finite amount of love in the world and can’t fathom how she or others are supposed to spare what little they have.”
”I don’t spare my love for her like love’s a fad.” Bill retorted. “And I’m not crazy enough to think that she can't love anything else. I just wish… I wish growing up didn’t happen so fast.”
“And I wish that it was 2016 again, but time won’t stop for no man.” Ted sloshed his drink toward Bill, who tried and failed at avoiding the splash.
”Sorry if I don’t believe your philosophical meanderings, Ted, but being a father has a nuance that changes life stages. It’s not the same as growing old.”
Ted stared at Bill over the rim of his glass, sitting in the silence before leaning in. “You know I’m Pete’s legal guardian.”
Bill gave a start. “Your younger brother?”
Ted rolled his eyes. “It’s like you don’t listen. Yeah, my little brother. I took him when he was in 2nd grade. He’s 15 now and is a giant fucking nerd. But when I got him, it was rough for a minute.”
”2nd grade? You’re barely 30.”
”I took him a year or so after I finished college.” He shrugged. “Pete, he’s got these medical conditions that my parents didn’t really believe were serious concerns. And they believed that kids were to be seen and not heard and all that shit.” Ted rolled his glass in his hands, watching what was left of his beer clinging to the sides. “It was a delicate situation. But it’s better now.”
“Alice was in 2nd grade when her mother moved to Clivesdale.” Bill said easily. “There was a marked difference in both her grades and her confidence between 1st and 2nd. I didn’t think that a 7 year old could be stressed out until her first parent-teacher conference in Clivesdale elementary.” He stopped with his glass halfway to his lips. That wasn’t what he was originally going to say. Bill didn’t like thinking about the last year of his marriage, he barely talked to Paul about it. It made him feel pathetic, his sobriety was on and off and he barely recognized the things going on at home because as soon as he stepped inside there was an argument ready to be had. “I like to believe that us separating was for the best. But I’ve missed so much because of the custody arrangement, and now that she’s got a girlfriend, I’m losing what’s left to Deb.”
“Pete hated me when I first took him in. He hated that I left for college and didn’t visit, or that I wasn’t there at the hospital the first few times and only called. I didn’t know it was serious then. And I had my own life. I didn’t want my bad attitude about my parents tainting their relationship, because that’s all I could think about when they were around.
“When all the conversations spun around the fact that I wasn’t there and they were, about what went wrong, it only made more bad memories. It made a lot of our interactions sour at first.” Bill frowned, thinking of all the conversations he’s had with Alice since she started dating Deb. Whenever Alice brought up Deb, even fun things, Bill could only think about her leaving, just like her mother. And he never held his tongue. He spoke his mind, which before Alice thought was sincere and kind of funny ‘in an old man way’.
Was he too harsh on Deb? Or maybe he was too stuck in the past, worried about how that past is what his future will ultimately become.
Ted pushed on, not realizing Bill was having his own crisis next to him. “I had to remember that I was the adult now, that even though both of our lives were changing, I was his only stability and even when he argued that he didn’t like me he still wanted me around because the familiarity was better than being alone during all the change. Maybe it’s because I’m a meat head but I need the exact same shit and didn’t realize it until he was in middle school.”
”Alice seemed better since elementary school. It’s only gotten bad in the last year.” He paused, reminiscing on the timeline of events. “I thought…” He started, then stopped thinking it wasn’t important. Ted lolled his head towards him, blinking slowly as he waited for the rest of the sentence. “I thought it was Deb and this relationship pulling her away. But recently I found out Alice’s mother is thinking of moving after she graduates.”
”Bad enough she stayed in Clivesdale for that long, honestly.” Ted mumbled into his glass.
Bill nodded, “Alice talked about staying in Hatchetfield, going to community college to finish her pre-requisites before picking a university—”
”At least it isn’t Clivesdale Community.”
Bill put his head into his hands, ignoring Ted’s interjection. “I think I’m an idiot. And I cannot, absolutely cannot believe it’s you of all people that made me realize it.”
The other man is nodding with him before hissing out a rude word.
“Your brother,” Bill started slowly, “Pete. It’s better now, right?”
“I’d like to think so. Once I stopped talking around him and started talking to him. He realized that me taking him in wasn’t me doing it because I had to, but because I wanted to.” He gave a lopsided smile as he pulled up a picture from his phone of his brother. “He’s healthy and hasn’t been in the hospital for years now. He’s still a fucking nerd but he’s got friends who he likes to hang out with that isn’t transactional. And he’s embarrassed by me, yeah, but he still texts to tell me when he’s out late and I think it means I still got some space in his life.”
The picture was blurry, but Bill thought it was more because Ted was swaying a bit as he put the photo up between them. Bill could see the family resemblance, they shared a nose and eyes. Ted had a stronger jaw and Pete wore glasses that made his eyes nice and round. They both had a crooked smile that showed all their teeth and were both too skinny for Bill’s liking. Pete did look nerdy in a little bow tie and buttons all the way up the collar but there was a glint of mischief in the way he looked at the camera with the two other nerds in the picture that read familiarity and real enjoyment whatever they were doing at the moment that was captured.
”I took that after they won this math tournament. Don’t ask me any further. I sat through that whole thing and still didn’t know what the fuck they were saying by the end of it, but they got first and had fun. Only nerds would have fun in a middle school math tournament, am I right?”
Bill smiled fondly, he thought of Alice winning 2nd place in the national short story writing contest last year. She said it was a novella version of a play she wanted to write. Her picture and bio are still up on the Michigan Short Story webpage for 2017’s winners and Bill put up the news clipping in a nice frame that’s in his living room, even though it came from the Clivesdale newspaper.
She said he didn’t have to frame it since he was there the night of the awards, but he always liked seeing her fond smile when she passed it on her way to the kitchen.
”He’s in a robotics club now at school with the other nerds. Said I’d like those competitions way better because the robots will end up fighting.” Ted continued on as he tried to get his phone back into his pocket with only some semblance of coolness. “I’m just glad he invited me, even though we all know I have to drive them.” Bill chuckled, nodding at Ted who put all his weight onto the counter as he stood. “I better be heading back. I’m gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow and am gonna hear about from the nerd if I don’t get home before him.” Ted clapped his hand onto Bill’s shoulder heavily, almost knocking the glass out of his hand in surprise. “I’ll see you tomorrow Billward. Don’t have too much more fun.”
Bill watched as Ted left and walked into the neighborhood next to the bar. He sat for a moment trying to think if Ted was ever that sincere at work. But come to think of it, was Bill ever that sincere either? He can’t call complaining about his life authentic as much as Ted putting on that laissez faire air being the true him. Maybe they all were just trying to give off what they thought the others cared more about.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, Bill pulled it out and saw it was a text from Alice.
We’re leaving the roller rink. Can all three of us get ice cream then we go home?
Bill smiled as he texted her back. Be there soon. Love you.