Jennifer had wanted to accompany Nate to scatter Jim’s ashes, but Nate respectfully declined. He actually used those words: “Thanks, Jen, I appreciate it but … I respectfully decline.” They may have sounded like they were coming out of someone else’s mouth, someone a bit more arch than Nate, but they seemed appropriate and, well, respectful. He never wanted to offend Jen—nor she, him—even though they did plenty of that when they broke up shortly after New Year’s. They’d both said things then that they now regretted—probably regretted them at the time—but they’d made the mistake of holding back so much for so long that when it finally came out it was excessive and wrongheaded.
At the heart of their problem was that, after almost two years together, Nate had been unable to commit to the next step with her. It was something she’d been aiming for once she realized they were truly good together. That if they weren’t madly in love, they did seriously love each other, felt safe and protected around each other, two things neither could unequivocally say about their exes. But Jennifer was too prideful—or maybe insecure—to simply lay out a plan for her boyfriend, expecting he would eventually make some kind of offer: if not marriage, then at least cohabitation.
But Nate wasn’t ready: emotionally, financially and, he feared, romantically. What if there was someone better out there for him—or he for them—and he was being held back from finding that person? Then again, he would ask himself in his quietest moments, what more did he want from a woman? Who did he think he was to even ask that? He was crazy lucky that Jen said yes to that first date to begin with, after their chance meeting at a popular Silver Lake dive bar. Not to mention that she kept saying yes to him until they woke up together one morning a month or so in, made coffee and smoothies and avocado toast, and realized they were a couple. Nate remembered thinking during that breakfast how he wanted to freeze the moment, never leave it; it was so idyllic. And in a way that’s what he did. It soon became a matter of “If it ain’t broke, why break it?” and, for a while, it seemed—at least to Nate—as if Jennifer was on that same wavelength. It was easy, comforting, sexy, and Nate felt better about himself than he had in ages.
That was certainly because of Jennifer, but also because his landscaping business was taking off after building it up to the point that, thanks to great word-of-mouth, jobs not only came to him but he was always booked out at least one or two gigs ahead. He was able to bring on a full-time co-worker, the talented, resourceful, and eternally chipper Danny Soto, who was magically able to round up a work crew anytime, anywhere. Danny’s adorable wife, Alicia, a quick-witted accountant, managed Nate’s billing and helped keep his finances and taxes in order. That is, when she wasn’t busy tending to her and Danny’s rambunctious two-year-old, Raffi. Danny had become as much a partner as a best friend. Nate felt almost fraternal toward him, like a not-much-older brother—even if the younger Danny, already a dad, husband, and homeowner, was in some ways the more stabilizing influence.
Jennifer did, however, convince Nate to hold a small lunch gathering in Jim’s honor that Sunday, the day after the ash scattering, and Nate hesitantly agreed. (And there was their dynamic in a nutshell: when he held back, she pushed forward—and vice versa. It was an inspiring, often empowering balancing act, until all movement stalled.) Jim had specifically said “no parties or memorials,” perhaps because he didn’t want to burden Nate with any more emotional—or financial—expenditure. But Nate knew that so many of Jim’s Occidental friends, students, and fellow profs wanted to pay their respects, so it seemed like a fitting coda. Nate lined up a reasonable caterer (Jen forbid him to go the Costco route), sent a mass email invite to Jim’s contacts, and, the morning of the memorial, after not much sleep the night before (thanks, Joan Didion!), went and straightened up his father’s home to make it presentable.
It was the first time Nate had been alone in the house for more than a few minutes since Jim died and it felt weird, even invasive, to be organizing or discarding so much of his dad’s belongings, things that suddenly belonged to, well, no one. Sure, in truth, Jim’s stuff was now Nate’s to do with as he pleased—whatever made the most sense. Even stranger, the whole house was now Nate’s, at least after Jim’s lawyer drew up the deed transfer and whatever else would make it legal and binding. It hit Nate that, not only would he be moving back into the house where he lived as a kid for so many years—where he kissed his first girl, where his father had died—but that he hadn’t yet made plans to move out of the boxy one-bedroom apartment he’d been renting in North Hollywood for longer than he ever expected. He’d been on automatic pilot these last weeks without even realizing it.
For a guy who had a definite style, a certain je ne sais quoi, Jim was never much in the decorating department. So, Nate realized, as he vacuumed faded rugs, plumped shrunken pillows, and dusted scratched tabletops and bookshelves, that he owed it to his dad—and to himself—to get the old house, with its good bones and deep history (built in 1923!), back up to speed. Not that Nate was so great either in the indoor aesthetics department—unlike his landscaper’s measured eye for outdoor beauty, his apartment had remained largely utilitarian, more dedicated to Cody’s comfort than to his own. In any case, Nate had his work cut out for him, on so many fronts.
“Thanks for being here,” said Nate to Jennifer after she wound her way through the guest-packed living room to reach him. They shared a gentle, awkward hug. It was the first time they’d seen each other in a month, since Jennifer had stopped by one Saturday to visit Jim. Since then, their interactions were all by phone or text—and all related to Jim. Nate wasn’t quite prepared to see her even though he knew she’d be there. After all, the lunch was her idea. She wore a sleeveless print summer dress that showed off her toned arms and dancer’s legs.
“Nate, I thought the world of your father, you know that,” Jennifer said, sweeping a few stray strands of longish, chestnut brown hair off her face. In the past, Nate might have been the one to do that for her—as he would lean in for a kiss. But not anymore.
Nate said, “I meant, thanks for being here for me.” Jennifer nodded, half-smiling. Just as Nate was about to fill in the silence, a trio of Occidental profs converged on Nate, plates of braised mustard chicken and Caesar salad in hand.
“Your father was a wonderful teacher and a truly fine man,” said the first. Nate thought her name was Penny but realized he might have been confusing her with someone else.
“Occidental’s lost a great one. The English department won’t be the same without him,” added the second. This was India, a trans woman who Nate hadn’t seen since she was Ian.
“He talked about you all the time, Nate, you meant everything to him,” said the third prof, resting a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “I hope you know that.”
“I do, Tomás, thank you,” answered Nate. Tomás taught creative writing and Medieval Lit. He and Jim were occasional drinking buddies. Nate had joined them once or twice what seemed like a lifetime ago.
The three gazed at Nate with empathy but it read like pity and made Nate squirm. “Thanks so much for coming,” he finally told the well-meaning educators and gestured in the direction of the backyard. “I have to go check on my dog, I think I hear him barking at something.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jennifer offered, knowing that barking or not, Nate needed to escape. She turned to the professors. “I’m Jennifer, by the way, Nate’s … friend. Jim’s too.” They all exchanged solemn nods. Jennifer followed Nate to the kitchen and out to the quiet yard where Cody was sprawled on what was left of the grass, happily gnawing on a grungy rawhide bone. He bolted up to greet them, tail thwacking away.
Jennifer eyed Nate. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I guess. Not really, I don’t know.” He chucked the old bone across the yard and Cody raced after it. “Anyway,” Nate continued, “it’s nothing to worry about.”
Nate vacantly watched Cody snap the bone up off the ground and hustle it back to them. “Y’know, just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you,” Jennifer said as Cody dropped the slobbery toy at her feet.
It wasn’t that Nate didn’t believe her, but hearing it out loud like that fucked him up a little. He let the comment go, indicating Cody’s bone instead. “He wants you to throw it,” Nate said, a small grin spreading across his face. He knew how she felt about drool. She was a bit of a clean freak.
“Yeah, I know the drill,” she said, gingerly reaching for the bone and tossing the gloppy thing a few feet. It was so endearing Nate had to look away. Cody dove for it like she’d thrown it a mile.
“Of anyone I ever dated, Dad liked you the best,” Nate told her. “Always joked that if I didn’t marry you, he would.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Nate wanted to cram them back in. The “m” word. Jesus! He could feel the sweat begin to pool beneath his light blue button-down.
Jennifer let the awkward moment slide and sat on a rickety teak bench that looked like it might collapse under her. “It’s too bad he never remarried,” she said. “Your dad was a catch.”
“He never got over my mom. Said he was a one-woman man.” Nate thought about sitting next to Jen—he was suddenly so tired—but kept standing. Cody had lost interest in the bone and was sacked out in some weeds.
“She was the love of his life. I get it,” said Jennifer, looking away from Nate at a pomegranate tree that still, remarkably, bore fruit. It was big and ancient and thrived on neglect.
Nate gave in and sat next to Jennifer, daring the bench to hold together for two adult bodies. It did. “And yet, to be honest,” he said, “Dad never talked much about her. Their life together, how he felt when she died. In his way, he was kind of a private guy.”
“Like father, like son.” Jennifer turned to Nate, shoulders slumped, an unmistakable look of contrition on her face. “I’m sorry … I didn’t mean it that way.”
But Nate knew that she did and he deserved it. Maybe not at this very moment, but still. He looked back at his ex-girlfriend, at her gentle, uncomplicated beauty, and chose to say nothing.