Chapter 15

“You two come out here much?” Ryan/Dad asks, readjusting his backpack. On Friday he messaged Saff and me, suggesting we hike from the beach up to the Bluffs this weekend.

His current housesitting gig includes the care, exercise, and entertainment of three dogs—a chocolate Lab, an English cocker spaniel, and a dachshund—one for each of us to walk. The owner travels extensively and pays extra when Ryan takes them on day trips. We’ve been walking for an hour, and Ryan’s already taken several photos of the dogs and texted them to the owner. Seems silly to me, but whatever.

Saff shoots me a look. Once, in a misguided attempt at sisterly bonding, I told her about Axel’s and my bucket list—big mistake. Instead of considering it uber cool, she marked it as more evidence of my irresponsibility.

I’m in no hurry to mention that Axel and I jump off these cliffs. I probably wouldn’t hesitate if Ryan was still my step-uncle, but now that he’s something else, I’d prefer not to tell him. “We like to swim here,” I answer, settling on a half-truth. “I’m not, uh, normally up for cardiovascular activity.” More accurately, I only tolerate cardiovascular activity for a goal. Like climbing the cliffs to jump. Not walking for the sake of walking.

“Cayenne makes laziness an art form,” Saff explains. She’s wrapped the dachshund’s leash around her wrist several times, and her hand is turning a deep shade of pink. “Although you probably already know that.”

“Sounds familiar. I think you inherited that from me,” Ryan says. I can hardly keep from gagging—resembling Ryan is the last thing I want. He tugs on the Lab’s leash and adds under his breath, “Your mom was not that way.”

“Can we talk about her?” Saff asks, tugging at her dog. He’s buried his nose deep into some bushes, investigating. “Or does that make you uncomfortable?”

Ryan turns to Saff, studying her, maybe thinking about how he wants to respond. “Yes . . . and yes.” He whistles, low, and Saff’s dog scampers toward him, yanking on Saff’s wrist. “I don’t like talking about her, or thinking about her, really.” He kneels and ruffles the dog’s fur. “But we can,” he says, straightening up. “We probably should.”

“It’s just . . . that I don’t really remember her.” Saff carefully unwinds the leash from around her wrist and shakes her hand out. “I’ve got the video diary, and the journal, and photos around the house, but I don’t have clear memories of her.”

Ryan looks up from the dog. “Jenny was great.”

“Can you be more descriptive?” Saff asks, flexing and unflexing her fingers. She doesn’t seem angry, though I know she wrote that she was in her journal entry. She seems more curious than anything. Maybe she’s over it. Or maybe she’s ambivalent, like me.

“Really great. Stupendous. Best woman I ever met.”

Saff considers this and then says, “Maybe more specific?”

“I’m no good with words. I don’t know . . . She was a rock star. Super smart, motivated, fun. Beautiful. That woman did more in her thirty-one years than most people do in sixty.” Ryan finds a large smooth rock and hauls his backpack on top of it. He unzips it, and I peek inside. He’s crammed the backpack with water bottles and small containers of nuts, granola, and dried fruit. “Hungry?” Ryan asks, maybe to change the topic.

“Starving,” I respond, definitely to change the topic. “Anyone mind if I steal all the dried apricots? I’ll leave the raisins as compensation.”

Saff ignores me. “You must have loved her.”

Ryan kind of freezes, his hand in midair, going for the granola. He scoops a handful of it into his mouth, and then mumbles with his mouth half-full, “I’m no good at this kind of conversation.”

“But we have to have it. Dad.” Now I do hear the anger in her voice. Doesn’t she know when to lay off? Clearly Ryan’s struggling with this.

“We actually don’t have to talk about this stuff. We can just hike and ingest granola. It’s okay,” I tell him.

“No. Saffron’s right. It’s just—I’m not used to—” Ryan breaks off, his words garbled because of the handful of granola between his cheek and teeth. “Shit. This is hard for me.”

I silently second that.

Saff is not so silent. “We could talk about horse crap every time we walk, there sure is a lot of it up here. But I’ve missed almost eighteen years of having a father. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Ryan swallows his mouthful of granola, grimacing, as though he hasn’t chewed it enough first and it hurts going down. “Yes. I loved her.” He runs a hand through his hair, leaving tiny speckles of granola. “But I didn’t deserve her.”

Saff finds a seat on a rock and I perch on another one. Ryan stands, facing us, but up on the rock, we’re taller than him. Neither of us speak, just wait for Ryan to go on. “She hung out with me, but it was more like a gift, like charity, and I knew it. She didn’t want anything more.”

Hearing this makes me sad.

Ryan twists away from us to stare at the horizon, and both Saff and I reposition ourselves so that we can hear him. “The less she needed me, the more I adored her. And it’s not like I had many other people in my life.”

A stream of ants crawl along the rock, searching for sustenance. Ants have a purpose. They know their path instinctively. Ants don’t bother with college apps, soul searching or reconnecting with long-lost parents.

“I let her down over and over again.” Ryan turns back toward us, and his eyes are full. I absolutely one hundred percent do not want to see this man cry. “And I let you both down over and over again.”

“Okay, so I get why she didn’t want you on the birth certificate. But once she found out she was dying, wasn’t that like a game changer?” Saff presses.

“Not for her.” Ryan’s eyes dry up, the liquid evaporating so quickly that I wonder if it was ever really there. There’s low-grade frustration in his tone. Suddenly I wonder if he resents Mom for limiting him in this way. For not trusting him. For not thinking that an imperfect father was better than no father at all.

“What about for you?” Saff shifts impatiently on the rock. “What about for us?”

“Listen. I’ve never been a guy who could get anything done without directions. Not putting something together, not finding a restaurant, nothing. There were no directions for being a dad.” The emotion retreats. “The idea of that, of being alone and in charge, it terrified me. Plus I couldn’t stay clean. I tried.” He tosses more granola into his mouth, as if giving up on himself.

“How hard?”

“It’s more complicated than just willpower. It’s a disease.” Ryan crunches the granola and stands his ground. “And you were in good hands.”

“Tee was nineteen!” Saff’s eyes catch hold of me like a fish hook, and some of the accusation pierces me, as if I should be jumping in to help her. But I only want to run away from this conversation. Why is she pushing him so hard?

“I did try, you know. I was depressed and mad at myself for being incapable. I told myself that once I got clean for good, I’d request a paternity test and then I could take you back.” He pauses and swallows. “But by the time I got my act together, Luke had stepped in to help Tee, and I thought maybe you were better off.”

“That’s a cop-out.”

“Maybe.” Ryan shrugs. “But it’s also what your mom wanted.”

“That’s a cop-out too.” Saff hops off the rock, like she can’t stand to sit any longer.

“She was the kind of lady who never needed directions for anything,” says Ryan. “She just knew. Irritatingly, she was always right.”

“Says who?” Saff steps into Ryan’s space. “I’m not buying this whole conspiracy we know better than you shit. Maybe she wasn’t right.” Wow. If I wasn’t so uncomfortable, I’d be impressed with Saffron’s gumption. “You could have stepped up. You should have stepped up!”

Ryan studies her. This might be the first time he’s looked her in the eye so far. “You may not remember, but early on I used to take you both out for lunch on Saturdays, but you were always missing Tee, and counting the minutes until you could go back. I guess I felt inadequate and so I . . . I just stopped trying so hard.” He breaks eye contact and fiddles with the leash. “You don’t have to accept me as your father now. But I’m offering.” He backs away from her, his voice constricted. “I’m gonna take a break. I’ll be back in a few.” He and the Lab climb up toward Mesa Ridge, stepping out of earshot.

Saff turns to me, her cheeks roasting red, like she might burst open any second. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why didn’t you chill out?” I shoot right back at her. “What are you trying to do, push him into a relapse?”

“That’s not fair, Cay. You’re suggesting that if I call the guy out on his shit, I’m going to make him fall apart?”

“Basically.”

“That’s exactly the kind of thinking that got him in this mess. He’s capable of owning his decisions. Mom clearly thought he was a total loser. The Chowders expect nothing from him. And we’ve bought into the idea of Ryan-the-Reject for years. I refuse to believe that anymore.”

“Believe what you want. But I don’t get the point of getting so carried away. I say we just see what happens. Either he’ll pull it together or he won’t. It doesn’t matter what he says right now with you screaming in his face, it matters what he does.” I climb down off the rock. “Sheesh, Saffron. I’m supposed to be the hot tempered one, not you.”

She shakes it off, walking around the landing, rubbing the dachshund behind the ears. Ryan wanders over to us after about twenty minutes. He’s quiet. On the way back to the beach, we don’t say much, and when we do, it’s all horse-poo caliber small talk.