Fall With Me

to the kids and they adore him. But it is not the way I envisioned this summer going. This is the one solace I had, dependable in its total predictability, and now that’s completely gone to hell.
    I decide to clean the entire kitchen. While they’re out there eating dessert, I sweep and mop the floors, clean out the fridge, scrub the sink. It feels good to have something to pour all this energy into and I’m so focused on what I’m doing that I don’t realize he’s come into the kitchen until he clears his throat and says, “Hey.”
    I stop scrubbing and brush my hair back from my face.
    He sets his plate on the clean counter. “You really shamed me back there, you know. About the lion hunting.”
    I can’t tell if he’s joking or not; his expression is difficult to read.
    “It wasn’t my idea,” he continues. “It’s something my father wanted to do. He thought it would be a good father-son bonding experience or something. The African Serengeti is totally the place I’d choose for something like that.”
    “Well, your dad sounds like a real gem.”
    Griffin smiles. “Oh, he is. You have no idea. Except when it came down to actually taking the shot, he couldn’t do it.”
    “So is that supposed to make it better?”
    “I’m not saying that. But, yes, maybe. Seeing as I wasn’t the one who actually did it.” He reaches across me and turns the water on, runs his plate under the faucet. His arm touches mine and I take a step back.
    “Look,” he says. “I wanted to tell you—”
    “Unless you’re telling me you’re leaving, there’s really nothing to say,” I snap.
    Something that might be a hurt look crosses his face. I try not to roll my eyes.
    “I don’t know what I did to make you decide I’m this terrible person, but—”
    “You showing up here was enough. I’ve had an incredibly shitty year and I figured the one thing I could count on was coming back to my summer job—the same summer job I’ve had for years now—and knowing that at least this would be the same as it’s always been, that at least I had that to look forward to. But no, I don’t even have that, because you show up—claiming you were fucking kidnapped, which is the biggest load of shit, by the way.”
    He holds up his hands. “Look, sweetheart—is it because you feel like I’m stealing the spotlight from you or something? Because that’s really not what I’m trying to do at all. Allison said you were—”
    I laugh. “Allison knows nothing about me. And I don’t care about this proverbial spotlight , I just want things to go back to how they used to be.” I say the last part of this sentence in a shaky voice, and I’m mortified to feel tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
    He looks at me, confused. “Are you okay?”
    But I don’t answer. I turn and leave the kitchen, refusing to let him or anyone else see me cry. A sob rises up in my throat that I try valiantly to keep from surfacing but it’s too late, and I’m probably not out of earshot when I burst into tears.
    I actually go and cry on my bed for a good five minutes. Finally, I stop, a few residual hiccups left over.
    Get a grip, I tell myself. I sit up, my face soggy. This is pathetic. It doesn’t have to ruin my summer, it doesn’t have to do anything. Griffin is here, and most likely, Allison will keep him preoccupied the whole time. End of the fucking problem.
     

Chapter 9: Griffin
                 
    I’ve got to admit that it’s nice not having anything.
    I haven’t run through an official inventory yet, but somewhere between here and Koh Phangan is my North Face rucksack with my passport, my iPhone, a wallet containing ID, debit card, cash, the keys to my apartment in Tribeca. Also clothes, a pair of Gucci sunglasses, a bottle of Clive Christian No. 1. Perhaps all that stuff is floating in the Great Pacific garbage patch, or maybe it’s been sold on the black market and some kid in Bangkok is rocking my sunglasses and two thousand dollar bottle of cologne.
    But it’s nice, basically being stranded here at this horse ranch in Northern Cali. For the first time in a long time I really feel like I’m taking a break. Like this is something different, a change of pace. I find myself actually looking forward to getting up early. You’d think, then, that I’d wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardize this pastoral existence I’ve somehow stumbled into, but I decide it’s time to call my father. Allison lets me