The Circle

driveway, and this sent her into a mental bramble. She
     didn’t want him here. It complicated an already gory scene.
    She opened the door and saw not her parents, but Mercer’s giant shapeless form. He
     was standing in the foyer. Every time she saw him again after time apart she was jarred
     by how big he was, how lumpy. His hair was longer now, adding to his mass. His head
     blocked all light.
    “Heard your car,” he said. He had a pear in his hand.
    “Why are you here?” she asked.
    “They called me to help,” he said.
    “Dad?” She rushed past Mercer and into the living room. There,her father was resting, lengthwise, on the couch, watching baseball on the television.
    He didn’t turn his head, but looked her way. “Hey hon. Heard you out there.”
    Mae sat on the coffee table and held his hand. “You okay?”
    “I am. Just a scare, really. It started strong but petered out.” Almost imperceptibly,
     he was inching his head forward, to see around her.
    “Are you trying to watch the game?”
    “Ninth inning,” he said.
    Mae moved out of the way. Her mother entered the room. “We called Mercer to help get
     your father into the car.”
    “I didn’t want the ambulance,” her father said, still watching the game.
    “So was it a seizure?” Mae asked.
    “They’re not sure,” Mercer said from the kitchen.
    “Can I hear the answer from my own parents?” Mae called out.
    “Mercer was a lifesaver,” her father said.
    “Why didn’t you call me to say it wasn’t so serious?” Mae asked.
    “It
was
serious,” her mother said. “That’s when I called.”
    “But now he’s watching baseball.”
    “It’s not as serious now,” her mother said, “but for a while there, we really didn’t
     know what was happening. So we called Mercer.”
    “He saved my life.”
    “I don’t think Mercer saved your life, Dad.”
    “I don’t mean that I was dying. But you know how I hate the whole circus with the
     EMTs and the sirens, and the neighbors knowing.We just called Mercer, he got here in five minutes, helped get me to the car, into
     the hospital, and that was that. It made all the difference.”
    Mae fumed. She’d driven two hours in a red panic to find her father relaxing on the
     couch, watching baseball. She’d driven two hours to find her ex in her home, anointed
     the hero of the family. And what was she? She was somehow negligent. She was superfluous.
     It reminded her of so many of the things she didn’t like about Mercer. He liked to
     be considered kind, but he made sure everyone knew it, and that drove Mae mad, always
     having to hear about his kindness, his straight-upness, his reliability, his boundless
     empathy. But with her he’d been diffident, moody, unavailable too many times she needed
     him.
    “You want some chicken? Mercer brought some,” her mother said, and Mae decided that
     was a good cue to use her bathroom for a few minutes or ten.
    “I’m gonna clean up,” she said, and went upstairs.
    Later, after they’d all eaten, and recounted the day, explaining how her father’s
     vision had diminished to an alarming state, and the numbness in his hands had worsened—symptoms
     the doctors said were normal and treatable, or at least addressable—and after her
     parents had gone to bed, Mae and Mercer sat in the backyard, the heat still coming
     off the grass, the trees, the rain-washed grey fences that surrounded them.
    “Thanks for helping,” she said.
    “It was easy. Vinnie’s lighter than he used to be.”
    Mae didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t want her father to be lighter, easily
     carried. She changed the subject.
    “How’s business?”
    “Really good. Really good. I actually had to take on an apprentice last week. Isn’t
     that cool? I have an apprentice. And your job? Great?”
    Mae was taken aback. Mercer was rarely so ebullient.
    “It
is
great,” she said.
    “Good. Good to hear. I was hoping it’d work out. So you’re doing what, programming
     or something?”
    “I’m in CE. Customer Experience. I deal with the advertisers right now. Wait. I saw
     something about your stuff the other day. I looked you up and there was this comment
     about someone getting something shipped damaged? They were so pissed. I’m assuming
     you saw that.”
    Mercer exhaled theatrically. “I didn’t.” His face had gone sour.
    “Don’t worry,” she said. “It was just some nutjob.”
    “And now it’s in my head.”
    “Don’t blame me. I