The Secret of Ella and Micha

his hand.
    “You’re going to need to show me your ID, before you come in any further.” He drapes the cleaning rag over his shoulder and walks around the counter toward me.
    “It’s me, Denny,” I say. “Ella Daniels.”
    His eyes widen. “Holy shit. You’re back.”
    I nod. “I am, but only for the summer.”
    He rakes his hands through his curly brown hair. “Where were you anyway? No one really seemed to know.”
    “In Las Vegas, going to school.” I point at my father. “I should probably take him home, I’m guessing.”
    Denny glances back at my father. “He stumbled in here early this morning. I wasn’t even opened up yet, but he was already too drunk to understand when I tried to explain to him that we were closed.”
    “I’ll take him home,” I tell him and he lets me by. “I’m sorry he’s been so much trouble for you.”
    He drops the rag on the counter and helps me get my dad to his feet. He smells like he showered in a bottle of Jack Daniels.
    “I don’t mind him being here, Ella,” Denny says. “But I’m starting to feel guilty about it. For the last few months, he’s been showing up more and more. I think he might have a problem.”
    “He’s had one for a while.” I drape my dad’s arm over my shoulder and Denny does the same with his other arm.
    My dad mumbles an incoherent objection and then something about missing her and wanting it to all go away. We drag him outside and Lila hops out of the car. She doesn’t say anything as Denny and I lie my dad down in the back of the Firebird.
    It’s starting to sprinkle and lightning snaps across the sky.
    “Thanks for helping me get him out,” I tell Denny, shielding my eyes from the raindrops.
    Denny rubs his neck tensely. “Have you ever considered getting him some help?”
    “What do you mean? Like rehab?” I shout over the thunder.
    He shrugs. “Or AA. Something that will help him get his life together.”
    I scratch my head, confused. Why hadn’t it occurred to me? Panic starts to claw up my throat and guilty feelings about my mother’s death consume.
    “Just think about it,” Denny says, giving me a pat on the arm. “And if you need any help, you know where to find me.”
    I thank him again and jump into the car. I wait for Lila to say something, but when she opens her mouth, it’s not what I was expecting.
    “My older sister was a drug addict,” she says quickly. “For like a year.”
    I stop chewing on my gum. “I didn’t know that.”
    “I know. Not a lot of people do. My family is very firm on keeping our dirty laundry to ourselves.” She rotates in her chair to look at my dad snoring on the backseat. “But I wanted to tell you so that you know that I understand how hard it is to watch someone you care about hurt themselves.”
    I turn the car down my street and the tires splash puddles onto the hood as they hit the potholes. “Why did you never tell me before?”
    “Why didn’t you tell me about your dad?”
    “I don’t know.” Who is this girl sitting next to me? “So my life doesn’t scare you?”
    She arches her eyebrows and sits forward in her seat. “I wouldn’t go that far, but your personal life doesn’t.”
    ***
    There are three large Keggers on Micha’s back porch when we pull up to my house. The garage door is wide open and his car is missing. The rain is pouring down and flooding the sidewalk and the tree next to the house sways in the wind.
    “They must have got the car fixed,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt.
    “Dang it.” Lila smacks her hand on her knee and a smile expands across her face. “I was so looking forward to watching Ethan bent over the hood.”
    I snort a laugh. “Well, that wasn’t really my point,” I say when I stop laughing. “We somehow have to get him out of the car and into the house and I was going to have Micha help.”
    Lila and I turn toward the backseat, trying to figure out a way to get my dad out.
    “Maybe we could ask your brother?” Lila suggests.
    My eyes roam to the Porsche parked in front of us. “I’m not sure he’ll help even if we ask him.”
    “It doesn’t hurt to try.”
    “Yeah, you’re right.” I sigh and text Dean to come help. He doesn’t answer, but a few minutes later the back door swings open. Dean steps out, barefoot, with a hoodie pulled over his head. He doesn’t say anything when he swings the door open. Lila hops out of his way and he ducks inside the car and drags our father out. I scramble out of