Page 30 of Paper Ghosts

Tug’s only true requirement of Bailey was dinner and conversation on whatever topic she chose every night. That was fine with her, because Mim liked having meals alone. Weekly tea was a decent schedule for sharing big things, but it was a long time to bottle up ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, so she liked talking to her dad about them. And at this point in her life, on the cusp of adulthood, it was nice to be around someone who accepted every version of her, someone who only wanted her to be happy.

But that year Tug had begun pushing for Bailey to consider college, and it turned dinner from something benign into a dreaded, exhausting affair for everyone involved. Once, after one of their many arguments about it, Bailey got up and left the table without finishing her meal, frustrated that he was making this so hard. He never made things hard. She didn’t want to go to college. She didn’t want to leave and try to figure out who she was all over again. This was her home. And Mim didn’t go to college.

She had just walked up the stairs and rounded the corner to her room when she heard a crash, which sounded like a plate breaking. She pivoted and went back to the staircase in time to see her dad stride through the foyer toward the sunroom, throwing his blond hair off his forehead with an angry flick of his head.

She went back down the stairs, stopping to glance into the dining room. Tug’s plate had been thrown across the room and was lying in shattered pieces on the floor. The lonely presence of the house was whirling around the table as if concerned.

She was stunned. Her dad had never lost his temper before. She suddenly heard raised voices coming from the sunroom, and walked down the hall to put her ear to the door.

“Are you doing this?” Tug demanded. “Are you encouraging her not to go to college?”

“Of course not. My grandmother refused to let me go to college. You may not believe this, but I’m trying very hard to not make the same mistakes.”

“What’s the plan, then? You’re just going to let her grow moldy in this house with you? What is she going to do for a living? She can’t live on her mother’s life insurance policy, no matter how well I invested it.”

“She has some interesting ideas about creating an influencer account to promote tourism here.”

Her dad scoffed at that, which stung. She’d mentioned it to him, too, and he hadn’t reacted that way.

“I told her that the chamber of commerce would be glad to have her help,” Mim said.

“So you are encouraging her.”

“No. I’ve done everything I can to make sure she knows the limitations of being a Wester in this town. I’ve also made sure she’s experienced the outside world. If she wants to stay, I will be glad for her to.” Bailey smiled at that. She would be glad for her to. “But if she wants to go, it’s entirely her choice.”

“When I was Bailey’s age, you told me when I graduated high school I needed to make my own way in the world, far from here, far from you. What’s different with Bailey? Why give her a choice you never gave me?”

This was the first Bailey had ever heard of this. She’d always assumed it was her dad’s decision to leave, based on the obvious lack of pleasure he took in coming back.

“You weren’t happy here, Tug. That’s the difference. And you cannot disagree with that. You only came back home because you were in crisis. And your exact words to me back then were, if anything happened to you, Bailey needed a place to live.”

“I was in a dark place before I arrived,” he said, his voice so low Bailey barely heard him. “But I promised her I would be a better father, and I have been. Which is why I’m concerned, and I don’t understand why you’re not. She doesn’t socialize. She doesn’t date. She’s not happy. She’s trying to make you happy.”

Until that very moment, Bailey had never felt guilty about loving this place even though she knew her dad didn’t. She focused so hard on pleasing Mim, but expected sacrifice and understanding from him, as if he didn’t deserve any better. But he did. He was the best person she knew, and the only reason people had anything nice to say about the Westers.

Later, she walked to the kitchen, pretending she didn’t notice the stain his thrown food had made on the dining room wallpaper. “Okay,” she said as he washed dishes in the sink. “I’ll apply to a few schools. But it’s not going to make any difference.”

He immediately hugged her, his hands still soapy. “Thank you, sweetheart. You won’t regret it. We’ll tour some schools on your breaks, and you’ll see how wonderful it will be.”

So she sent out perfectly pointless applications, and then pretended to be happy to tour the schools, pretended to now love everything outside of Hen Town her dad did, because she thought she owed him. It left her feeling even lonelier, now that there was no one she could simply be herself around, except maybe the presence in the house. It stayed in her room with her as she read romances and listened to the Andy Smooth and the Silks album she’d downloaded, which became the soundtrack to her year.

She ended up with two acceptances—to NC State and Western Carolina—but she didn’t take any action with them. Her dad eventually stopped pushing, and she was relieved they were all finally on the same page. There were no big decisions left to make. Her life was laid out in front of her like freshly ironed clothes. But as the end of the school year approached, she was unprepared for how jarring the realization was that when high school ended, so would the only social system she knew. She fully expected her dad to leave once she graduated. And when he was gone, there would only be Mim and her carefully conditioned affection. Bailey hated her heart for wanting more, but she did.

She wanted what Mim had in that Polaroid.

On the last day for seniors, when the cafeteria as a whole was louder than normal, she turned up “Everywhere Girl” on her phone, trying to distract herself from everyone else’s happiness, trying to pretend she didn’t care. Sometimes she wanted to talk to Mim about Andy Smooth, about love and dreams and being the same age as she was when she’d had to make such big life decisions, but she knew better. Mim had kept his record album and photo away from where anyone else could find them, which meant she wanted to keep him private.

But Bailey had researched him with the intensity of being tested on it later. There wasn’t much on him before he left Hen Town and made it big, just that he was the high school band teacher here. The year he left, Mim was just a little girl, so they wouldn’t have had a connection back then, only when he came back to play once. There was a whole slew of information about his later life that Bailey didn’t find very interesting—his many marriages, his stints in rehab, his attempt to revive his career with a reunion tour in the ’80s. Wikipedia listed no less than twenty revolving members of the Silks over the years, saying it was incomplete because members would get paid under the table. One had even disappeared on the road.

She was breaking her Sun Chips into tiny pieces, listening to Andy Smooth sing about the stars overhead making their evening debut, when she happened to look up. Clutch Vallow was staring at her the way he usually did, from that empty corner he liked to sit in. She was used to him by now, his focused attention. Today, he didn’t look any happier than she was about losing the small bit of autonomy he had because school was ending. He got it, she suddenly thought. He understood. She smiled at him in a weird sort of solidarity.

A corner of his mouth lifted, as if he was pleased, as if he’d put out bait and she’d finally bitten. And she felt that smile all the way to her core.

“Bailey?” She turned when Vanna called to her. “You’re not going to any graduation parties this weekend, are you?”

Bailey turned back to Clutch. Like her, people noticed if he went out. But what if there was a sea of people they could get lost in? Half the parents of graduates were throwing parties that weekend, mostly held in paneled rec rooms and damp basements. Funyuns and Hawaiian Punch would be served. Grandparents were always invited, because they brought cards with money tucked inside. It was all very boring, but mandatory. If you were lucky, you were invited to Cyrus Kneely’s party. Same Funyuns, Hawaiian Punch, and grandparents, but at least he had a pool. But all of them were during the day. That’s when she remembered Tasha’s invitation. She looked over to her. Tasha didn’t have a pool. She didn’t have grandparents, either. But she did have a mother who was the proud owner of a scrubby, seven-acre piece of land she’d won in her divorce years ago and told everyone would be the perfect spot for something big—like a vacation home or a blowout nighttime graduation bonfire party.

Bailey didn’t know what came over her, but she said, loud enough for Clutch to hear, “Tasha’s party tomorrow night sounds like fun.” Everyone in the cafeteria went silent. Bailey Wester was going to a party.