Page 22 of The Session

“Are we ready to order?” Holly asked, reaching a hand under the table to pat Mark on the knee.

The rest of the evening was a play they put on for one another, and none of them enjoyed it.

Mark held open the passenger door for Holly to climb into his truck, then used the moment as he walked around the vehicle to catch his breath and calm down before getting behind the wheel.

Cars moved slowly through the tiny intersection, and all the shops around the restaurant were closed. It was quiet. He tried to match that calm.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Holly finally spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I’m sorry.”

“About Santa Fe, or your dad giving me his little talk?” Mark asked.

“First of all, there’s not much to say about Santa Fe. That’s coming from him. It’s not something I pursued or am seriously thinking about. But as for the talk—Mom told me in the bathroom. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have had us go tonight.”

“We had to be with them, for better or worse. I just wish you’d told me about Santa Fe. I want you to know, if it’s something serious to you, I support it. I’ll figure something out there. That’s assuming . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Assuming what? That I want to stay with you? Don’t be stupid, Mark. Of course I do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Santa Fe?”

“Because it was just that—something my dad brought up. I talked to them and it’s interesting, but right now, I don’t know if that’s what I want.”

“Well, you could have at least mentioned it. I’m excited to hear that it came up,” Mark said. “And I don’t know why you would keep it from me.”

“Because you had your interview in Florida, and I didn’t want you conflicted. If that worked out, then we’d be having one conversation instead of another,” she explained.

“What other conversation?” Mark asked.

“It’s just a figure of speech,” she said.

“No, it sounds like more than that. Like that was my shot, my chance. If it worked out, great. But otherwise, we’re going to have a conversation about me doing something different.”

Holly crossed her arms and stared through the windshield as an older couple walked along the sidewalk, stopping occasionally to stare into window displays. They were in front of a store that sold bronze statues. Holly and Mark had been there before and laughed at some of the more outrageous pieces, including a fly-fishing grizzly bear that cost as much as a midsize Kia.

“I know you have focus, and I know you have ambition, despite what my father told you, and I love you the way you are. I just feel like sometimes you don’t see yourself that way—like you have to settle, or fixate on some specific thing you decided you were going to do when you were twelve,” Holly said.

“I’m not sure I get what you’re trying to say.”

“You’re still dealing with the fact that your dad stepped out before you were born. You’re trying to fill some hole. And I get that. Byron’s a good guy. You’ve been around a lot of good men, like Stevenson and others, but I feel like you’re still searching for somebody to tell you you’re good enough. And I see how that manifests. I see what you do for those kids who don’t have father figures in their lives. You’re out there supporting them, trying to give them the sort of help you didn’t get enough of, or didn’t get from the right person. But I don’t know if you see that.”

“Obviously,” he said, “I’m trying to do the thing that helped me.”

“I know. But what I don’t think you see is how it affected your psyche—for lack of a better word.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong, but I really don’t know what to do with that. And now it’s just gotten kind of weirder . . .”

“What do you mean?”

“I just learned my mom worked at Summit, and I think that’s where she met my father,” Mark said.

“Did you ask her about that?”

“I tried,” Mark said. “But she was evasive. Probably didn’t want to go into it with Byron there, and he definitely didn’t want to hear about it.” He sighed. “Actually, I’m used to that. Growing up, whenever I asked questions about who my dad was, she’d get distant. Pretty soon, I just stopped asking. I always assumed he was a loser or some one-night stand.”

“I can’t imagine what that was like for you, growing up.”

“Sometimes it’s better not to know who your father is, I guess. Byron’s been good to me, so I can’t complain.”

“Byron has done the absolute minimum for you,” Holly said. “What about that sale he’s been chasing? Are you getting any part of that?”