Page 47 of The Things We Never Say

Two bright pink spots had been growing on Danny’s cheeks. He looked down and said, “My father wants me to go into business with him.” Danny added, “He owns a plumbing business.”

“Does your father love you?” Artie asked.

“Yeah, yeah, he does. He does.” Danny nodded.

“Then he’ll understand. You go do this, Danny.”

The red splotches on Danny’s face increased. “Seriously?”

Artie just looked at him.

“Okay, well, thanks, Mr. Dam.”

“You’re entirely welcome.”

As they stood up Artie said, “Have a good Christmas,” and Danny said, “Yeah, I’ll try.” Artie tapped his own forehead. “Remember to keep all the fuck yous right up here. Think them if you need to, but keep them up here.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I will.” Danny gave a small laugh, and then he said, “Hey, you do that too,” and Artie laughed loudly and said, “Okay, we have a deal.”

As Danny left the room he turned around and said to Artie, “You have a good Christmas as well.”

Artie said, “I’ll try.” And for those few seconds as they stood looking at each other—to Artie’s way of thinking—there was a real sense of communion between them.

The next night Artie had dinner at Spud’s with Ken Moynihan. It was high tide and a bell in the bay was clanging, the water was rough, and the surf came right below the front deck. He and Ken sat near the window that looked out at the water.

“What’s new with you?” Artie asked, and Ken told him that his son was going to get married in June, and his daughters—he had twin girls who were eighteen, they were very different from each other, which Artie already knew—were fighting a great deal these days. Ken gave a cheerful shrug. And then he said, with seriousness, “Listen, I never told my wife, I never told anyone about your situation with your son.”

Artie raised his eyebrows.

Ken took a sip of his red wine, drew the cloth napkin across his mouth, and said, “Honestly? I thought about it, and it’s not that I don’t trust Lucille—” He laughed and said, “Okay, I don’t trust Lucille. I only mean I thought about it, and it would be in her nature to tell someone, just to say something about it to someone, and I thought I don’t want that getting around town.”

Artie was moved by this. He said, “Thank you. I mean it, thank you very much. You certainly didn’t have to keep it a secret from your wife, but now that you are, I appreciate that.” He told Ken then how Evie had wanted to go to London, but Artie did not want to—“because that’s where I thought I got her pregnant, and even though we’ve been there many times since I don’t want to go there again now that I know.”

Ken watched him and said, “I get that.”

“So we’ll stay home,” Artie added. “And maybe I’ll finally tell her.”

Ken wiped his mouth again with his napkin. “Well, good luck with that conversation. Let me know how it goes. I’m not going to say anything to anyone.”

“Oh, wait,” Artie said. He had just shoved a large piece of hamburger into his mouth, and he held up a finger.

Ken waited.

Artie swallowed and said, “Can I tell you something else?” He shook his head. “Boy, I talk a lot with you. I just yak away.”

“I love it,” Ken said. He took a bite of his steak. “Seriously. Tell me.”

“Rob called me the other day—and this was interesting, Ken—because he asked me straightaway, he said, ‘What was the worst thing you ever did to your father?’ ” Artie pushed his glasses up his nose.

Ken said, “Your son sounds very interesting, I have to say. I really mean that.”

Artie nodded, and he continued, “So I said to him, the worst thing I did to my father is that I just wasn’t there for him. After Evie and I got married I just sort of, I mean, not really, but I kind of disappeared from their lives. And so Rob listens to this—and he was responsive, you know, he let me talk it through—and then he says to me, ‘The worst thing I ever did to you, Dad—’ And I interrupted him, and I said, ‘There is no worst thing you ever did to me,’ and he said, ‘Yes, there is.’ And then he said to me—” Artie looked over at Ken. “He said, ‘Heather.’ ”

Artie let out a big breath and put both hands beside his plate.

Ken watched him and then said, “Ah…” After a moment, Ken said quietly, “Such a sad story that is.”

“I know, I know.” Artie began to eat again. Then he said, “It changed us all. Evie changed. She used to be a warm person.” Artie shook his head. “I don’t know.”