The right side of his house stood intact. The left side had crumpled under a tree uprooted from his front yard.
Finn couldn’t find a better metaphor for his life. Career perfectly erected. Personal life flattened.
“It’s a disaster,” he said to his friend Mandy, standing on the pavement in front of his half house.
“Could be worse,” she said.
“A tree squashed my home.”
“You could’ve been inside when it fell.”
His neighbors had reported that the tree fell around 5:30 p.m., during a freak rainstorm. Had he been home, he would’ve been in his bedroom changing for his evening run after stocking the kitchen for his daughter’s stay. Fortunately, the kitchen—along with his favorite pans—hadn’t been destroyed like the rest. He’d never been as grateful to a client for keeping him late at work.
So, yes, it could’ve been worse. But that didn’t solve his other predicament.
“In two hours, I pick up Ana from Susan’s. If my ex learns I have no home, she’ll keep Ana for the rest of the summer.”
A year ago, his ex-wife had accepted a job in Finn’s hometown. He’d moved across country from Virginia, where he’d lived for the past eighteen years, back home to be near his daughter. Last month, Ana had been traveling with her mom and stepdad—the longest he’d been apart from her since the divorce.
Finn had spent that time furnishing Ana’s bedroom—now obliterated, like her planned stay.
“Still nothing to rent?” Mandy asked.
Finn shook his head.
Mandy and her husband had offered their couch until he could find a short-term rental. Nothing was available and he’d run out of time.
Chainsaws revved. The contractors began the arduous task of extracting the tree from Finn’s house before estimating the damage.
Mandy led him across the street to his car.
“With the biggest pop culture convention in town, I knew it would be difficult,” she said.
“Short-term rentals and hotels are booked through next week. The only places available are over an hour outside the city.” And away from his job and Ana’s theater camp. “I just need someplace until the con ends.”
“I have an idea.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Hear me out first.”
“I’ll take it. I’m in a bind.”
“Then I’ll let Robin know you’re coming.”
“Wait, what? Robin?”
“Yes, Robin. My sister, your old girlfriend. The one you’ve been avoiding.”
“I haven’t been avoiding her. Between moving, starting a job, and having a tree crush my hopes, I didn’t have time.”
“Right, in the year since moving here, you’ve had no time.”
How he’d missed that Wright sisters’ sarcasm. “We didn’t part on the best terms.”
“No need to tell me. After you broke up, she didn’t sleep or eat for days.”
He hated to be reminded of the pain he’d caused. “You’re making my point.”
“I’m joking, sort of. I found bowls of half-eaten mac and cheese in her room, so she didn’t starve.”
“She hates me.”
“She can’t hate her first love.”
“Which is why she never returned my calls or replied to my letters?”
Finn had never hated Robin, had never stopped wishing for a reunion in their first year apart. Then he’d met Susan and had a child, and eighteen years had passed in an instant.
“She’s stubborn. Besides, you’re friends on Facebook.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.” He lurked through her feed, never commenting, afraid she wouldn’t respond.
“You aren’t to blame for what happened. You were at different places in life. Plus, if Robin hasn’t forgiven you, why did she agree to let you stay?”
“You asked her?”
“This morning, but based on your expression, you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t believe she agreed willingly.”
“Maybe she wouldn’t have, if she didn’t need the money.”
“What’s wrong?” Not that he should be surprised. Robin had never excelled at bookkeeping. Finn had planned to manage Robin’s business after he became a CPA. Then his father had died, and his mother had needed him more than Robin, it seemed.
“It’s not her fault. Christopher—”
“Her boyfriend?” Occasionally, photos of a man sporting a scraggy goatee and long hair crossed his socials from Robin’s page. Finn ignored them, or tried to.
“Boyfriend and business partner. He stole her clients and assistant, stiffed her on rent.”
“I’ll pay whatever she needs.” And more, if it meant mending the rift between them.
“What she really needs is a friend.”
He could use another as well. Being in his home city again, going to the places he used to frequent with Robin, highlighted how alone he was.
“Considering how I left things between us, I don’t know where to start.”
“You said you’d come back to her, and you’re here now.”
“I also told her to grow up.”
“Trust me, she’s forgotten about that,” Mandy said.
***
“You know what he said before he left?” Robin shoved random pots into a kitchen cabinet.
“That he’d come back—”
“To grow up!” She cut off Mandy’s response on her way to the living room.
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