Wish You Were Here by Stewart O’Nan Read Free Book Online Page A

thing Morgan warned him against) and shut the door. All he’d had to eat today was an egg-salad sandwich around Albany; he’d have to be careful with these beers. The last time he was drunk he’d gone all maudlin on Lise, thanking her for sticking with him. It had made them both feel pathetic the next day.
    â€œHow are the coals coming along?” Arlene called from the kitchen door.
    The top of the pyramid was on fire, the centers of the briquets dark. They always took longer than you thought.
    â€œFive, ten minutes.”
    â€œIs everyone going to want cheese on theirs?”
    â€œEveryone but Sam.”
    He unplugged the starter, leveled the coals with the glowing wire, then set it on the concrete apron by the garage. Rufus was smart enough to stay away from it, but he kept checking to make sure it didn’t catch anything on fire.
    The lake had gone calm, flags limp at the end of the docks. The sun hung just above the treetops, throwing shadows. In the field across the road, a family of rabbits was out, feeding under the apple trees. They stayed close to the bushy edge of the field, brown balls in the dark light, cheeks working as they nibbled the grass. He counted five, one just a baby. This was what he would miss after the cottage was gone, these slow moments.
    He decided he shouldn’t have had that second beer.
    He held a hand over the coals, mostly gray now, then set the circular rack on its post.
    Lise was in the kitchen, helping Arlene, who had spilled a potful of snap beans on the floor. Lise gave him a goofy look as he swung through. He warned her with a straight face, and she let him know he was being no fun.
    â€œAre those coals ready yet?” Arlene asked.
    The burgers were waiting on a plate. He grabbed a spatula and took them out and slid them on, watching the fat drizzle and flare up. Sam and Ella had come in from the dock and installed themselves on the screenporch. From around the corner he could hear his mother asking them questions. Lise and Arlene were working on the salad. He flipped the burgers, nearly dropping one through, saving it with his hand, wiping his greasy fingers on the grass. The burgers were thick and would take a long time, and he wondered where Meg was, not at all surprised that she was late. They would talk tonight, long after his mother and, grudgingly, Lise had gone to bed, and she would tell him about Jeff and exactly what happened. He hoped so. While it never played out that way, he always thought that together they could solve any problem by talking, the way they’d joined forces as kids, the two of them against the world.
    It seemed they’d lost that battle—or maybe it was just him, his disappointment tinting everything. But Meg really was struggling. His own problems were ones he’d knowingly chosen. She’d never had that luxury.
    He felt he’d let her down somehow, not been involved or helped out enough. Not that she would have listened to him. For months he didn’t hear from her, and then she was calling him practically every day, keepinghim on the phone until his ear was sore. All she did was complain about Jeff, or the kids, or her therapist. Some days, she said, I call in sick and just lie in bed and read. I don’t get dressed, I don’t do anything, I just lie there. And then the next minute she’d be all excited about her promotion and this new program at her work, as if the rest of it didn’t exist, until one day she admitted she’d been fired months ago but didn’t want to tell him because she knew he’d tell their mother.
    She was so fucked up.
    He flipped the burgers and dug into one with the corner of the spatula, but it was still raw. The coals were hot enough, he just had to be patient. When he went inside to rinse off the plate the kitchen was empty, everything laid out on the table. He came back out with the cheese. He was tempted to peek again but held off.
    It was getting