How could you let a good man like that get away? Olivia hissed into the phone when Charlotte broke the news. You were always such an ungrateful child.
The summer before senior year, Charlotte rented a room from some Hein grad students and worked at Terry’s Bar, saving up as much money as possible and increasingly afraid for her future. By the time Charlotte graduated college, she and her mother rarely spoke.
Booth Thorne, her deadbeat diplomat father, did not know she was bisexual. He didn’t know much about her at all. His only positive contribution was a clause of the divorce settlement that required him to pay for all four years of Charlotte’s college education. She’d seen him in person a handful of times when his second wife reminded him of his daughter’s existence and suggested that the three of them have lunch. On the bright side, he always picked up the check.
There was no point dwelling on that chapter of her past. Nothing anyone said would change the choices her parents had made. No advice could make it less infuriating and sad. She would always be estranged from her family, and she didn’t need that to change. She didn’t want it to.
Family was who shared their fries with you.
“Charlotte?” She looked up to find Jackie watching her, bossy group leader face in full effect. “Would you like to go next?”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek. In the past, her attendance had been enough to satisfy Jackie. Apparently that rule was no longer in effect.
“Nah. I’m good, thanks,” she said. Jackie frowned, and Charlotte looked away.
Nina cleared her throat. “Let’s take a break,” she declared, sensing the collective need to take a beat. “We need ice cream.”
“Or cake!” Jio added.
Nina gave Charlotte a searching look across the table. She nodded a perfunctory I’m fine before following Matt and Jio into the cafeteria.
She shook her arms out, willing the anxiety from her body. Being pressed to talk about her parents always made her edgy. She didn’t want to open those boxes right now.
First she loaded up a plate with brownies and house-made Rice Krispies Treats. Then she joined Matt at the soft serve machine. They created aesthetically unappealing but delicious sundaes with vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, and cookie crumbs.
“Sugar sludge,” Charlotte chimed, toasting Matt with her bowl.
“Cheers,” Matt said, a knowing look in his eyes.
When they got back to the table, Reece had arrived. Charlotte averted her eyes, her nerves already shot from the dinner conversation. She scattered a handful of spoons on the table for anyone who wanted a bite. Jackie grabbed a Rice Krispies Treat and dipped it into the ice cream.
“REECE’S PIECES,” Jio cried.
Reece rose to hug them both. “It’s been too long.” He sat down next to Matt in Nina’s original chair, diagonal across the table from Charlotte. She nudged the dessert plate toward him, and he took a brownie, giving her a grateful wink.
“You’re right on time,” Nina said. “I was talking about my dad’s boundary issues.”
“I don’t have that problem,” Reece said around a mouthful of chocolate goo. Amy winced at his dark joke, and he patted her hand on the table.
He had a smear of melted brownie above his lip. Charlotte smiled into her ice cream as he tried to lick it off.
“How’s your mom?” Amy asked.
“She got another dog. Her pack of Pomeranians is now a small horde.”
Matt perked up. “Do you have any pictures?”
These are my people, Charlotte thought.
Reece pulled out his iPhone. “Yeah, I have a bunch! Hold on.” He swiped through his photos before handing the phone to Matt and Jio.
They immediately broke out laughing. “OH MY GOD there are so MANY,” Jio gushed. “Look at their little faces!” They passed the phone to Jackie, who turned it so that Charlotte could see too: a photo of Reece’s sister, Sarah, holding all four Pomeranians in her arms. They seemed displeased with the arrangement, one of them caught midwriggle with a furious scowl on his face.
“The difficult one is Hammer,” Reece explained.
Charlotte chewed her thumb. Sarah had Reece’s sunny grin, disproportionately large compared to the rest of her face. The siblings shared the same friendly quality, something about their thrown-back shoulders and rosy cheeks. They were comfortable in their own skin.
Jackie passed the phone to Amy and Nina. “Can your mom keep up with four dogs?”
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Reece said. “If they were bigger it would be a problem, but four Poms aren’t much more difficult than three.” He didn’t mention that he lived at home, and Charlotte didn’t bring it up.
“How’s Sarah?” she asked instead. From what Charlotte remembered, Reece’s sister must be a young adult by now. She swallowed a fresh clot of guilt and hoped her discomfort didn’t show on her face.
Reece took his phone back from Nina. “She’s good! She’s studying engineering.” Jio whistled, and Reece smiled. “Yeah, she was always smarter than me.”
“Do you want to talk about anything?” Jackie asked, sitting up straight again. Their leader believed in using body language to create a safe environment for sharing. Charlotte found it more sweet than authoritative.
“I miss my dad,” Reece said matter-of-factly. “I wish he could come to Sarah’s graduation. I wish he could tell me what to do with my life.”
Reece spoke with the calm of someone who’d been riding the grief rodeo for over a decade. Mr. Krueger passed away after a long battle with cancer while Reece was in high school. Reece spent most of college trying to find solid ground again. The hockey team gave him structure, but he spent off-seasons alternating his all-nighters between the science building and the loudest party he could find. Amy brought him to a 3Ds meeting after they met at the student counseling center as juniors.
It took another few months for Charlotte to cross his path—he joined the support group during her attendance lapse. When she arrived early for her first meeting post-Ben, Reece bounded into the room a few minutes later. He clung to a cup of coffee, fresh stubble disguising the sharp cut of his jaw.
She already knew who he was. Everyone knew Reece Krueger—Hein University was tiny, making Reece a big jock fish in a small liberal arts pond. Handsome midwestern hockey players did not go unnoticed. Especially handsome midwestern hockey players who made oat pancakes and margaritas in the morning for their one-night stands.
Besides, Charlotte doubted he remembered her, but they lived in the same dorm their freshman year. Their paths crossed occasionally in the laundry room. She remembered his next-door neighbor complaining about the thinness of their shared wall.
Other than that, they didn’t run in the same circles. She expected him to nod and take a seat across the room. Instead, Reece gave her a breezy “Hello!” and sat down next to her. With the discretion of a curious golden retriever, he peered at her iPad on the table. She’d been working on a portrait for the school paper before he interrupted. Under her stylus, an angular face returned his stare. “That’s Annika, right? Annika Gronlund?”
