“You really want to know?”
“I don’t think we want to know,” Gary says. “Jim, I think you need—”
“No, I really want to know,” Lila interrupts.
So does everyone else watching.
“You get upset about something very small and minor,” Jim says. “And Gary takes deep breaths and says, Okay, okay, we’ll fix this, and then he is going to fix it, and then you’ll feel better, until tomorrow when you find something else pointless to melt down about.”
“It’s not pointless,” Lila says.
“It’s a lemon thing! On a spoon!” Jim says. “Who cares?”
“I care!” Lila screams. “I care! What is so wrong about caring? What is so wrong about wanting things to be done right? That’s how you make big dreams happen, Jim. That’s how you actually build a seaplane. You have to order all the parts and then make sure you get all the right parts, because if you are missing even just one, the seaplane doesn’t work!”
“What does any of this have to do with my seaplane?” Jim asks.
“You don’t even have a seaplane!” Lila says. “For two years, you’ve been talking about it like you have this seaplane, but you don’t! You haven’t even ordered the frame! Because you don’t take anything seriously, not even your own dreams. You just sit around and talk about all the shit you’re never going to do and all the people who aren’t here, and I’m sorry your sister is dead, but you seriously have to move on and start building your seaplane! All of you do.”
The family looks at Lila, a little stunned.
“This is tiresome,” Jim says. “I’m tired of this.”
“Tired of what exactly?”
“I’m tired of you overreacting like this,” Jim says. “Yelling at everyone. And Gary just standing there. Look at him. He’s just standing there.”
They all look at Gary, and Gary clears his throat. But he doesn’t speak. He just continues standing there.
“You’re both better than this,” Jim says.
Another firework goes off in the distance. “Good night,” Jim says, and then leaves like this was the real speech he had been writing inside his head all week. All year.
Phoebe half expects Lila to yell for Jim as he walks away, but she says nothing, as if she’s already trying to be her better self.
“Did you know that shrimp eat themselves from the inside?” Juice asks, holding a glass of wine in her hand.
“Are you drinking?” Gary asks.
Marla puts up her hand. “I’ll handle it,” she says.
“Juice,” Gary says. “Why are you drinking?”
“I’ll handle it,” Marla says. “Go down to the Cliff Walk and enjoy the fireworks with your fiancée. That’s an order.”
Lila and Gary look at each other, a kind of helpless look, as if they have no idea how to enjoy the fireworks now. But they leave, and Oliver looks distressed, like he just realized that something is deeply wrong with the adults in his life. Phoebe remembers sensing the same thing as a child, seeing her father walk a woman to the door after dinner. Never inviting her to stay. Never allowing anyone into his life after her mother. He said goodbye to the woman, whoever she was, and Phoebe could feel him making a mistake, could feel that sometimes doing nothing was the biggest mistake of all.
But Oliver is just pointing at the nude painting of Lila’s mother.
“Is that you?” he asks Patricia.
“That’s me,” Patricia says.
It’s Juice who explodes, all over the table. Red vomit everywhere.
“Oh my God,” Marla says, hand to forehead.
Marla looks at Phoebe.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t,” Marla says, and takes her husband’s hand for the first time since he arrived. “Vomit makes me vomit.”
JUICE WALKS SILENTLY under the wing of Phoebe’s arm, all the way into the elevator.
“I’m so sorry,” Juice says.
“I know,” Phoebe says.
“I mean, I’m so sad.”
“I know.”
“I miss my mom.”
“I know.”
“I wish she could be here.”
“I know.”
