when we were kids and Dad was the strong silent type? I miss those times.’
‘Speaking of bad company, what’s wrong with you?’ said Dean.
Amy had been in a mood all night. She had hardly said a word, and when she did it was short and abrasive. If it had been me nobody would have noticed, but when Amy turned shy it was a big red flag.
‘Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine,’ she said.
‘She’s been like this all week,’ Wayne grumbled, still staring at his phone.
Dean leaned forward onto his elbows and studied Amy. ‘What’s going on, sweetheart?’
Amy glanced at me with an expression that seemed to say both tell him and don’t say a thing.
‘Fine,’ Dean said. ‘Forget my wonderfully thought-provoking and intellectual topic of conversation. Let’s talk about the weather, shall we? Or petrol prices, or politics.’
‘Let’s talk about Esmé Durand,’ Amy said.
‘Who’s Esmé Durand?’ Dean asked.
‘Do you remember my high-school friend Fiona Durand?’
Dean took a second to think it over. ‘Was Fiona the one who wet the bed?’
‘That was Michelle. Fiona was the redhead: petite, super cute. She was at Mum’s funeral.’
‘Was she the one who came home late after your deb and ate the last of my Jarlsberg?’
‘That was Natalie. The point is, her mother, Esmé, is single now. Her husband ran off with a woman from his work – he’s in finance or something, and she was his boss and, like, ten years older.’
‘Quite the scandal,’ Dean said, topping up his wine.
‘Yeah, so anyway, she’s single now.’
‘And?’
‘And she’s single, and cute, and I really think you guys would get along.’
‘Oh, well, thanks for the offer, Amy, but I don’t need my daughter to find me dates.’
‘Well, someone has to.’
He quieted then. ‘I’m not really looking for that sort of thing just yet.’
‘It’s been four years, Dad. Do you want to be alone forever?’
Her tone had turned hot and serious. Dean looked like a frightened mouse trying to escape a trap. ‘I’m fine, really. I just need to … It’s not that easy just to …’
‘Mum would have wanted you to find someone.’
‘Take it easy, Amy,’ I said. ‘He said he’s not ready.’
Her eyes turned red and wet.
‘What’s got into you?’ Dean asked, his own tone more serious now – and, if I had to guess, laced with a little anger. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘Nothing’s got into me,’ she snapped back, dabbing her eyes with her napkin. ‘I just don’t want you to be lonely.’
‘I’m not lonely. I have you guys, and Lisa, and Scout.’
Amy cried harder. Wayne sat and watched her with a stunned, terrified look on his face.
‘Darling …’ Dean moved to rise out of his chair, but Amy waved him away.
‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re the opposite of fine. What is it? Have I done something? Talk to me.’
‘This isn’t about you.’
‘Then what’s it about?’
She took the napkin away from her eyes long enough to glance at me. Then scornfully, bitterly, desperately, she said, ‘It’s about Sammy fucking Went.’
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