Hannah Gersen - Home Field

“Is Stephanie okay?” Bryan asked.

“She’s fine, she’s just doing stupid things. She needs a come-to-Jesus talk. So to speak.”

“I’m going to pray for her,” Bryan said. “I’m going to pray for God’s wisdom to visit her.”

“Oh my God, excuse me while I barf,” Robbie said.

“Don’t be rude to your brother,” Dean said. “He’s your ally.”

They were getting onto the turnpike when it occurred to Dean that he didn’t know how to get to Stephanie’s college, only that it was near Philadelphia. He made Robbie get the Pennsylvania map out of the glove compartment and figure out the route. Then he stopped at a gas station to double-check it and realized it was faster to go through Maryland. He filled up the tank and bought the boys snacks. He didn’t want to stop again if he didn’t have to. For himself, he got a large coffee. He was tired and a little bit hungover beneath it all.

Bryan fell asleep in the backseat as soon as they got on the highway, the hum of the road putting him out the way it used to do when he was a baby. Robbie tuned the radio to the same alternative rock station that Stephanie listened to and that Dean tolerated reluctantly. Actually, after four years, he was getting used to it, even beginning to appreciate some of it. He could hear the melodies now, beneath the feedback. He listened closely to the lyrics of each song, as if they could provide a window into his daughter’s character. He kept thinking back to when they were close, when she was nine, ten, eleven. Even twelve and thirteen were good years. She used to tag along with him for every errand, every little trip into town. She loved to go with him to the printer’s to pick up programs for the game; she said she liked the smell of ink. She went with him so often to Tri-State Sports that the owner had a special windbreaker made for her, with her name embroidered on the pocket. She had been wearing it the night Bryan was born. Dean remembered her pulling the hood over her head and dozing off in the waiting area. When she was finally allowed to see Bryan, she said he looked like Robbie when he was born. A simple thing to say, but in that moment, Dean realized how many memories he shared with her. There were things in the world that only the two of them had seen.

Dean’s vision blurred a little, the road ahead a shaky line. He’d let his girl down, he’d let her get lost. He glanced at Robbie to see if he was looking at him, but he was staring out the passenger-side window. In the backseat, Bryan’s expression seemed utterly transparent, even in sleep. Bryan was always hoping for good things. Even in dreamland he was hoping.

STEPHANIE WALKED BACK to her dorm in a daze after seeing a movie. The photogenic old oaks that guarded her campus cast long, pleasing shadows. It was magic hour, a term she’d only recently learned, and the mellow early-evening light was the perfect balm for her wrung-out senses. She was happy she’d gone out alone, that she didn’t have to talk to anyone about the matinee she’d just seen, a lush, intense romance about a man who falls in love with another man’s wife in the desert. The man’s wife, an Englishwoman, had had her mother’s golden glow.

On the lawn in front of her dormitory, two boys were playing Frisbee — actual boys, not college boys. They looked to be the same ages as her brothers. As Stephanie got closer, she realized they were her brothers. She ran to them, calling their names, a rush of excitement coming over her and then fading rapidly as she registered that her father must be nearby. She had asked her grandparents not to tell him.

Bryan got to her first, throwing his arms around her neck. He was sweaty from running around outside, his hair damp and smelling sweetly floral, like he’d been using a girl’s shampoo. Maybe hers, something she’d left behind.

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Bryan said. “It was something you did.”

“Yeah, what happened?” Robbie asked. He gave her a brief hug, barely touching her. “Dad won’t tell us.”

“He said it was stupid,” Bryan said.

“I’m fine,” Stephanie said reflexively. So she was stupid. That was the official summary. “Dad’s exaggerating. You know how he is. Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s on the phone inside. He’s calling your room.”

It was strange to see her father on a campus phone in the foyer, leaning against the cinder-block wall like a student. Something about the sight embarrassed her. He looked vulnerable and out of place. When he saw her, he ran to her, embracing her with a force that surprised her. Sometimes she forgot he was an athlete. That he was stronger than most people. It felt good to have him holding her so tightly, but at the same time, she felt a vast, dark sky of confusion opening up within her — the sky that the drug had shown her, and which she didn’t think she would ever be able to forget.

“Honey, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was worried when you didn’t answer the phone.”

“I was at the movies.”

“The movies?”

“What’s wrong with going to the movies?”

“Nothing, it’s just not what I expected.” Her father glanced at Robbie and Bry. “Is there a lounge where they can watch TV or something?”

Stephanie led them to a common area on the first floor, where there was a TV, sofas, and a couple of shelves filled with cast-off books, magazines, and games. Two boys Stephanie vaguely knew were watching Labyrinth. They smiled as Robbie and Bryan settled onto the sofa next to them, as if it were perfectly normal for small children to join them. There was something so nonchalant about some of her classmates. Stephanie still wasn’t used to it.

She brought her father to an adjacent room, a small, wood-paneled library with built-in shelves, a relic from earlier in the building’s history. She watched as he took in all the genteel details: the fireplace with its long mantelpiece, the old-fashioned standing pencil sharpeners, the thick windowpanes, the heavy curtains drawn back with wide sashes, and the small, gilt-framed oil painting of the pinkish and well-fed man who lent her dormitory its name. She saw how pretentious it must seem to her father, how ridiculous she must seem for wanting to be here.

“Dad, I’m sorry,” she said. “I know why you’re here, okay? You don’t need to yell at me.”

“I didn’t come here to yell at you. I came to check on you. I got a visit this morning from your grandparents.”

“They came to the house ?”

“They were worried. I’m worried, too.”

“I’m sorry. I told them not to bother you.”

“They didn’t bother me. I’m grateful to them. As you should be. I don’t think I need to remind you, they’re paying your tuition.”

“I’m on a partial scholarship.”

“Even more reason not to mess it up.”

“You did come here to yell at me. I get it, okay? I’m a stupid person.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Her father glanced around the library, as if looking for a prop. “This is a really nice school. I don’t want you to do anything to jeopardize your future here.”

“I’m not. I’m really not. No one knows what I did, okay? No one would care anyway.”

“I don’t care who knows. I care about your health, I care about your brain, I care about what you’re doing to yourself.”

“If you care so much, where were you last night when I called?”

“That’s not relevant.”

“You say you want to be there for me, but you’re never there when I need you. Where were you? What were you doing? Were you out with that woman?”

“You know what, Stephanie? It’s none of your business.”

“Then it’s none of your business what I was doing last night.”