Read What You Have Left for Free Online

plate of steamed clams. So far, the evening didn’t feel like much of a celebration. Cal had shown little interest in anything except his wine. All day, I’d been trying to cheer him up. I wanted to believe I hadn’t talked him into anything, that in the end, he was just like anyone else, in no hurry to die; I wanted to believe he was no more able to let go of me than I was of him. “You and Lyle,” he said, “you aren’t fighting?” I refilled his glass and tried to change the subject, talking about things we might do now that the house was finished. Cal just nodded along as I suggested a week at the beach, a trip to California to see his sister. It wasn’t until Lyle rolled into the restaurant at six-thirty, full of apologies, that Cal finally perked up. Lyle explained he’d been out shopping for a suit, then hustled around town looking for a tailor who could do alterations on the spot.
    â€œDidn’t find one,” he said, wiggling his arms inside the long sleeves of his jacket.
    â€œYou look fine,” Cal said.
    â€œFor a circus clown,” I added, but Lyle was in too good a mood to take offense. You could tell a weight had been lifted from his shoulders: The end of his work hadn’t meant the end of Cal after all. Once we placed our orders, Cal excused himself to go to the bathroom. Lyle turned to me.
    â€œWell?”
    I feigned interest in the swordfish. “I guess he realized he was being selfish. Not that you’d ever have told him so.”
    â€œSo the stranger who showed up at my apartment last night,” Lyle said, “she’s still with us?”
    â€œYou should wash your sheets,” I said. “They still smell like turpentine. And you shouldn’t have let me sleep alone.”
    He picked up a cocktail napkin and waved it like a white flag. “Ten-four. Won’t happen again.”
    I wasn’t going to let him off so easily, but he looked like he meant it, and when Cal came out of the bathroom and smiled at the sight of us together, I couldn’t stay mad. The night turned into a celebration after all. We ended up with more food than three people could possibly eat—baskets of hush puppies and popcorn shrimp, platters of broiled oysters, scallops, flounder. Cal was in top form, ordering a bottle of champagne and flirting with the waitresses even more than usual. He brought up my idea of spending a week at the beach and declared that all three of us should go. “I’ve got a friend with a house at Surfside,” he said. “We’ll rent a boat, do some crabbing.” Watching him preside over the table, seeing him in such an expansive mood, I knew I’d done the right thing. We’d still have months together, maybe years.
    After dinner, Lyle followed us back to the farm for a nightcap, at which time Cal suggested a round of golf in the morning. We’d play at Forest Acres, then have lunch in the clubhouse. I told him I wasn’t ready to play in front of other people, but he just clinked his brandy glass against mine and told me to follow his lead. “Remember,” he said, “you can observe a lot just by watching.”
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    Shortly after I came to live with my grandfather, I decided to join my mother in heaven. My father had been gone for weeks, and though I’d not yet given up on him, I wanted to punish him for leaving me, and I wanted to punish my grandfather for thinking he could take my parents’ place. With half a peanut butter sandwich in my shirt pocket, I climbed out the dormer window of my bedroom and onto the roof. Below me, the propane tank glowed dull in the moonlight, a soft patter of raindrops on its metallic surface. My plan was to jump, but after I stood there awhile, gauging the distance between me and the ground, I decided to run away to heaven instead. From the corner of the roof, I was able to reach the chinaberry