Page 73 of The Tryout

Finn laughs at this, if a bit halfheartedly.

“They’ll want to see the apartment, for sure. I’ll make sure Dad doesn’t go overboard buying new things for the common spaces, but if there’s anything you do want…”

I know the moment the words are out of my mouth that I shouldn’t have said them. Finn’s face closes off immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

I nod, understanding.

“That’s fine. I’ll make sure he knows, and Pops will be on backup, okay?”

“Okay. Will we cook on Thursday?”

I think about this. We’ve done holidays a variety of ways as a family – big Friendsgivings with thirty or forty people, tiny Christmas dinners at a Chinese restaurant, and everything in between.

“Do you want to? I think they’d be okay either way – something homemade or going out. It’s not a big deal.”

“You don’t have family traditions?”

I shrug.

“I mean, some? But our biggest Thanksgiving tradition is welcoming our friends to join, no matter what we’re doing. You’ll be there, so that’s already taken care of.”

Finn seems to think about this for a while. As he does, I ask a question that’s been going through my mind ever since he told me more about his family.

“What about you? Were there any big traditions you did with your family? Anything you’d want to make sure we do?”

The look on his face shifts to something I can’t quite describe – some mixture of sadness and anger.

“Nothing with my mom. I was off school, which meant being home more which…wasn’t good.”

I let that statement lay exactly where he drops it, knowing that digging into it won’t be good for either of us.

“With Nana? She would get food from her church or the foster agency, so we’d at least have a nice meal together. But she, uh…”

He looks around, almost as though he thinks someone is listening in.

“She wasn’t exactly the world’s best cook. So it was usually overcooked turkey and undercooked green bean casserole. And then we’d talk about what we were grateful for that year.”

I think about twelve-year-old Finn and what he would have been grateful for. Twelve-year-old Avery was…kind of an ungrateful brat, now that I think about it.

“And at the group home, it was pretty much like any other day.”

“Group home?”

“Yeah. She died when I was sixteen, so I had to go…somewhere. I thought about getting emancipated, but it’s pretty hard at sixteen to earn enough money for rent and still go to school and play a sport. So I went into a group home instead.”

Never once did sixteen-year-old Avery think about doing anything other than exactly what he wanted. I went to school, played sports, and hung out with friends. And, as Finn once said, popped boners over half of Los Angeles County. I didn’t have a job other than passing my classes and couldn’t have taken care of myself if I’d had to.

But that’s the thing – I’d never had to. Not even now, when the safety net of my dads is no more than a phone call and a four hour flight away.

As we pull into the parking lot at the arena, Finn must misunderstand my silence.

“Avery? I really do want your dads to come, okay? I just…I just want to make sure I know what to expect. All families are different, you know.”

I press my lips together and nod, wanting to reassure him but unable to find the words.

He presses on.