Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 76

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Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 76

Eli opened three more boxes, each one nestled inside the other, until he finally opened a small
elegant box that he prayed didn’t hold a watch. That would make him feel even shittier about
his gifts. But inside, he found an envelope. And inside the envelope: three hand-drawn tickets
that said Lion King on them, along with the date of March 3 in his mom’s handwriting, all
curlicues and flourishes.
He stared at them for a moment, not understanding. Then his mom gushed, “We’re going to
take you to a Broadway show when we come up to visit you in March! I know it’s silly, but that
was your favorite movie when you were a kid.”
He couldn’t believe they remembered that. He and Nick had literally destroyed their old VHS
tape, they’d watched it so many times. Any other year, he’d be happy to see an overpriced
Broadway show with his folks and indulge in some shared nostalgia, but this year? What a mess.
“We wanted to make sure you were free around that date before we bought the tickets,”
Wendall added. “I know your new job must have you running ragged.”
“Uh. Okay.” This was not the way Eli had wanted to tell them. Ideally he would have told them
the truth about his lack of employment when about forty members of his extended family were
not headed their way for Christmas dinner. But they’d left him no choice. “So, the thing is, I may
not be living in New York in March.”
“What?” His mom gaped. “Why?”
“Because.” Like a Band-Aid. Just let it rip. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. His folks had been so
understanding about the pictures; they could understand this, surely. “I lost my job, couldn’t
find another one, and I’m subletting my apartment until I figure out what’s next.”

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“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” his dad said under his breath. “Why didn’t you say something?”
His mom reached down and put a hand on his knee. She didn’t look angry; in fact, Eli noticed
that she looked downright gleeful. “So you’re moving back in with us?”
Eli closed his eyes. “Mom…”
“This is perfect! We can repaint the guest room. Make it yours again. Oh, Wen, do you think we
can fix that closet door? Eli shouldn’t have to deal with a sticky closet door.”
“Mom!” Eli opened his eyes again in time to see his parents jump an inch off the couch. “Can we
please just—not start cheerfully making plans for my possible incarceration?”
“Incarceration? That’s a bit much,” his dad said.
“Would it really be so bad? Staying here with us while you get back on your feet?” Cora asked,
her face falling. Then she perked up again. “Ooh, you can come to my CrossFit classes with me.”
“I don’t want to go to CrossFit classes with you,” Eli snapped. “I don’t want to stay here at all.
I’m almost forty! Moving back here will mean I’ve failed harder than I have ever failed at
anything in my life, and trust me, that’s saying a lot.”
“Now, I’m sure that’s not true,” Wendall said.
“Yes, it is.” Eli could feel his face getting red hot. Why weren’t they listening to him? “Comedy is
all I want to do, and I can’t do it anymore because my career is fucked. Do you get that? Do you
get why I might not want to start picking paint colors? I do that, it’s over. I’m done. That’s the
worst-case scenario.”