Wish You Were Here by Stewart O’Nan Page A

Stacey was young; because she had a temper and Stacey was a pushover; because she was dull and Stacey was exciting. All true and simple enough (Stacey was twenty-eight and played squash, wore asize four), but the more she brooded on these facts, the more she was convinced there was another, deeper reason he wasn’t telling her, and never would, some secret shortcoming of hers that made it impossible for anyone to ever love her fully. She had sensed this as a child, learned it, perhaps, from her mother, with all the conditions she put on her, carried it like a cross and then a mark of honor through adolescence until, in her mid-twenties, she began to search in earnest for someone who could prove her wrong. She’d found Jeff, and he’d fooled her into believing she was worthy of that kind of love.
    The boards jiggled beneath her feet, and she turned to see Rufus padding toward her, her mother in her quilted jacket and clip-on sunglasses stepping onto the dock. Still defenseless from the memory of Jeff, Meg felt as if she’d sneaked up on her.
    She stood, squinting, as Rufus pranced around her knees, his claws scrabbling on the boards. She was almost finished, so she set the bowl down, and he sloshed away at it.
    â€œDon’t give that to him,” her mother said, but took her in her arms, kept her hands after they’d separated. “I’m so glad you could come.”
    â€œIt wasn’t a choice.”
    â€œI know things aren’t easy with just yourself.”
    â€œI’m used to it. How are you?” she countered.
    â€œGood,” her mother said. She took her hands back and sat down. “We’re not getting as much rain as I’d like, but it hasn’t been too bad.”
    â€œGetting out to the club much?”
    â€œI try to get over for a dip around lunchtime. Afternoons it’s a zoo, as you can imagine.” She laid a hand on her arm. “I’m so happy you could make it. I see you found your cereal.” Rufus was done and licking his nose.
    â€œI can’t believe you remembered.”
    â€œFor years it was all you’d eat. I saw it in the store yesterday and I just thought. Is it still utterly dreadful?”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    â€œI’ve caught up with Justin, but haven’t seen hide nor hair of Sarah.”
    Meg explained her new sleeping habits, and predictably her mother reminded her of her own as a girl, as if they were the same person, the world and time identical for all of them.
    â€œHow late did you all get in?” her mother asked.
    â€œAbout eleven.”
    â€œYou could have called. I thought you said you’d be here in time for dinner.”
    â€œI should have told you,” she said. “Jeff scheduled a meeting yesterday morning with the lawyers, very last-minute.”
    Her mother sat up straight for the news, her face grave, and Meg thought that she was taking this personally, seeing it as her failure as well.
    â€œBasically we were going over the paperwork,” she said, when Rufus wheeled around, wagging his tail. The dock shook, and they both turned to see Justin and Sam racing across the boards toward them.
    â€œWe’ll finish this later?” her mother asked, as if Meg might try to avoid it, and it was funny, her mother reading her like that, because that was exactly what she’d been thinking.
    â€œYes,” Meg said, just as the boys thundered up, Game Boys in hand.
    They were breathing hard. Both of them wanted to talk.
    â€œSarah and Ella say they don’t have to go to the flea market,” Justin reported.
    â€œAnd?” Meg said.
    â€œDo we have to?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause all you’d do is stay here and play your Game Boys. Aunt Lisa’s rule is one hour a day. How long have you been playing for?”
    â€œHalf an hour,” Justin lied.
    She took the Game Boy from him, and Sam slid his into his pocket. “You