“This song is called ‘In My Life,’ and it is the only Beatles song that Martin Gallagher even half likes and was willing to learn. Faye Gallagher isn’t joining us because, as Martin would say, she hasn’t a note in her head.” And they started and sang the whole song together. We were all stuck in our separate places on the living room floor, not facing each other, listening to our father and Marie sing. His voice was like those Irish singers who sound as if they’re singing through their noses, nasal and slightly shaky. It sounded like it was from a very long time ago. Marie’s small choir voice next to his was sweet, and I could hear how happy she was to be singing this song with her dad, how serious it was because it was into a microphone and being recorded. And I had no idea when they’d learned this or how. Where had I been when that was happening? Marie must have memories of us all together, and of having something like a family life, things Thomas and I were too young to remember. Her ease talking about Mom and Dad, how Martin teased Faye. I had no memories like that. Not even one.

Thomas switched off the recording. “Shit, I wasn’t expecting that.”

My back was still to him. “I know.”

“I wish I could tell him stuff,” he said.

“What stuff?” asked Beatrice. I rolled over then to look at her. She was still holding the handle of her suitcase, looking at Thomas.

“I wish I could tell him he was a good father,” said Thomas. “I don’t think he knew.”

I felt the same.

“We should put them back before Mom gets home,” I said. Thomas started rewinding the tape, spinning the reel backwards with his finger. “Bea, don’t tell her we were listening to them. I don’t think she even remembers they’re up there.”

“Can we listen to the others? Another day when I get back from camp?”

I looked at Thomas.

“I guess,” he said. “That’s why Dad made them.”

I sat on the front steps, looking toward the top of the street, any minute expecting to see a black Camaro creep down the road. Sage had told Wilson about Space Port, behind my back. She’d known before I did that Jack would want the whole night forgotten, knew other stuff about him at school. I felt left out, small and resentful. Everyone was full of secrets. Sage, me, my mother. And now I knew Mrs. Boucher’s. But I wanted to be sure.