Jesse laughed and said, “Well, I’m glad some things never change!” But then his smile fell. They looked at each other.

Dad said, “Bea. Plates, please.”

Jesse, Dad, and I shared the couch, and Mission took Sheila’s chair. He sat up straight and kept his feet flat on the floor, the opposite of Sheila.

Dad was mostly quiet while Jesse asked Mission friendly questions: if he wanted a Coke, if he’d taken the bus, if he was on his way to somewhere else. Mission reached into his jacket and pulled out a bent envelope, ripped open across the top. Two “love” stamps.

Dad saw the writing on the envelope, and then his eyes went right to me.

“I wanted to be here,” Mission said. “For your big day.”

Jesse stared at the envelope. His eyes looked full, but nothing spilled. He nodded and said, “I’m real glad you’re here.” Then he turned to Dad and gave him a tight hug, like they’d just gotten good news.

Mission dropped his eyes to his plate when Jesse did that.

We left Sheila a slice of pizza, but she never came back to eat it. Dad said to give her some time alone, so I did my homework at the table while everyone watched baseball on TV. Dad spent a long time in the kitchen by himself, making popcorn.

When I went into my room for bed, Sheila was asleep on my orange couch, knees pulled up, still wearing her boots.

Dad came and checked my hand. I had been doing a better job with the ointment. Then he sat on the edge of my bed and said, “Bea.” He didn’t have to say anything else because I knew what he meant. He meant about sending the invitation.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

Dad looked over at Sheila, and then whispered back, “Why?”

“I was afraid that Sonia wouldn’t come back. If no one else was coming to the wedding from Jesse’s family. If it was just us.”

“Sonia is coming back no matter what. She’s part of this family.”

“Mission and Jesse are part of a family,” I said.

He took a deep breath.

“He came all the way here,” I said. “That’s good, right? It means Jesse has a brother again.”

Dad said, “I hope so.”

“Dad?” I whispered. “Don’t tell Sheila, okay? Don’t tell her it was me.”

He nodded.

“Promise?”

“Promise. Don’t worry, Bea. You didn’t do anything bad. Okay? This is grown-up stuff.” Then he said good night and closed the door, very quietly.

—

In the morning, I looked at my orange couch—no Sheila. I got up and listened into the hallway, but I didn’t hear Jesse’s radio. I got dressed, packed my bag for school, and went into the living room.