But none of his children appeared to have budged very much yet. And so he pushed forward. “I’d like us to start over. I want to try again.”

Hud was struck by Mick’s word choice. Try.

“Can I ask a serious question?” Kit asked. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just genuinely don’t understand something.”

“OK,” Mick said. He had stood up and was now resting against the rocks of the cliff.

“Are you in AA? Is this part of your twelve steps or something?” she asked. She could not quite imagine what had prompted all of this. But it might make sense to her if it was in service of something else. If he was here to make himself feel better, to tie up loose ends or something. That she could understand. “I mean, why now? You know? Why not yesterday or last year or six months ago or how about when our mother fucking died?”

“Kit,” Hud said. “Don’t talk like that.”

“But our mother did die,” Kit said. “And he left us to fend for ourselves.”

“Kit!” Jay said. “You asked him a question—let him answer it.”

Mick shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m not in any kind of program that requires me to make amends.”

“Then what are you after?” Kit asked.

“I’m not after anything,” Mick said, defensively. “Why is that so hard to believe? Why don’t my own children understand that I just want us to be a part of each other’s lives?”

Jay spoke up. “That’s not what we’re saying, Da—”

Hud cut him off. “Kit’s just asking what’s changed. Actually I want to know, too. So I guess we’re asking,” he said, his voice becoming softer and yet more focused, “what’s changed?”

Before Mick could answer, Nina’s feet hit the sand.

She hadn’t heard Mick’s apology or his appeals. But she could guess what they entailed. She’d overheard the same things as a child. His talk of having lost his way and owning up to his mistakes and asking for another chance. She didn’t need to see the live show—she’d seen in it previews.

“I’ll tell you what’s changed for him. Nothing,” Nina said.

They all turned toward her. None of them were surprised to see her. They all had more or less hoped she’d find them here. But they were a little taken aback by her sweatpants and her general demeanor. What Nina was this?

“Nothing has changed, right, Dad?” Nina said, looking right at him.

“Hi, Nina-baby,” Mick said, walking to her.

This was his first time seeing her up close as an adult. And he was overcome by the affection he felt for her face.

He saw himself in it—in the lips and the cheekbones and the tanned skin. But he saw June in it, too. He could see her in Nina’s eyes and her brows and nose.

He missed June. He missed her so much. He missed her roast chicken and the way she had always smiled when he walked in the door. He missed the smell of her. The way she loved to love the people around her. Her death had shocked him. He’d always imagined that he could one day come home to her. If she was still alive, he’d be with her right now. He’d have come to her tonight, maybe even sooner.

To look at Nina, as Mick did now, was to have proof that June had lived.

He moved closer to Nina, ready to hug her. But she put her hands up, stopping him. “You’re fine where you are,” she said.

“Nina,” Mick said, aggrieved.

Nina ignored him. “Guys, if you want to know why he’s here, it’s really simple,” she said to her siblings. Then she redirected her attention to her father. “You’re here because you want to be, right?” she asked him. “Because you woke up this morning and you got a wild hair up your ass to try to be a decent guy.”

Mick flinched. “That is absolutely not—”

“Hold up,” she said. “I’m not done.” She continued, her voice strong and rising. “It’s awfully convenient that you’re suddenly interested in us once we’re all adults, once we no longer need anything from you.”

“I told you that’s not—”

“I said I wasn’t done.”

“Nina, I am your—”

“You are fucking nothing.”

Kit’s mouth dropped and Jay’s and Hud’s eyes went wide. The three of them watched their father’s face as he moved through stages of shock. The air carried only the sounds of the crashing waves in front of them and the light cacophony of the party above.

Nina spoke again. “You are a big somebody to the world, Dad. We all know that. We live with it every goddamn day. But let’s be clear about one thing, you are not anybody’s father.”

Kit looked at Nina, trying to catch her eye. But Nina would not break her gaze. She stared only at Mick.

It would not be her that bent and broke anymore.

Casey left the bedroom and started walking down the stairs. She was restless and didn’t know what to do with herself.

She walked past a couple making out so aggressively that she couldn’t be sure they weren’t having sex. But she was almost positive both of them were anchors on the nightly news and she resolved to never watch Channel 4 again.

When she got to the living room, she saw a group of people swinging from the chandelier like they were swashbucklers. Just as two people grabbed on and let it fly, the entire thing came off the ceiling, plaster and crystal covering the floor and the table and the heads of everyone underneath it.

There was a hole where the chandelier had been, exposing the inner frame of the house.

Casey reversed course. As she started to move through the dining room on her way to the kitchen, she noticed a vase had been shattered and two paintings had fallen off the wall.

When she finally made her way into the kitchen, she saw the floor was covered in tiny shards of chips and crackers that had been crushed under dancing feet. Empty wine bottles were rolling around on the ground. Two grown men sat on the island countertop, washing their feet in the sink.

“My editor says he thinks my manuscript could be the defining novel of the MTV Generation,” one of them said.

As the two of them hopped off the counter and left the room, Casey got to work. She stood next to the stove, stacking empty trays, using a sponge to wipe up crumbs. Her mother had always tidied the house when she felt out of sorts. She remembered that her father had known to ask her mother what was wrong when he found her cleaning the drum of the washing machine.

The world may have taken her parents but—as cruel as it was—at least it had left her the memory of them. It did not rob her of the ability to remember Memorial Day 1980 at Dodger Stadium, when her father spilled mustard on his shirt and then laughed and squirted some on hers so he wouldn’t be the only one. It had not stolen the scent of Wind Song that her mother used to wear or how their home always smelled like Pine-Sol. It could not take away her father’s many pairs of reading glasses, left all over the house, collecting, disappearing, and reproducing.

Casey knew that, in a few years, the memories would begin to fade. She might forget whether her father had spilled mustard or ketchup. She might lose the ability to recall the exact smell of Wind Song. She might even forget about the reading glasses altogether after a while, as much as it pained her to admit it.