#jay riva

“Nina …” Mick said. “Please don’t say that. I’m trying to explain to you why I wasn’t capable of being a father until now.” Nina shook her head. “If you were any kind of real parent, you would know that capable has nothing to do with it.” Mick frowned at her and sighed. “Do you think Mom felt capable of raising four children on her own? Holding her head up high when the whole world knew you’d left her, twice? Making all of the money, and doing all of the housework, and helping each of us with our homework? Making every single one of our birthdays special despite having no money and no time? Remembering that Jay likes chocolate cake with buttercream and Kit likes coconut cake and Hud likes yellow cake with chocolate frosting? Always having the perfect number of candles? “Do you think I felt capable of taking it all over after she fucking drowned? Do you think I felt capable of trying to pay all the bills and still scraping up enough money for coconut at the fucking Malibu Mart? Do you think I felt capable of holding each one of these guys as they woke up in the middle of the night remembering that they had essentially been orphaned? Do you think I wanted to drop out of high school so I could do it all? That I wanted to be twenty-five years old without a high school diploma?” Mick flinched as he heard this, and when Nina saw the pinched look on his face, it pissed her off. “I didn’t feel capable of any of that! But did that matter? Of course not. So I’ve gotten up every single day since Mom died—and even a lot of the days before that—and I have done what needed to be done. Capable is a question I never had the luxury of asking. Because my family needed me. And unlike you, I understand how important that is.” “Nina—” Mick tried to interject. “You think I want to be here selling photos of my ass and living on this fucking cliff? No, I don’t. I want to be in Portugal somewhere living in a shack on the beach, riding waves and eating the catch of the day. But I don’t. I stay here. That’s what it means to be a family. Staying. Not just strolling into a party after midnight expecting a hug.” “Nina, you’re right. I’m a weak—” “Must be nice. To be able to be weak. I wouldn’t know.”

Sometimes I forget how young June Costas was when her life changed. She was 17 when she met Mick, 19 when she got married and gave birth to Nina, 20 when she had Jay, 20 when Hud showed up, around 21 when Mick first left, maybe 24 when he came back, likely 25 when she gave birth to Kit before Mick left for good, and 34-36 when she died