April & Oliver (21 page)

There is something familiar about April’s posture. The gesture and tone of voice register deeply in Oliver’s memory. Buddy.
He was the one who taught the dog to catch, who nuzzled her in exactly that way. Oliver watches, mesmerized.

Bernadette appears with ice. “Did Brad get you home all right the other night?” she asks, touching April’s back.

April nods without looking up.

“He didn’t harass you, I hope.”

“Nope.”

“He asked me if you were seeing anyone, and I said I wasn’t sure.”

“Pardon?” April rubs the dog’s chin.

“The guy you brought to our barbecue.”

Oliver looks up from the grill. April stops petting the dog, and for Oliver the spell is broken, Buddy gone. “No,” she says.
“Is there anything that needs doing around here?”

“We’re all set,” Bernadette answers.

“Rose,” Al calls, beckoning her with his finger. “Ten bucks says I can beat you at ten laps, even though I’m winded.”

April has her arms around her middle, a bit hunched. “I’m not in the mood, Al.”

“Turning me down? Don’t break my heart.”

She kicks off her sandals and sits at the edge of the pool with her feet in the water. Al swims over and puts his hands on
her knees. They speak more softly now. Oliver cannot hear. He sees April put her index finger against her temple, and with
an exasperated laugh pull an imaginary trigger.

Oliver leaves the coals to kindle on their own and lies in a lawn chair. He puts his sunglasses on and looks at the pool where
April is undressing. Beneath her clothes, she wears a sky-blue one-piece swimsuit, surprisingly conservative. He glances at
Quincy and sees that he is also watching. She dives in.

Al gets a jump on her. He has the stronger stroke, but April is quicker at the turnarounds. The turbulence in the pool attracts
everyone’s attention. Oliver’s father folds his arms across his chest, smiling at the race. Bernadette watches in silence.

When April wins, she raises her fist.

Al comes up behind her, puts his arms around her neck, and pulls her under. Oliver’s father laughs, waving his hand, and then
turns back to Quincy. Oliver continues to watch. Al tries to force April under, but she has his hair in her fist. If Oliver
didn’t know better, he might think they were trying to kill each other. Al lifts April across his shoulders and she shrieks.
At that moment the dog leaps to her feet and rushes to the side gate.

April and Al stop and look at the dog, who is barking savagely at the gate. Holding a bag of hamburger buns, Bernadette comes
out of the house and looks around at the commotion. April hauls herself out of the pool and grabs a towel.

“Is someone here?” Oliver’s father calls.

On the opposite side of the gate stands a large man with his palms up in surrender to the dog. Oliver’s father grasps Cricket’s
collar and pats the back of her neck where the fur stands on end. “Sh,” he says. “You’re okay, girl.” The dog crouches reluctantly,
flattening her ears. “Don’t worry about her,” Hal says to the man. “She’s all bark.” He reaches for the latch. “You must be
here for the estimate. I didn’t expect you until Monday.”

The man takes off his Mets hat and crushes it in his hands. “No, actually. I’m a friend of April’s.”

Oliver sees the surprise register on his father’s face. He stops, hand on the latch.

“Name’s T.J.,” the man says, extending his hand. Hal hesitates, then shakes it with a backward glance at April, who stands
cocooned inside her towel, a puddle of water forming at her feet.

No, Dad
, Oliver thinks, watching his father. But the gate swings open and T.J. enters the yard. Cricket sniffs at his pant leg with
a low growl. As T.J. gets down on his knee to pet her, Oliver feels queasy. But Cricket, always a sucker, is already on her
back.

April stands in front of him, glaring down.

He glances up at her, squinting, then straightens to his full height so that she has to tilt her head back to look him in
the face. “Well,” he says meekly. “You always said you wanted me to meet your folks.”

She puts her hand on her forehead, shaking her head incredulously.

“I’m here to show you I don’t have nothing to hide. I won’t stay long, but go ahead, call if you want. I’m not about to go
running.”

April turns and strides into the house.

T.J. looks after her doubtfully, then turns his attention to the others, who stare back in awkward astonishment. Oliver thinks
T.J. will follow April inside, but instead he makes his way cautiously to a lawn chair and sits down beside Quincy. Al comes
over and pulls up a chair directly in front of him, so that their knees nearly touch.

“Hey there, big guy,” he says. “Name’s Al.”

“Allen Night.” T.J. smirks. “I read your stuff.”

“Not a fan, I take it.”

“You’re okay,” T.J. says. “But you focus too much on the coaching.”

Al lets out a snort of a laugh. “Well, thanks for the tip.”

April steps out of the house. She looks at T.J. and Quincy sitting beside each other, Al in T.J.’s face, and hesitates.

“Come on, Rosie,” Al says, pulling a chair beside him and patting the seat. “Join the stimulating conversation.”

Instead, April sits down beside Oliver. He feels oddly gratified. She shivers hard beneath her towel. He resists the urge
to touch her arm.

“So, T.J., what do you do for a living?” Al asks. “A sports critic, perhaps?”

“Repairman,” T.J. says. “Electronics mostly, but I can fix almost anything. Vacuums, lawn mowers. Always loved broken stuff,
especially the ones people say can’t be fixed.”

“That must make you a popular guy.”

“I can always find a job, if that’s what you mean.”

Al nods. “So, Mister Fix-it, where you from?”

“Born in the Bronx,” T.J. says evenly. “Moved out to Utah when I was seventeen.”

“Ah. How’d you fare out there, with all those scrub-faced Mormons?”

T.J. stiffens. “You talking about my face?” he says, touching his ear.

“I wasn’t,” Al says, surprised. “But we can.”

“No.” April leans forward in her seat to let Al know he’s going too far.

“It’s all right,” T.J. says. “You want to know what happened to my face?”

The group stares in silence. Quincy laughs nervously. “Well, this has been entertaining,” he says, standing. “But Pam is expecting
me for dinner.”

Hal gets up to walk out with Quincy, who waves without turning back to look.

“Don’t stop now,” Al says to T.J.

“My old man was drunk, like usual,” T.J. says. “He got it into his head that my mom had someone on the side, but it wasn’t
true. I knew because she spent every free minute with me.” His voice wavers, nearly breaking, and in that instant April gets
out of her seat and slips into the one vacated by Quincy, right beside T.J. In the four steps it takes for her to move from
one seat to another, Oliver feels miles elapse, years pass. All at once she is impossibly far from him.

“My dad, he wanted to teach my mom a lesson,” T.J. continues. “So he set fire to what she loved best.”

Al studies T.J., deciding something. “So, he burned the house down, is that it?”

“No. He took me out to the alley and put a lighter to my pajamas. Didn’t take but a second.” When no one says anything, he
adds, “I guess he didn’t want to wreck the furniture.”

Al runs his hand over his mouth and chin thoughtfully. “Quite a story.”

“He was madder than hell, too, ’cause he’d won the Trifecta the day before and never got to cash in his ticket, seeing as
how he was arrested.”

April is leaning forward, elbows on knees, her face hidden in her hands.

“And your mom?” Al manages.

“Died of an overdose four months later,” he says. “She missed him, if you can believe that.”

April drags her fingers down her face and puffs out a long breath. “Okay, T.J. Time to go.” She stands.

T.J. stands and so does Al. “Tough breaks,” Al says, hands on his hips.

“Stuff happens to all of us,” T.J. answers. “I just got mine early on.”

“I hope things get better for you.”

“They have.”

“And by the way, you come around looking for April again, my brother and I are going to break your legs.”

T.J. studies Al, then gives Oliver a cursory glance. “I think she’s old enough to decide for herself.”

“She goes back to you one more time, we’re going to break hers, too,” Al says.

“Gee,” T.J. says. “That’s real touching.”

“Stop it, Al,” April says, slapping his shoulder. “Go on, T.J.”

They walk toward the gate. “Let’s have a beer somewhere,” T.J. says to her.

“No.”

“Look,” he says more quietly. “I don’t care what happens. I just want you to believe me.” T.J. is still talking as they pass
out of view.

Oliver stares at the gate, listening as T.J.’s pickup roars to life. He feels Bernadette looking at him. He reaches for her
hand, shaking his head. Her face softens then. She pats his hand. Al claps his hands loudly, looking after the closed gate.
“That’s our girl,” he says.

“Do you think she called the police when she went inside?” Oliver asks.

“April? Defend herself?” Al says. “Besides, they’d be here by now.”

“Maybe we should call.”

“If there’s no protection order anymore, he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

A moment later, April reappears alone. She rushes through the gate and slaps it closed behind her, ignoring the dog prancing
beside her.

“Sure can pick ’em, Rose,” Al calls.

April casts him a savage look and disappears into the house.

Al gets up to follow her.

“No,” Hal says firmly. “This is hard enough for her without you making it worse. Bernadette, why don’t you go? See if she’s
all right.”

Bernadette rises uncertainly and slips into the house. Oliver stares after her. Not until he feels his father’s hand on his
shoulder does he realize how tense his muscles are. “She’ll be okay,” his father says, but Oliver hears the worry in his voice.

“She doesn’t know how to take care of herself,” Al says. “Of all the men she could choose, she picks
this
dude?”

“It’s pretty clear to me that it’s over,” Hal says. “She knows it even if T.J. doesn’t.”

“There will be another one,” Al says. “You’ll see.”

“Give her a chance,” Hal says.

Oliver glances in through the back door. Bernadette’s arm is around April’s shoulder, the bay window before them. April blows
her nose. Bernadette runs her hand down the long, dark sheath of April’s hair, saying things he cannot hear. Then they hug.

Oliver stares, transfixed. It’s a long embrace. He thinks he ought to be moved, but instead feels unsettled. Finally, April
pulls back, wiping her eyes. She nods at something Bernadette has said and picks up her things to leave.

“Where are you off to, sweetheart?” Hal says as she enters the yard.

“I told some friends from the bar I’d go see the fireworks with them,” she says. “Uncle Hal, I’m sorry about this. I had no
idea.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

“Another scene. I’m two for two.”

“It wasn’t a scene. We’re only worried about you, April. What about reinstating the protection order?”

“I think he understands now,” she says. “But yeah, I’ll do it in the morning.”

Hal hugs her. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

She waves good-bye to Al and Oliver in a general way without looking at them. Once she’s gone, Al says to his father, “What
do you think that promise is worth?”

Hal turns to him. “Do you forget that she helped take care of your mother when she was dying?” He lowers his voice. “Do you
forget that she was cooking dinner for her family when she was nine years old? Can you show me a more responsible person than
that?”

“I’m not saying she’s not a good person, Dad. I’m saying she has no common sense.”

“No, you’re saying she’s not good for her word, and I’m saying she is.”

“Even if she goes to the police in the morning,” Oliver says. “What about between now and then?”

“She said she’ll be with friends,” Hal says. “Didn’t she?”

Oliver folds his arms and decides not to comment. There’s no point in further worrying his father, though it’s pretty clear
to Oliver that April isn’t headed for fireworks.

O
LIVER PARKS IN FRONT
of Bernadette’s apartment building, motor running.

“You were preoccupied today,” Bernadette says, touching his arm.

“It was a weird day, wasn’t it,” he says, shaking his head.

“I mean even before T.J. showed up.”

He looks at her.

“What’s your problem with Quincy?”

He raises his eyebrows, hesitating.

She smiles. “Veiled in Saran Wrap, that’s you.”

He laughs uncertainly.

“Don’t worry. It’s a virtue. Now what about Quincy?”

“Well, what do you see?”

“You’re cold toward him.”

He looks out the driver’s-side window. “I never liked him, even as a kid. I can’t explain it.”

“I didn’t know there was anyone you didn’t like.”

“If I don’t care for someone, I try to keep it to myself, apparently not very well.” He turns to look at her. “What else does
the Saran Wrap show?”

“You’re worried about April.”

He sighs. “Aren’t we all?”

“But you, especially.”

He rubs his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a spillover from my father. He’s always felt responsible for April and Buddy.
Their parents, well, they weren’t bad people, they just never checked in when it came to parenting.”

“Why don’t you give April a call? She’s welcome to stay with me tonight.”

“She’s out with friends, at least she said so.”

“You know, Oliver, I didn’t get the feeling that T.J. was an imminent threat. This may sound strange, but I was impressed
by his honesty.”

He looks at her to see if she is serious.

“Well, he’s not self-pitying. You’ve got to give him that.”

“Before Buddy died, she got a protection order against T.J. Whatever he did to prompt that is enough for me. I’m sorry about
his childhood, but not that sorry.”