Better Than Weird (16 page)

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘If everything goes smoothly all the time, we'll never have good stories to tell.'”

Aaron frowned. “I don't get it.”

“You and the fish tank…I just realized I'll be able to tell that story the same way my dad told about falling into the river.”

“So from now on, you won't get mad when I do something wrong?”

“I will so! Don't be doing stuff on purpose.”

For a little while Aaron said nothing. Then: “Your dad, he was a really smart guy.”

“Yeah…” Jeremy took a breath. Then he said, “You're lucky. Your dad came back.”

“I know.”

“Is he nice?”

“Yeah. But maybe he thinks I'm a little weird.”

“Well, you are,” Jeremy said.

“I know.”

They walked back to school together.

TWENTY - FIVE

Mr. Collins turned off the video camera. “That's a wrap,” he said.

“Finally!” Aaron sighed. Mr. Collins had made them rehearse their poem in a different place every day. Once he had Aaron say the poem while he climbed up and down the hallway stairs. Tufan got to sit at the bottom to play his drum, so he didn't mind, but it was exhausting for Aaron.

Other times he had Aaron repeat the poem while he ran laps or bounced a ball. Tufan would have been happy to do any of those things, but they were hard for Aaron. Still, he got to the point where he could say the words no matter what else he was doing.

That's when Mr. Collins explained about adding pauses and using his voice to make the words more interesting. And today he had set up a video camera.

“You're still talking too fast,” Tufan said as they replayed the film.

“Yeah,” Aaron said, “and sometimes I forget to stand still.”

“Sometimes?” Tufan snickered.

“Not to worry,” Mr. Collins cut in. “I have an idea that may help.”

There was a knock on the door.

They all turned. “Who the heck is that?” Tufan mumbled, but Aaron hurried across the room. “Hey, Dad!” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Your gran's been asking for you. I told her I'd come by and pick you up.” He turned to Mr. Collins, who had followed Aaron to the door. “Is that all right?”

“Of course.” The teacher put out his hand. “Dave Collins,” he said.

“Liam Waite,” Aaron's dad said. They shook. Aaron beamed.

“See you on Thursday,” Mr. Collins said as they were leaving.

Aaron's father paused. “Thursday?”

“The concert,” Aaron explained. “I'm going to be in it this year. For you. And Sophie. Sophie can come too.”

“Thursday,” his dad said again. “Well, that's great. We'll be here.”

* * *

As it was, they didn't go to see Gran right away, and by the time they got to the hospital, Aaron was exploding with news.

“Guess what!” he said as they walked into her room. “Yesterday when Dad was out, he was shopping for a computer and a printer and a webcam. And today we bought it. Tonight we're gonna set it all up. And I know how to use everything. I do. I learned how at school. Except the webcam. I don't know how to use that. But Dad's gonna show me. When you come home, I can show you.”

He saw Gran smile at his dad. “So that's what kept you so long,” she said. “I was afraid…”

“Yeah. I know. But I told you. That's never gonna happen again. I've got too much to lose.”

Aaron didn't understand what they were talking about. He was going to ask, but Gran turned to him and said, “It may surprise you to know that after thirty-two years in an office, I know how to use a computer.” Her voice sounded different. Kind of rough and papery.

He pointed at the bandage around her throat. “Does it hurt?” he asked instead.

“Hardly at all,” she rasped. “I can come home the day after tomorrow.” She turned to his dad. “Liam? What about Sophie? How is she?”

“She's fine. The doctor checked her out. He said pregnant women don't balance all that well, but they're not as fragile as they look. She's back at the house, lying down, but she's fine.”

“Does that mean…?” Lines folded across Gran's brow.

“It means that everything can go on as planned.”

“What's planned?” Aaron asked.

“We'll go out for dinner, just you and me,” his dad said. “We'll have a man-to-man talk and I'll fill you in.”

Gran's brow wrinkled again. “Maybe you should wait until I get home.”

“No!” Aaron said. “I'm ready for a man-to-man. I am.”

After that he was eager to leave. His dad was going to fill him in. They would talk. Man-to-man. But when he turned to wave goodbye and saw Gran's face twitch into a smile, he wavered, part of him yearning to stay with her, the other part eager to go with his dad.

* * *

They were seated opposite each other at the pizza place Aaron had chosen for dinner. Now that they were here, he wasn't all that hungry. It was a little noisy. There were three boys about Paul's age at the corner table, talking and laughing.

“I'm famished,” his father said, biting into a large slice overflowing with pepperoni and vegetables.

Aaron stared at his slice. He only liked cheese on his pizza. All this other stuff—he grimaced and picked off a slice of tomato, some olives and onions. His father didn't seem to notice, and he finished his first piece before Aaron even took a bite.

“I hope you know that Sophie really likes you,” his dad said between bites of his second slice. “I was so relieved. I wasn't sure what would happen if she didn't. Or if you didn't like her. I was pretty sure you'd like her. She's amazing, isn't she? You do like her, don't you?”

“Sophie's cool!” Aaron said. He was doing his best to pay attention. He wanted to get this man-to-man talk right.

His dad wiped a serviette into the corners of his mouth. “It's such a relief that your gran's going to be all right,” he said. “I wasn't sure how things would go if she wasn't. Now we won't have to worry when we go back to Dawson.”

In the kitchen, a man pulled a fresh pizza from the oven. One of the boys at the corner table smacked his palm on the table. “No way!” he said. The other boys laughed.

Aaron blinked. He replayed his father's words.
When
we
go back to Dawson.
Is that what he said?
When
we
go back to Dawson.

“Dawson?” Aaron said.

“After next week. Your gran will be able to manage by then. Milly has offered to come by and help out with the groceries and laundry if she needs it. I think we've got everything covered. She's a pretty feisty lady, your gran.”

Aaron pulled an anchovy from his pizza.
Dawson?
“You mean, Gran's not going?” he asked.

“To Dawson? Of course not. She lives here.”

“But…you came home.”

“Because I was worried. That word
cancer
gives me the shivers.”

Aaron's brow wrinkled. This man-to-man talk was confusing.

“You came for Gran?”

“Well, and you too, of course.”

Me too. He came for me. We're going home to Dawson?
Gran's not?

His dad took another bite. Chewed. Drank some water. “I haven't seen you since…well…not for a long time,” he said. “And I felt pretty bad about leaving like that. You get that, don't you?”

Aaron nodded. He thought he understood. Then one of the boys in the corner shouted, “You lie! That's not it at all!” The other boys laughed, and Aaron realized he didn't understand anything. He peered at his father.

“Everything is working out,” his dad was saying. “Sophie got to meet you. And, like I said, it's great that she likes you.” He took a big drink of water, wiped his mouth, looked at his watch. “Eat up, Aaron,” he said. “We still have a lot to do.”

Aaron nibbled at the crust of his pizza. He chewed, swallowed and took a drink from his own water before he had the courage to ask, “And you? Do you like me?”

“Hey! You're my kid. Of course I like you.”

“'Cause I'm your kid?” Aaron paused. “I'm not…” The words he wanted to say were sticking in his throat. He tried again. “You said I'm not what you expected.”

“Oh. You heard that.”

Aaron nodded. “I know I'm weird. Even Jeremy says I'm weird, and he's my friend.”

“Hey! You're not that…” His father stopped. His hands had been folding his serviette into a small square. Now he opened it, smoothed it, then scrunched it into his fist before he let it drop to the table.

Aaron looked at the mashed serviette. “Yeah,” he said. “I'm not.”

There was more laughter from the boys at the corner table.

* * *

That evening Aaron didn't know what to do with himself. His dad was busy setting up the computer in the little alcove in the upstairs hallway. “Step aside,” he told Aaron as he bent to plug cords into the hard drive and the printer.

Aaron took a step back. His father had been working ever since they came back from the restaurant. And ever since he had started unpacking, he had been saying things like, “Don't touch that.”

“You're in my light.”

“Watch it, you'll break that.”

“Just leave that.”

Aaron was confused. Where was the dad who told him he was a handy fellow? The dad who let him help with all those house repairs?

“Don't touch that,” his father warned again as Aaron unfolded a cord. Aaron dropped it to the floor and went downstairs to where Sophie was sitting on the couch beside the fire, the blue quilt across her lap.

“That's mine,” he said, lifting his chin toward the quilt.

“Do you mind sharing?”

Aaron plonked himself down beside her, then sat, ruler straight, as she spread the quilt so that it covered both their knees. For a while they stayed silent and he stared at the flames, but in his mind an argument raged.

This isn't how it's supposed to be,
one side complained.

He came back didn't he?

Yeah, but just like Tufan said, he can't wait to leave
.

He said he's taking you along when he goes.

But what if he doesn't really want me?

He's your dad. He came back. He came back.

For me? Did he come for me?

For Gran. He came for Gran. That's what he said.

But she's staying. He's going back without her.

Maybe I don't want to go. Not without Gran.

“You seem to have a lot going on up here,” Sophie said, tapping Aaron's forehead lightly. Her touch made him jump. He'd forgotten she was there.

“I…I was thinking.”

“I can see that.”

He looked up. Her black hair gleamed in the light of the fire. He couldn't help himself. He reached out, and when he touched it, it flowed between his fingers like dark water. She surprised him then by taking his hand and placing it on the large bump that was her belly. After a bit he jumped and pulled it away. Something under his palm had moved.

“Was that…? Was that the baby?”

She nodded. Then they smiled at each other the way people do when they share a secret.

“Why don't you tell me what's on your mind,” she said softly.

“I've been worried…,” he began, then stopped, not knowing how to go on.

“Start anywhere.”

He took a breath. “How come sometimes my dad is so nice and shows me stuff, and sometimes he says, ‘Get out of my way!' and ‘Don't touch that!'?”

She sighed. “Your dad is a little like most people. He can be patient and kind, and funny and…and loving. But when he has things on his mind, and when he's busy, he can be as grumpy as a hibernating bear. Then it's best to stay out of his way.”

“Like today?”

She smiled. “Just like today.”

“Is he gonna be like that when I come to Dawson with you? 'Cause if he is, then I don't want to go. Then I want to stay here, with Gran.”

For a long moment, Sophie stared at him. “Did your father ask you to come?”

“Yeah. When we had the man-to-man talk. He kept talking about ‘when we go back to Dawson.' But I'm not sure. I'm not sure I want to go without Gran. Will he feel bad if I stay here?”

She hesitated. “I think that's something we should all discuss. It's a big decision, either way.”

Aaron sat. A log shifted in the fireplace. Sparks exploded, flamed, then settled and faded. “Can I ask you something else?” he said.