Marrying Daisy Bellamy (16 page)

“W
e're sorry, Ms. Bellamy,” said Mr. Jamieson, the director of the MoMA Emerging Artists program. “We won't be featuring your work this year. The competition was very, very fierce.” He slid the packet of application materials and the portfolio of originals across the desk to Daisy.

Seated in the bright, cluttered office in midtown Manhattan, she tried to maintain her dignity. She'd known this was coming; the bad news had arrived via email the day before. Still, all the way down to Manhattan on the train, she had entertained a fantasy that the editorial board would change its mind. We've made a terrible mistake in judgment, they would say. There's no way we can conduct this year's show without your work.

She should have deleted the email and carried on. Instead, she'd decided to come and collect her portfolio in person and spend the day with Sonnet. She'd tried sharing her disappointment with Logan, but he simply didn't understand. “No big deal,” he'd said. “Move on.”

“Ms. Bellamy?” The director spoke kindly, drawing
her back to the present. The sounds of Manhattan—honks, shouts, whistles, sirens—filled the air outside.

“I understand,” she said, taking care to appear cool and professional. “I'm grateful for your consideration.”

“You have many fans here, and you have ever since your original submission a few years back. It was a tough decision. You're very close.”

Good to know, she mused.
Close
.

“I hope you'll submit again for next year's show. Persistence pays. It's trite, I know. In your case, it's true. Many of the artists accepted have gone through the submissions process multiple times.”

“I'll certainly keep that in mind.” Rejection was part of the process, Daisy told herself. She'd always known that. From her first Kodak Kids prize in the third grade, she'd been keenly aware that when you made art and put it out there, people judged you, and it was completely subjective.

Her entry had been a shot she'd taken of her friend's tabby cat, perfectly silhouetted on the windowsill, its tail a question mark echoed by the shape of a tree branch outside the window. It had placed second, and one judge had noted that many people were allergic to animals. The best shot in the world of a cat wasn't going to impress someone who didn't like cats.

“On a personal note, I want you to know, I'm one of those fans,” said Mr. Jamieson. “I've seen quite a lot of growth in your work from the previous submission to this one. This portfolio is more mature, and the point of view is stronger. It's a good deal darker in tone.”

Losing the love of your life will do that to a girl, she thought.

She met Sonnet by the UN, and they headed downtown on the subway for lunch in Chinatown.

“They're nuts,” said Sonnet, when Daisy told her the results of this year's jury. “Completely batty. They ought to be begging you for material.”

“Thanks,” Daisy said. “I'm not going to let myself get depressed.”

“Good for you. Next year's coming up before you know it.”

Daisy tried not to think about all the hours and hours of work and focus and concentration it was going to take to put together another portfolio. Many people believed taking pictures was a matter of point and shoot. They didn't consider what it was like to wait in the freezing cold for the light to reach a certain quality, or to spend hours laboring over an image to elevate it into an expression of her art.

“I'll be okay,” Daisy said. “Tell me something good. How's work? How's life?”

“Work is amazing,” Sonnet said, and her face was filled with light. “Work is my life.”

“Try to remember to have both, okay?”

“Easier said than done. My hours are insane and I never know what's happening next. I've made some great friends at work, and we go out when we can.”

“Anybody special?”

“Oh, don't get me started on guys.”

“I figured you'd be meeting all kinds of cool, exotic foreign guys at the UN.”

Sonnet stabbed her fork at a kalamata olive. “I'm meeting them all the time. I don't know about ‘exotic,' though. I'm still looking. I went out with a Finn who was gorgeous, but he was all over me after one drink. It did give me a chance to practice my self-defense skills and I'm happy to report that they work quite well.”

“Really? Did you make a scene?”

“No. I have to watch myself, because of the job. My
duties require me to ‘demonstrate integrity by modeling the UN values and ethical standards,'” she recited. “Anyway, he was too embarrassed and he walked away. A good outcome. Oh, and then I went out with this guy from Ghana but he had issues.”

“What kind of issues?”

“OCD, I think. He was constantly cleaning his hands with disinfectant gel and knocking his fists on the table. And a guy from the Latvian delegation asked me out, but he looks like a troll and drinks like a fish. Where the hell are all the normal guys?”

“In fairy tales. Disney cartoons.”

Sonnet heaved a sigh. “Exactly. There's a reason Disney's
Tarzan
is my favorite movie. So how about you? How's the dating going?”

“Surprisingly well.”

Sonnet leaned forward. “Really? That's great. Anyone special?”

Daisy hesitated. “Actually, yes. I'm seeing Logan.”

“Logan O'Donnell? Get
out
.”

Sonnet had been in the loop from the start, ever since they were teenagers. She had seen Daisy arrive in Avalon, still dreaming about her summer with Julian. She'd been one of the first to learn Daisy's crushing news that she was pregnant. And she had witnessed the fallout from the Logan-versus-Julian smack down. Daisy had sworn after that incident that she was through with them, and probably with men in general. So much for keeping that vow. She'd gotten engaged to one guy and now was dating the other.

“We were set up,” she explained. “By Olivia. She sent us on a blind date and it worked out…really well.”

“How well?”

Daisy flushed and glanced away.

“Thank God,” said Sonnet. “You're finally getting laid.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“That's a relief. I was worried you'd
never
get any action. So how's it going?”

“Well, it's…nice. Extremely nice.”

The new relationship with Logan had been an awakening for Daisy. Finally she felt herself shedding the hurt and grief of the past, and when she looked to the future, the days ahead were colored by hope.

“What's going to happen?” Sonnet asked.

“I don't know. We're being really low-key about it because of Charlie. Don't want to give him weird mixed signals. Something's happening, though. And it feels good.”

“Well. I hardly know what to say.”

“You'll think of something.”

“I've always respected Logan. I mean, you guys didn't exactly travel the standard route to starting a family, but he stepped up and took responsibility, and he's been a really good dad. I have to say, I'm liking this.” Sonnet polished off her salad.

“Me, too.”

They paid their tab and went for a walk in the city, wandering over to historic Orchard Street for the shops. “I love it here so much,” Daisy said, inhaling the New York smells of exhaust, garbage, coffee and food from the street corner carts. The energetic bustle of pedestrians and the buzz of excitement in the air was such a contrast to the placid serenity of Avalon. There was a sense of things happening here, of life moving forward.

“You should visit more often,” Sonnet said.

“I should. I'll try to do that.”

They shopped the funky sidewalk markets and
boutiques in search of something cheap but perfect. For Sonnet, it was a ruby-red fringed shawl that she said would be ideal for long meetings in the chilly glass-and-steel conference rooms of the UN. And for Daisy, a pair of delicate chandelier earrings that were completely impractical but so pretty she had to have them. At a book stall, Sonnet picked out a volume of Persian poetry, saying she had no time to read a novel or memoir. Daisy selected the latest by Robert Dugoni, her favorite thriller writer. Reading was her way to unwind and go to sleep at night. Perversely, the more disturbing the story, the better she slept.

Although, lately she had a new way of unwinding—making love with Logan and then falling asleep in his arms. Yet she still wasn't ready to commit to him and didn't want to confuse Charlie, so they had to sneak around as if they were still teenagers, and Logan had to slip out before dawn. Sometimes she wished he could stay, but she still hadn't decided what to tell Charlie.

“How is Zach these days?” Sonnet asked, her tone self-consciously casual.

“I wondered when you'd get around to asking.” Daisy had always sensed the attraction between the two of them. They were both quick to deny it, but that didn't make them any less attracted to one another. “Zach is great,” she said. “Same as always.”

“Is he seeing anyone?”

“Not unless you count staring at your picture.”

“Really? He stares at my picture?”

“Incessantly.”

“Is it a good shot?”

“Not the same as seeing you in person,” Daisy said. “You should come for a visit.”

“I
want to explain us to Charlie,” Logan said to Daisy. It was something he'd been thinking about for a while. Things were going well with them and he wanted to take this—whatever it was—to the next level. “We've been together long enough to know this is not a fluke. It's time.” He took care to speak in a reasonable tone. Not pushy or aggressive. He'd tried that with her in the past, and it never worked. When he pushed, Daisy pushed back.

Now she surprised him by saying, “I've been trying to figure out an explanation myself. He knows we've been, um, hanging out a lot.”

Logan slipped his arm around her, his confidence lifting. “Not as much as I'd like. So how about we level with him over dinner tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“The sooner, the better. Once Charlie understands, we can finally come out as a couple.”

She sighed. “That would be…great. Yes, I think we should tell him. It's been strange, trying to act as if nothing is going on.”

Logan felt a wave of relief. This was going to go well. It was something he had focused on for a long time, and finally he could see a future for them.

“Tell you what,” he said. “We'll take him swimming at the park after work. We can explain it to him then.”

Her eyes darted away, then returned to him. “All right. That will be the plan.”

 

They met later at Blanchard Park, which had a busy swimming area with a beach and a dock. Charlie was overjoyed to go swimming. Kids were running around everywhere, chasing beach balls, playing tag, rushing out into the cool, clear lake water.

Daisy had brought along an old blanket and some towels and Blake on her leash. Logan and Blake had settled into a mode of mutual tolerance. Neither was terribly enamored with the other, but they were part of the same family, and they were about to get a lot closer. Daisy spread the blanket under a tree and tethered the dog. Blake trotted around as if patrolling the perimeter.

“Ready for a swim, my man?” Logan asked Charlie.

“Yes.” Charlie peeled off his T-shirt.

“Hang on,” Daisy said. “Sunscreen. Even though it's late in the day, you could still burn.”

Charlie submitted, presenting his back to her and stretching out his arms like a martyr.

“Trust me,” Logan said, “sunscreen is better than a sunburn. I once got a sunburn so bad it made blisters.”

“Yikes,” said Charlie, turning to Daisy and screwing up his face while she applied more cream.

“Yikes is right. You and I both have the same pale skin and believe me, it does not like the sun.”

“Why do we have pale skin?”

“It's the Irish O'Donnell in us—white skin and freckles. Contributes to our manly appearance.” He struck a body builder pose, which Charlie instantly emulated.

Charlie was big for his age, with a taut, strong body and plenty of physical coordination. With his fiery red hair and light spray of freckles across his nose, he was all O'Donnell. Logan was proud of the resemblance, but he tempered his pride with caution. Attaching all your pride and expectations to a kid could be toxic. He was proof of that, for sure, trashing his knee just so his dad could see him play in a damn high school soccer match. Glancing down at the sickle-shaped scar, he could still feel the blazing fountain of pain that had erupted from his knee. And still he'd managed to score the victory goal and savor the expression of blissful pride in his father's face. Had it been worth it?

A quiet, dysfunctional voice in his head whispered,
Yes
. He kind of hated it that making his dad happy trumped keeping his own freaking knee. The Oxy pills had made it all easier to bear—the fiery physical agony as well as the need to escape his father's emotional hold on him. And thus the cycle had gone, a cycle he was determined
not
to repeat with his own son.

Logan peeled off his golf shirt, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness about his thickening waistline. Damn desk job.

“Something wrong?” asked Daisy.

“Just thinking I need to get to the gym more often.”

Her face softened and she slipped her arms around him. “Stop it. You're just right. You look like a young Russell Crowe to me.”

“I assume that's a good thing?”

“A very good thing.” Stepping back, she shrugged out
of the oversized shirt she was wearing, and he forgot all his complaints. He forgot everything.

He must've made an involuntary sound, because she sent him a teasing grin. “Behave.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Ready?” Charlie asked, jumping up and down.

They each took hold of one of his hands and ran together into the water, Charlie squealing with delight.

“Watch, Momdad, watch me swim,” Charlie ordered, gesturing for them to make room. He'd been in swimming lessons at the community aquatic center and had recently been promoted from pollywog to minnow. His strokes were squirmy and a little desperate, but he crossed the distance between his parents several times before getting winded.

“That's amazing, bud,” Logan said. “You the man.”

“Yeah, I'm the man.” He beat his chest, caveman style, but nearly sank in the process.

“They haven't worked on treading water in his swim class,” Daisy pointed out, grabbing his little white arm.

In the shallows, they chased each other and splashed around. This was the best part of having a kid—being able to cut loose and have fun, without a care in the world. Logan knew he'd become a father way too young, but he had grown into the role. He'd been clean and sober for years, and his biggest motivation was right here, this squirming, laughing, forty-pound ball of energy.

And things were going so damn well with Daisy. For the first time in a long time, Logan dared to believe they could be a family. He caught Daisy's eye, and they shared a smile that was full of promise.

Charlie slowed down a little to watch some kids
running to the end of the dock and jumping in. Logan recognized the longing in the kid's expression.

“You want to do that?” he asked Charlie. “You want to jump off the dock?”

Charlie shook his head and grabbed Daisy's hand.

“Come on,” Logan cajoled. “I can tell you want to.”

Charlie shook his head more vigorously and clung harder.

What are you, a chicken shit? Logan's father's voice jeered in his head. Quit being a baby.

Logan shoved the nagging memory into a dark corner of his mind. That was his father's way, not his.

“We can go together,” he said. “I'll hang on to you, buddy.”

“No,” said Charlie. “I'm going to wait for Daddy-boy.”

The lake water turned to ice. That was how it felt to Logan, anyway. Daisy wore a look of such naked emotional pain that he felt it, too.

She quickly recovered and said, “I told you about Julian. He's not coming back.”

“Then how will I ever jump?”

Logan couldn't believe the kid still remembered him. In Charlie's world, a week was an eternity, and Julian had been gone a lot longer than that.

Daisy offered a helpless shrug.

“Tell you what,” Logan said, pushing past the tense moment, “let's talk about dinner.”

“Dinner!” Charlie's face lit up.

“I was thinking the Tastee Freeze.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Charlie leapfrogged for joy in the shallows.

Daisy laughed. “Good job, Logan.”

“Tell me you don't like the Tastee Freeze.”

“Are you kidding? Everybody loves it. Charlie most of all.”

“Let's get dried off and go.”

One of the chief virtues of the place was that it was a drive-in. Totally old-school, with roller-skating carhops, trays that hooked onto the car windows. Each parking bay had an illustrated menu with buttons that lit up when you pushed them to order something.

And order they did—burgers, curly fries, milk shakes, a dinosaur-themed kid's tray for Charlie, cones of soft-serve for dessert.

“Now this,” Charlie declared, “is awesome.”

Daisy and Logan laughed. It was cool to hear the kid talking like an adult.

“Promise me you won't get carsick on the way home,” Logan said.

“Pinky swear,” Charlie said, holding out his small, sticky hand.

 

Charlie told Logan he didn't understand why he needed a bath if he'd been swimming, but Logan coaxed him into the tub with the promise of a few minutes of Xbox before bed. Even while he gave the kid a bath, then hurried him into his Yankees pajamas, Logan could sense a peculiar tension in the house.

They still needed to tell Charlie about their new relationship. The conversation was long overdue. Daisy was going to do most of the talking.

Charlie stood on his step stool and brushed his teeth in a hurry. “Okay, I'm ready for Xbox.”

“Sure,” said Logan, carrying him piggyback into the living room. “Your mom and I want to tell you something first.”

“Will it be quick?”

“I don't know. I guess it can be if you listen real well.”

Daisy patted the sofa beside her. “Come here, you.”

Charlie clambered up and Logan settled on his other side. Logan was surprised to feel a prickle of nervousness in his chest. What if the kid didn't like the idea of a guy horning in on his mom? Maybe there was something to this Freudian crap about boys being subconsciously jealous of their mothers. What if the kid brought up Julian again? What if—

“Hey, Charlie,” Daisy said in a cheery voice. “You know how much you like it when your dad comes around and does stuff with you?”

“Uh-huh. Like Xbox.”

“And swimming and going for ice cream and being around the house. You seem to like that a lot.”

“Yep.”

“Well, it turns out I like it, too. I like being a family with you and your dad.”

“Like the Three Bears,” Charlie said.

“Right. And, um, I also like being with your dad even when you're not around. We are, uh, kind of like boyfriend and girlfriend. Do you know what that means?”

“Yup. Kissing and loooove.” He started jiggling his foot with impatience.

“Wow. I guess you know more than I thought.”

Logan jumped in, sensing Charlie was getting antsy. “We wanted to make sure that's all right with you, if your mom and I have some kissing and love.”

“It's okay.” He jiggled the other foot.

“And suppose we have a sleepover?” Logan said. “Is that okay, too?”

“I like sleepovers,” said Charlie.

“I meant, the kind of sleepover where I sleep in the bed with your mom.”

“Sometimes I sleep with Mom,” Charlie said with a slight frown.

“You can still do that,” Logan said. “Sometimes.”

“Okay.”

“So you're good with me and your dad being together,” Daisy said.

“Okay. I'm ready for Xbox.”

Logan grinned at Daisy over their son's head. It was hard to tell how much Charlie had taken in and how much he'd actually understood.

Time would tell.