One Small Thing (18 page)

“It’s different. I mean, she talks about that time with me. A lot,” Dan said, thinking of how the conversation usually started with, “When my mom checked out.” He wouldn’t tell that to Isabel, at least tonight. “But I really don’t know anything about Walt.”

“She was his favorite. I know I shouldn’t say it, but it’s the truth. She was the baby. Our last chance to do it right. We were struggling a bit financially when we had the first two, but that four years between Loren and Avery made all the difference. He would come home from work and pick her up, sit at the kitchen table with her on his lap and feed her Chex mix. When she started school, he wanted to know everything she did. He must have gone over hundreds of pages of homework. She looks just like him, you know. Same face, same eyes.”

Dan shook his head. He thought of the photo of Isabel’s three girls on the living room couch, in order of age and height, Mara, Loren, Avery. “I always imagined Mara would have been his favorite. Didn’t she get the best grades from what? Kindergarten? A doctor from the get-go?”

“Yes, she did get good grades. Oh, my, did she. She studied at night when she was in the third grade. I couldn’t get her to play. But no, it was Avery. Maybe it was because he was older, softer, knew what to do. I certainly did. Or at least I thought I did. But after he died.” Isabel stopped and pulled Dan to the edge of the thick lawn, letting another couple pass by them. Cool air rose from the lawn and pressed against their faces. “After he died I realized I didn’t know how to do a thing. I didn’t know how to get up in the morning. How to make a cup of tea. Everything was so hard, so I let it all go. The girls just survived, somehow. Even now, when I fall asleep, it’s the first thing I think about. Those two years. The ones that made Avery who she is.”

They walked out of the park and back onto the sidewalk that would lead to Dan’s Lexus. The streetlights had come on, buzzing as they pulsed bright. “It’s not your fault, Isabel. Look at me. When I was in high school and then after especially, I did things . . . Look, I could sit down and blame my parents for whatever, you know. My dad for being too hard on us, my mom for not standing up to some of his punishments. I mean, once I was grounded for two months. For getting an F in pre-algebra. It’s not like I don’t think about it, but how I ended up—with Randi and all—is not their fault. It’s not your fault that Avery acts the way she does. I think we come out wired a certain way, that’s all. Or things or people--” For an instant, Dan saw Randi walking ahead of them, the back of her knees so smooth, her feet tiny in her high-heeled sandals. “They help us do the things that are inside, right or wrong.”

“It could be we’re wired to be a certain way, but what happens to us—that can change us. That can make us who we are. Avery’s dad dying, my slump, your dad’s feelings. All those things come together.”

“Then we can change. I changed. Or, maybe I just hid. Maybe that’s all Avery did. Hide. She hid from her father’s death, you, and now me.”

“Oh, my, Dan,” Isabel said. “Yes, she changed. Walt’s death and my slump were what pushed her forward. It’s so hard to see your child change because of something you did.”

“What you did, but also who she is inside,” he said, knowing that his own son, his Daniel, the boy with a baseball cap sliding down his skinny head, a fighter, a poor learner, was who he was because Dan walked down the apartment steps and into his packed-to-the-brim Ford Taurus. He knew what Isabel was saying, and he hoped the change in Avery and Daniel wasn’t permanent.

“So what should I do?” Dan asked. “How do I make her see that no one could have put this on a list?”

Isabel walked on, her face down, her arm through Dan’s. “Who am I to tell you?”

“Just what do you think?” He felt some of Avery’s impatience, a flick on the corner of his lips, and then breathed and held her arm tighter.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Well, I think—I think you need to go on. That’s all the advice I can give you. It’s what I did. Make this work with your boy. Fix up his room and visit him. Get to know him. Bring him home. Somehow, Avery will see that it’s not like when her Dad died. It’s life, Dan. Life.”

He couldn’t speak, so he nodded. Life. It was life. It was what wouldn’t happen in Avery’s womb. It was more, not less. It was fuller, not smaller. All he had to do was open his arms and pull it in. If only Avery could. If only he could bring both Daniel and Avery back to him. This was what he had to talk about with Bret Parish when he had his appointment Friday. All this fear, all this need.

“And Dan,” Isabel said.

“Yeah?”

“You might not want me, but I want to be there. For you. For Daniel. When you go to buy the bed, I want to come. I want to help paint the room. I want to be a part of this new life. Okay?”

He nodded, his tongue thick with thanks he couldn’t speak. He squeezed her arm, and he and his mother-in-law walked down the street toward his car, moths and May flies looping the lights like satellites, the moon hanging yellow and heavy on the hills.

SEVEN

When the Bayporter van pulled up in front of the house, Avery saw her mother’s Camry parked out front. Inside, all the lights were on, the house like a birthday cake on the dark street.

“You have some party in there, Miss,” the van driver said, opening his door and sliding out.

Avery waited for him to open her door as the Bayporter drivers always did, and then she stood at the back doors as he took out her single, black suitcase.

“Thanks,” she said, pressing a fifteen dollar tip into his hand.

“It is nothing. Thank you for using Bayporter, Miss.”

As he drove away, Avery rolled her suitcase up the driveway toward the garage, her stomach like a clay bowl, heavy, hard, and holding her organs uncomfortably. She had to pee, and she felt dirty, miles of air spread over her skin.

After Dan had called to tell her that Daniel was his, she hadn’t talked much to her husband, the couple conversations tense and short and awkward. It had been wonderful to hang up after a minute or two, lay back in the soft bed, and watch shows and movies on HBO and Showtime. During the day, she’d overseen the implementation of the computer networking system, talking with executives and employees, and in those conversations, she’d felt like the woman she wished she was all the time: strong, knowledgeable, focused. Avery appreciated the thanks she’d received, the glances men had thrown her way, the admiration in the women’s eyes. And then there had been Mischa Podorov, who oversaw the computer systems for Dirland Accounting nation-wide. Mischa was from Georgia, the Georgia in the former USSR, “Not the peaches and the cream Georgia, you know,” he’d said. “I am from the original. The best.”

When she opened the garage door and pulled her suitcase up into the laundry room, she stood still and listened. Echoing down the hall from the nursery—the spare room, Daniel’s room--she heard her mother’s high pitched laugh, Dan’s slow, calm voice, and then something falling. Luis said, “Pick it up, man, or we’ll never get this contraption together.”

Valerie laughed, and Avery thought about turning around and leaving. They were all in on it, together, wanting whatever was going to happen next. Wanting Daniel. But then the door closed loudly behind her, and she heard the collective pause from the back of the house and then footsteps. Too late for so many things.

Avery sighed and pulled her suitcase into the kitchen, looking up at Dan standing in front of her, his hands on his hips, a screwdriver in his front shirt pocket.

“Hi,” she said, taking off her suit jacket.

“How was the flight—here, let me take that.” He grabbed her jacket and then the handle of the suitcase, rolling it back and forth gently on the Spanish tile, as if the sound could be confused for the normal conversation they used to have when Avery came home from business trips.

“Fine. No problems. So, what’s going on in there?”

Isabel peaked in the kitchen. “Oh, Sweetie! Hello! I’m so glad you made it home safely.”

Avery found the spot on her cheek she’d bitten so often it felt worn, callused, ready for her teeth, eager to help her avoid saying the words she otherwise would, like: “Of course I’m home safely,” or, “How do you think it went?” If they would only let her go to bed, but that would be impossible now. Her mother would pump her for information on her starting work, the trip, who she met, what they wore, what she ate and where. And even though he was being careful with her, Dan was clearly excited, whatever was going on the room lighting his eyes, his cheeks reddish under his summer tan.

“No problems,” she repeated. “So what’s going on in there?”

Isabel looked at Dan, her face wobbling between truth and a soothing lie. She blinked, said nothing. Dan coughed and said, “We’re putting together a bedroom set. Desk, bunk bed, dresser. Luis and Valerie are here. Dolores is watching Tomás. It’s a bigger job than we first thought.”

“Oh, my, yes. So many parts. And the directions are written in Sanskrit as far as I can tell. Come see. Then you can tell me all about your trip.” Isabel smiled, but her lips quivered as she tried to hide that she knew about Daniel. Dan must have told her everything already, not leaving anything for Avery to do.

“I think I’ll go and unpack,” Avery said quickly. “Change. Okay?” She walked to Dan and took her jacket and the suitcase. He put his hand over hers, but she pulled away, rolling the suitcase down the hall. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

She closed the bedroom door and closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wood. Her heart pulsed in her head and throat, and she wished she could open her eyes and find herself back in the soft hotel bed, a delicious meal on a table in the middle of the room, the television tuned to a first-run movie, Mischa calling her from his hotel, laughing about Ed from Dirland and his sad toupee. “It is a backwards carpet, you know,
ptichka
?” he’d say. “How will I look in it, A-vary?” Her name was bird-like on his tongue.

But she opened her eyes, and she was still in Monte Veda. Her husband was down the hall fixing up a room for the ten-year-old boy who was moving in with them. His son.

Avery threw her jacket on the bed and unzipped her suitcase. She tossed her dirty laundry in the hamper and was hanging up blouses when Valerie knocked on the door.

“Aves? It’s me.” Valerie knocked again and then pushed open the door. “Hey, girl.”

Avery turned and smiled. “Hi.”

Valerie sat on the bed and fiddled with Avery’s jacket buttons. “So, how are you? I barely saw you before you left. I didn’t even know you’d gotten your job back. Dan had to tell me.”

Avery swallowed and pushed her hair away from her forehead, turning to look at Valerie. “I know. I’m sorry. It just seemed like something—“

“Something we couldn’t what? Talk about? Aves, come on! We’ve talked about everything. Remember, I used to work, too.”

“Then you could run off and tell Loren about that, too. And then Loren could call my mom. I know that’s what happened. No one gives me a chance to say a word.”

Valerie breathed in, her collar bones visible under her T-shirt. “I was worried. I knew your family would want to know about this.”

Avery pushed clothes around in the suitcase. “But you shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry.” Valerie said softly. Avery couldn’t look at her, closing her eyes instead and feeling the fabric under her hands: silk, rayon, cotton. “But what would you have done if the situation were reversed?”

Avery wanted to turn and say, “I wish it was reversed. Take it! Take all of it. And I’ll call your mom and Yvette and build a bedroom set and hang out with your family.” But as she thought the words, she knew she would be worried about her friend and would do inappropriate things, like calling Valerie’s family and passing on the sad stories.

“Okay.”

“Avery? I want to be able to talk about all of this.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t want to go back to work before.” Valerie crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap. “This wasn’t a career move.”

“No,” she said, walking toward the bed and resting against the tall, oak bed post. “No, it wasn’t.”

“So, what happened? When we talked right after this all started, you were going to go along with it. It seemed like you were ready to . . . see what was going to happen. And then you just left.” Valerie looked up, and Avery could tell she was on the brink of tears, her eyes glassy and full. Avery had never imagined she was leaving behind more than just Dan and all his horrible news.

“Oh, Val.” Avery sat down next to Valerie and grabbed her hands. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I don’t know. I can’t take what’s going on. Everything’s out of whack. Terrible. Now you all are building him a room. It’s like—“

“It’s real?”

“Yeah,” Avery whispered. She’d hoped it would somehow not be real. Like a dream she could shake herself awake from. Like a list she could rip up and throw away. “It’s happening. Dan said that we’re going to visit Daniel on Sunday. The first “get-to-know-the-dad” visits. I have to go, but I don’t want to. I don’t even want to be home. It was so peaceful in St. Louis, and I hate St. Louis. I didn’t have to think about any of this. It was like it wasn’t even part of my life.”