Running Northwest (8 page)

Daniel had called his Grandma Grace in Florida about 15 minutes earlier, after asking his father if it was all right. Thomas hesitated about it at first, but he had made a promise earlier that day that Daniel could make the phone call. Thomas also fought the urge to have Daniel use the house phone to make the call so he could listen in on the conversation. From time to time, Thomas would do this so he would know what was being said.
It was something Thomas'
mother knew he did occasionally and voiced her disapproval of it.
Thomas loved his mother Grace, but sometimes when talking to Daniel on the phone she would say things that were somewhat inappropriate and that would occasionally confuse his son.

T
onight
though
Thomas had decided to give his mother the benefit of the doubt and respect their privacy.
So Thomas sat and sipped his beer, smelling the salty air and quietly listening to Daniel’s side of the conversation, listening for hints of stress. Daniel was having a blast and was all smiles as he told his Grandma Grace about the post-card and how cool his friends at school thought it was. Regaling her with all the cool things he and his father had been doing since the last time they had spoken on the phone. For some reason Daniel had the habit of talking with his hands when he spoke on the phone, particularly when he was trying to emphasize something very important. It made Thomas laugh at how emphatic his son’s hand gestures were while he was on the phone.

About 20 minutes later, Thomas heard his son say, “Hold on, Grandma, I’ll ask him,” as the boy pulled the phone away from his head and looked at his dad.

“Dad, Grandma wants to know if you want to talk to her tonight?” he said.

Thomas thought for a moment and looked at his watch, then looked down and noticed his sons hand wasn’t over the bottom of the phone. Crap, she can hear me, he thought silently.

“Yeah, just for a quick second. It’s time for you to get to bed, okay.”

“Okay, Dad, are you gunna tell me a story?” his son asked hopefully.

“Well, of course, you can’t go to bed without a story; that’s the rules, right?” Thomas answered.

“Yes sir, it is,” the boy said, smiling, as he handed the phone over to his father. “I’ll wait here until you’re done. I should help you put the fire out, Dad, ya know, to make sure you do it right and stuff,” he said.

“Okay, sounds good to me. I’ll be quick, Boss, I promise,” Thomas replied as he put the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Mom, how was your day?” he asked over the phone as he began what he hoped was a brief conversation

A few minutes later, he said his goodbyes to his mother and finished their short talk.

“Daniel, do you want say one more goodbye?” he asked his son who was now sitting next to him, leaning on his father’s left arm.

Thomas held the phone next to his son’s ear.

“Bye, Grandma, love you,” the boy said quietly as he was clearly tired. Thomas moved the phone back to his own ear.

“All right, Mom, I love you, I’ll give you a call tomorrow; have a good night, okay? Bye.”

As he pressed ‘end’ on the cell phone, Thomas looked down at his son who was petting the head of the sleeping mastiff Layla that had been lying by his feet the whole time by the fire, and gently nudged the boy’s head with his arm.

“Your grandma sure can talk, huh?” he asked the tired boy.

“Yeah, she can,” he said with a groan, “She kept asking me tons of questions. I think she forgets that
its
three hours earlier here than it is in Florida; Grandpa in Michigan does the same thing. Is it because they’re kind of old?” Daniel asked, looking up at his father with droopy eyes.

Thomas burst out laughing at what his son just said.

“Yeah, Kiddo, I think sometimes that’s why,” he answered still amused at what the boy just said.

“What’s so funny, Dad?” Daniel asked; confused as to why his dad was laughing so hard.

“You are little man, you are. So hey, let’s get this fire out and get ready for bed okay. It’s getting late already,” Thomas said as he looked at his watch and noticed it was 8:45 pm.

“Okay, Dad,” the boy answered as he got up and went to get the empty bucket to put water in. His dad would use to put out the fire, waking Layla from her sleep as he got up.

Twenty minutes later the fire was out and they walked into Daniel’s bedroom after the boy had put his pajamas on and brushed his teeth. The boy wormed his way into the bed that already was occupied by the old yellow lab Harley, who raised her head slightly as the small boy crawled in next to her.

“All right girl, let’s go to bed,” Daniel said as he rubbed the yellow dog’s stomach.

Thomas sat on the edge of the bed and covered his son up with his whale blanket. “What story do you want me to read you, Kiddo?” Thomas asked.

“Actually, Dad, I was wondering if you could tell me a story about Mom,” he said quietly, “If that’s okay.”

Thomas sometimes forgot how young Daniel was when his mother died. The boy remembered a lot about his mother, or at least what he could but sometimes he just liked hearing his dad talk about his mom.

Thomas and Daniel made a
unique
parent-child pairing for the small coastal town they lived in. At Daniel’s school there were, as is the times,
many
kids who lived alone with their mothers – most of whom were divorced or separated from the children’s fathers. Generally, the fathers were still in their children’s’ lives to different degrees however some not at all. There were also a few kids who never knew their fathers at all for various reasons.
Nevertheless,
Thomas was, as far as he knew, one of only four single fathers who lived with their children full time and the mothers were not in their lives at all. He was also one of only two “widowers” as the locals called him, despite the fact that he and Sarah had never actually been married. Still, he
did not
argue about the term. But Thomas was the town’s only single widower father who was raising such a young child, a child that was not even his blood son. He had, in fact, adopted his son after the boy’s mother died.
S
ince Thomas and Sarah were not married before she died, this gave Thomas and his son a uniqueness to the town, which was part of the reason they had gotten so much help at first when Sarah died, and occasionally still did.

But sometimes at school, when the other kids in his class would talk about their mothers and the things they did, or on certain days like Mother's Day, Thomas knew it was hard for his son. So he
did not
mind at all when on nights like tonight his son would ask to hear about his mother, he missed her a lot sometimes. Thomas looked down at his son, whose eyes were already starting to droop, and ran his hand through his hair.

“Of course it’s okay, little man. You missing her some?” he asked.

“Yeah, a little bit,” the boy answered quietly looking at his father in the eyes.

He grabbed his sons hand and thought quietly to himself.

“Okay. Daniel, no problem. I miss her a lot too. Let me think of something good,” he said, looking down at his son.

After thinking for a minute, Thomas began telling his son a story about the first time he and Daniel’s mother went to Seattle. They went and saw the orcas, on one of the orca boat tours based in the
Puget Sound
. Neither one of them had ever been that close to one of the huge black-and-white whales before. He told his son how much his mother had enjoyed it and how beautiful she looked when the whales splashed water all over her with a flap of their fins and how hard she had laughed every time it happened. Daniel loved whales and Thomas thought he would like hearing this particular story about his mother. Thomas liked talking about her just as much as Daniel liked hearing it. They both missed her terribly and neither of them wanted the memory of her to ever fade. About 10 minutes or so into the story Thomas glanced down and saw that his son was fast asleep. One of his tiny arms was over the side of the lab Harley. Thomas leaned over and kissed his son goodnight, gave Harley a quick pet on the head and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him after making sure Daniel’s night light was on.

After he took a long shower, Thomas stood in front of the slider in his bedroom. It was wide open; he was holding a cup of tea in his hand and the radio next to his bed was playing a song by Miles Davis. He closed his eyes and breathed in the air. He looked out onto the wide expanse of ocean that was now reflecting some light from the moon that was just starting to come over the coastal mountains and the tree line to the east of their house.

It was a little cooler now than what it had been earlier when he and Daniel were out on the beach. The breeze had picked up somewhat and the surf had gotten much larger. Thomas loved the way the ocean smelled, the way the waves sounded as they hit the rocks and sand that lined the beach; the air smelled clean and new. He loved waking up to these sounds and he especially loved falling asleep to these sounds. It was entirely peaceful and always calmed him down no matter what his day was like or how stressful it was. The sounds of Miles Davis that were floating through the room made it all that much better.

Thomas grabbed the handle for the slider door and pulled it shut almost all the way. He took a sip of his
tea, turned towards the bed,
and sat on its edge. The huge mastiff Layla, who had been sleeping soundly on it, moved over and put her large head on his lap. He set the coffee cup on the table next to the bed and began rubbing behind the
dogs’
ears and on the top of her head. With his free
hand,
he reached
over, grabbed the picture of Sarah off the nightstand,
and stared at it.

“Damn, we miss you, baby. Your son – our son – is getting so big and so smart.
He is
a wise ass sometimes. You would laugh your cute little ass off at some of the things he says,” he said, talking to the picture, something he would do on occasion.

He looked at her picture for a few more minutes and set it back down. He then reached for the other picture that was next to it, the one of the other woman from back in Michigan. He silently looked at it, and rubbed the tips of his fingers gently over her face. He
sighed, put the picture gently back on the table,
and then adjusted both pictures. He reached over, turned the light off and crawled underneath the blankets. He started rubbing Layla’s stomach after the dog had lain down with her back pressed against his side. He quickly started dozing off and a few minutes later Thomas was fast asleep.

She was lightly tapping her fingertips on the side of the wine glass that she had in her hand. As she looked down at the dark red liquid she sloshed it around inside of the glass, a million thoughts and feelings were going through her heart and mind while she did it. At the same time, she was avoiding eye contact with her friend Karen who sat next to her on the large couch in her living room. Stephanie was not used to having someone be so invasive about her personal business and her past. However, considering what her friend had witnessed earlier in the day while they were at work, Karen was not letting her get out of talking about the man in the picture, the man named Thomas. Stephanie had decided that it was easier to just go along with Karen and not try to fight her.

It was about 8:30 pm now on Monday night; Karen had gotten to Stephanie’s house around 7 pm and brought the Chinese food and wine as promised. As soon as Karen walked into the door, she was asking questions and expecting answers. Stephanie felt bombarded after an already emotional and stressful day.

As they ate, Karen got Stephanie to start opening up ever so slowly about Thomas. They were small questions at first that were easy to answer. Eventually she asked harder and more personal questions, questions that required a lot more thought and explanation on Stephanie’s part; and more honesty. Karen knew how to work Stephanie to get her to talk. Eventually it all started coming out as if a floodgate had burst open in Stephanie’s heart and mind. Soon Karen did not even have to ask Stephanie too many questions at all. Stephanie just talked and let it go and come out naturally from her heart. It had been years since she had been able to talk openly about Thomas with anyone. The few times she had brought Thomas up with her ex-boyfriend Jared it had ended in fights and crying and Stephanie always ended up feeling stupid.

Her life was different now, her mind was different and maybe her heart was different. Moreover, she had a good friend sitting next to her who was truly interested and willing to listen, albeit in a somewhat nosey and forceful way.

Stephanie turned her body and pulled one leg up onto the couch. She put her left elbow on the back of the couch and ran her fingers through her long hair. The wine glass was still in her other hand. She looked at Karen who was staring at her waiting for what was going to come out next. Stephanie sat waiting for another question from her nosey friend.

“Okay, Steph, let me see if I understand this so far, with what you’ve already said,” Karen said as she rubbed her face, took a sip of wine and took a long look at the picture of the man from Stephanie’s past that was sitting in the middle of the coffee table in front of them.