Say When (23 page)

The door opened and Ernie walked in. He pulled out a half gallon of premium vanilla. “So much?” Angie said. “Ernie, you know you’re not supposed to have ice cream.”

“Oh, take it easy, this is all for you and Griffin.” He opened the carton, peered in. “Maybe I could have a taste, though.” He looked over at his wife, sighed. “I know, I won’t. But I
am
going to have a little cake!”

She said nothing.

“Aw, come on. I’m Santa Claus, for Christ’s sake.”

She laughed, went over to a drawer, and took out a knife. “All right, all right. But a small piece.” She came back to the table, kissed Ernie’s forehead, and began slicing the cake.

“Ball and chain,” Ernie said, but these were words of love. And though he was talking to Griffin, he was staring at his wife with such obvious affection, it was as though the sentiment were another person in the room.

Angie nodded at Griffin, smiled a small smile.
You see, then.

And Griffin nodded back.
I do.

S
taring into the dressing room mirror, Griffin put on his hat, then his white gloves. The Santa on duty before him came into the room, unfastening his belt. “Whew!” he said. “Busy! Your turn, pal. Make sure they give you a lot of water—it’s hotter than hell up there.”

“I will, thanks,” Griffin said, and, making a final adjustment to his beard, he went out into the mall. He was spotted immediately by a Hispanic girl coming out of a shoe store, holding onto her mother’s hand.
“Hola,
Santa!” she yelled excitedly. And then,
“Mami!
Santa!”

The mother smiled and waved shyly at Griffin, and he waved back, then discreetly hiked up his belly.

There was a long line waiting for him. Griffin nodded at Donna and her elf assistant, then took his place in his gigantic chair. A boy around seven years old was first in line, and he walked slowly up to Griffin, then stood silently before him. He was wearing a buttoned-up coat and a stocking hat pulled low over his forehead. “Hello there!” Griffin said.

“Hello,” he said dully.

“Aren’t you warm?” Griffin asked.

The boy shook his head, then asked, “So, come on, are you real or not?”

“Pardon?” Griffin asked, buying time.

“Are you real? I heard you’re not real.”

“Who said that?”

“Ethan Wendell.”

“Oh, well, Ethan. You know how he can be.”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t pay too much attention to Ethan if I were you.”

“Okay.”

Griffin sat back in his chair. “Want to come sit up here with me?”

Again the boy nodded, then stood stiffly as Griffin pulled him onto his lap. “Now,” he said. “Do I or do I not feel real to you?”

A tiny smile. “Real.”

“So. What would you like for Christmas?”

The boy took a big breath in. “One best thing is a microscope. And I want a number seven submarine sandwich. And a car that is
not
like anyone else’s that has a horn and headlights. You can build it so that it is not like
anyone else’s.
I could use a German shepherd. And I would like more LEGOs and some disappearing ink and some magic tricks, especially the dollar bill maker. And a hockey stick.” He paused, looked at Griffin. “Do I just keep going?”

“Well, I might not be able to bring you everything. But you can
tell
me everything.”

“I know. My mom said if I ask for too many toys, the sleigh might tip over.”

“Something to consider,” Griffin said, and then, seeing Donna signaling him, he said, “Say. How about we have our picture taken together?”

“Yeah,” the boy said. “And then we send it to my grandmother. Which you probably know.”

“And she really likes it, doesn’t she?”

The boy shrugged.
“I
don’t know.”

“Well, how about you smile right at that pretty lady over there?”

After the flash, the boy hopped off Griffin’s lap and saluted smartly. “See you,” he said.

A baby was next, a charmer in a pink ruffled dress who smiled engagingly and then quietly vomited on him. Donna rushed forward with a handful of paper towels, and she and Griffin laughingly reassured the embarrassed mother.

Next came a little girl around three, who cried hysterically when put on Griffin’s lap, then instantly quieted when her mother sat on Griffin’s other knee. “What would you like for Christmas?” Griffin asked the woman, and she said, “Sleep.”

“No!” the girl shouted. “She wants diamonds!”

“Only from Daddy, sweetheart,” the mother said. “But why don’t you tell Santa what you want?”

“He knows.”

“How does he know?”

“Remember we sent him that letter?”

“Ah, yes,” the mother said, winking at Griffin. “Well, we can remind him.”

“Easy-Bake Oven and a call girl suit,” the girl said. She wiped her hand across her nose.

“Pardon?”

“Easy-Bake Oven and a
call
girl suit. With a holster and a hat and boots.”

“Oh! A
cow
girl suit!”

“Yes!” the girl said.

“I’ll do my best.”

After they posed for pictures, the girl climbed off his lap and said, “I’m going to leave cookies for you, you know. And coffee and toast for the reindeer.”

Griffin handed her a candy cane and antlers. “Thank you.”

“Know what?”

“What?”

“I LOVE YOU!!!!”

“I love you, too,” he said, and reached for his mug of ice water. “Why don’t you call me sometime?” she asked, and her mother said, “Okay, honey, that’s enough, let’s go.”

When Griffin put down his mug, he saw a few feet before him a boy large in size but about six years old, as evidenced by his missing front teeth. He was wearing camouflage pants and a bright orange T-shirt, high-top sneakers, unlaced. He had stuffed his jacket between his knees.

“Come on up,” Griffin said.

The boy approached solemnly, then sat down heavily on Griffin’s lap. His weight was equal to an adult’s and Griffin tried subtly to twist his leg into a more comfortable position.

“How are you?” Griffin asked.

“I only got one thing,” the boy said.

“What’s that?”

“Can I tell you in your ear?”

Griffin leaned his head down, and the boy whispered, “Can you take away my breasts?”

Griffin leaned back, stared into the boy’s eyes in an effort not to stare directly at his chest. But the boy was right—there they were.

“Well,” Griffin said.

“Can you?”

“What’s your name?”

“Estevan.”

“And you’re how old?”

“Six.”

“Well, here’s what I can promise you. You are going to grow and change a lot, Estevan. In your body and also in your mind and in your heart. And the way you are now is not the way you’ll always be. Okay?”

“Okay.” His face still full of sadness.

“Any toys you want this year?”

“Not really. Well, I want a puppy, but don’t bring me that, because my dad, he said he’d take him out the Kennedy Expressway and leave him. So don’t bring me one.”

Ernie was right. Some kids broke your heart. “How about something else?” Griffin asked.

“Well, you usually forget. So…”

“Well, here’s a gift I’ll give you now,” Griffin said. “I’ll tell you that I can see what kind of man you could be when you grow up. I believe that if you just try, you’ll be a great man.”

“…I don’t know,” the boy said.

“I believe you have a lot of power inside. You can feel it sometimes, can’t you?”

There, a light in his eyes. “Yes. Sometimes.”

“I want you to trust in that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And here are some orders. I want you to take good care of yourself, every day!”

“Okay!”

“I want you to eat your vegetables!”

The boy giggled. “Okay!”

“Now. Who’s your best friend?”

Uh oh. Bad question. The boy shrugged, stared at the floor.

“I’ll tell you something in
your
ear,” Griffin said. And as the boy held still, he whispered, “I’ll be your best friend. It’s our secret, okay?”

The boy smiled, nodded.

“How about a picture of you and me together?”

The boy looked over at his mother, an unhappy looking woman standing off to the side. “I can’t,” he said. “She said we can’t pay for that.”

“This one’s free,” Griffin said. He would pay for it. “I’ll let my friend over there know that this one’s free. And you take the picture home and put it somewhere special, will you?”

The boy turned to look into Griffin’s eyes. “Yes, sir.” He stood up, then turned back to say, “Can I have your autograph on my arm?” He handed Griffin a pen, and, after he signed, whooped and ran down the steps toward his mother, who was smiling now.

The line stayed long until Griffin’s shift was up. Finally, exhausted, he said goodbye to the last child and stood up from his chair. He was filled with a sadness he couldn’t explain. He walked over to Donna to say good night, and she looked up at him, smiling. Then, seeing his expression, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Tired, I guess. My arms are killing me.”

Donna called out to her assistant that she’d be right back, then walked with Griffin as he headed back to the dressing room. “It’s…this
belief
they have,” he said. “And the things most of them want. I thought they’d have lists six miles long. But they don’t. Most of them don’t ask for much at all.”

“And you wish you could give every single one of them what they want, right?”

He smiled at her ruefully. “Actually, it’s more selfish than that. I wish
I
could buy a video game and have it fill the void.”

“That doesn’t fill it, not even for them,” Donna said. “Come on, you know that. We’re full of false bottoms from the day we’re born.”

He reached the door of the changing room, and turned to Donna. He started to speak, then stopped.

But she heard him anyway. “Why don’t you just ask her to try again, Griffin?”

He said nothing.

“What have you got to lose?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ask her.”

She touched his hand, smiled, and walked away. In the air, the lingering scent of her perfume, like a last kiss.

G
riffin pulled up outside of Ellen’s apartment, turned off the engine, and sat quietly, thinking. He could hear the
tick-tick-tick
of the engine as it cooled, the sound of the traffic at the busy intersection on the corner. Her lights were on, and he watched for a while to see if he could see anyone moving about. No one.

He opened the car door, stepped out, and saw his shadow against the sidewalk. He’d forgotten that he hadn’t changed out of his costume, and he was startled, at first, by what he saw on the ground. Then, enjoying the unexpected sight of his alternate persona, he tipped his hat to himself.

He didn’t want to knock on the door and risk being unwelcome. He wanted only to see her. He crept silently up to the living room window. She was on the sofa, talking on the phone. Zoe was nowhere in sight—asleep in the other room, Griffin supposed. Ellen’s face was serious, and the responses she was giving were brief. Who was she talking to? When they lived together, he could mouth this familiar, domestic question, and she would mouth back the response. Now it was no longer his business. Her face grew angry, she said a few words into the phone and hung up, then sat with her forehead in her hands.

This could be good. This could be very good. It had to be a fight between her and Peter. Griffin’s spirits lifted, and he became emboldened—he would let her know he was here, after all. He would knock on the window rather than go to the door. That might be romantic. Ellen would like that. He raised his hand to knock, but then Ellen picked up the phone and dialed. Now her face was soft and conciliatory.
Come over,
she’d be saying.
I’m sorry.

He sat down on the ground and sighed, his back against the house. But it was cold and uncomfortable, and he got back up and looked through the window again. She was still talking, smiling now. He watched her for a while, nodding, listening.
Yes,
she was saying. Another nod.
Yes.

Damn it. He reached up and knocked at the window. Ellen jumped, pulled her sweater tighter around her, said something into the phone. Then she lay the receiver down and moved cautiously to the window. She was frightened; her eyes were wide, her fists clenched.

Griffin took his hat off and pointed to himself. “It’s only me,” he said loudly.

She opened the window. “Griffin! What are you
do
ing?”

“Are you on the phone?”

“Well, I guess if you’ve been standing there watching me, you know that. What are you doing? You scared me to death!”

So much for his ideas about her ideas about romance. “Who are you talking to?”

She sighed. “My mother. We had a little fight. Now we’re making up. If you must know.”

His feet were cold, and the tips of his fingers. “Can I come in?”

She stared at him. “Why? What do you want?”

He shrugged. “Cold out here.”

“Oh, all right, come in.”

After she opened the door, she went to the phone and said, “It was only Griffin, Mom. I’ll call you tomorrow.” A pause while she listened, and then, “No. Goodbye.”

“What were you fighting about?”

“Nothing. What are you doing here, Griffin?”

“I was in the neighborhood. Is Zoe asleep?”

“Yes. Why are you still dressed up?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t feel like changing.”

“Well…” She held her hand out. “Give me your coat. Would you like some tea?”

He followed her into the kitchen. “Sure.”

She filled the kettle, stood on tiptoe to reach the box of tea in her high cupboard. She set out two cups, then sat opposite him, folded her hands. “I’m glad you came over. I have something to tell you.”

Oh, Jesus.
They were getting married.

“Peter and I are…over.”

At first, expecting the news he had, what she actually said did not register. But then it did.

“You’re kidding.”

She looked down into her empty cup.

“But…he’s why you left!”

She looked up. “No. He’s one of the reasons I left.”

He searched her face. What did this mean? “So…are you sure, Ellen?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I am. I am quite sure.”

“Well…who got the puppy?”

“Zoe did. He’s in there sleeping with her. They ran around all day—they’re both just zonked.” She looked at Griffin and her eyes filled. “I’m tired, too. I’m so amazingly tired.”

“I can see that.”

She put her face into her hands. “And I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He wasn’t sure he could touch her. He reached out a hand toward her, then pulled it back. “Ellen.”

She looked up suddenly, dry-eyed. “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing.” Behind her, the teakettle whistled, and she went over to turn off the flame. “Do you really want tea?”

“No.”

“Me either.” She sat down again. “See? I knew that.”

“I know you did.”

Silence.

And then she said, “I wake up a hundred times every night. And every day, hours before I go to work, I clean. Isn’t it clean in here?”

Griffin looked around. “Yes, it is.”

“That’s right, because that’s what I do, is clean.”

Silence again, but for the dripping of the tap. And then she said, “All of my clothes are organized according to color.”

He stared at her blankly. What did she want? “Uh huh.”

“I clean my
cleaning
products, Griffin. All the bottles and cans, I wipe them all off.”

“…Why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know! I think I’m like Lady Macbeth, trying to wash the guilt away.”

“Ellen. Do you want to come home? Let’s get Zoe and go home.”

“I can’t do that, Griffin.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t
do
that. Something
happened.
I can’t just come home.”

“You can.”

“Well, I
won’t
then. Put it that way.”

Griffin closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead. What was on TV tonight?

“Do you want to know what happened with Peter?” Her voice was soft, itself again.

“I don’t know…. I guess. Fine, what happened?”

“He’s not what I thought. I was so wrong about him. I thought he was part of what I needed to move toward. To become. And then as soon as I moved here, everything about him was wrong. He got up and ate in the middle of every night like a weird person. He doesn’t understand children. He pretends to, but he doesn’t. He…He…” She began to cry again. “Oh, Griffin, I just don’t know how I can ever…”

“Ellen. You screwed up. I screwed up, too. Just come home. Come on. We’ll work this out.”

“How can you say that? How can you even stand me anymore?”

“I feel bad for you. I think you made a mistake. I think it’s okay to forgive someone who makes a mistake.”

“But there were things wrong with us, Griffin, and those things are still there, they will still be there!”

“Well, then we’ll fix them together.”

The door to the bedroom opened, and Zoe came out, followed by a small black puppy. “Dad?” She rubbed her eyes. “Hey. You’re in your Santa suit. What are you doing here, Dad?”

Ellen scooped up the puppy. “I’ll take him out,” she said.

“Stay here,” Griffin said. “I’ll do it.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

Griffin took the puppy out to the yard, stood with his hands in his coat pockets while the dog sniffed, took a few steps, and then sniffed some more. “Come on,” Griffin said, and, as though on cue, the dog squatted, then rose and ran toward the house.

“Good boy!” Griffin said, picking him up and petting him. He would be very good about not holding anything against the dog. He would be very fair.

When he came back inside, Ellen said, “She’s back in bed. She wants you to tuck her in.”

Zoe lay with the covers pulled up to her nose. Griffin sat on the small bed—it wasn’t much more than a cot, really—and put the puppy into her arms. “Looks like you got your brother, huh?”

“What are you doing here, Dad?”

“I came to visit. Is that okay?”

“Yes. But I’m coming home tomorrow.”

“I know you are.”

She stared at him, yawned hugely, then said, “Dad? Can you get me a drink?”

He went into the kitchen, took one of the empty mugs from the counter, and filled it with water. By the time he gave it to Zoe, she was half asleep again. “Thanks.” She turned over, and was out.

Back in the living room, Griffin sat on the sofa beside Ellen. “I’m so ashamed,” she said quietly. “I can’t imagine how all of this came about. One thing, then another, then this awful kind of momentum…”

Griffin said nothing, stared at his hands on his knees.

“And now I’ve gone and screwed Zoe up, too.”

“She’s not screwed up. She’s stronger than that.”

“I think she’s just being careful. To not let us see. I think she’s trying to take care of us. And that just kills me, Griffin.”

“Well, if you don’t want to come home, what do you want to do, Ellen?”

“I don’t know. Griffin? How long since you stopped wearing your ring?”

It occurred to him to lie to her about what he had done. But he didn’t. He told her. He also told her that he’d regretted it, and had tried to find the ring, but could not.

“I see,” she said. And then, “Maybe you’d better go, now.”

“Ellen—”

“I want you to go, please.”

He did not look at her on the way out, nor did he look back at her apartment as he pulled away. He wanted a psychic shower, a feeling of all of her sliding off of him and heading down a drain.