The Grown Ups (33 page)

Suzie looked over at Sam. “Crazy, huh? How did this happen so fast?”

Sam squinted at the windshield and turned up the defroster. “Haven't you noticed that's how life is?” He shrugged. “All the good things happen fast.”

Suzie nodded slowly and looked out the side window. She had left her cell phone in Marguerite's car and she knew that Sam didn't carry one. “Well, at least we won't starve.”

Sam laughed. “Right.”

Suzie shifted in her seat. “The last time you gave me a ride it was to the hospital.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure, when are we ever alone together?” After she said it there was an awkward silence between them. Suzie hadn't meant anything by it, but now it was out there. She paused, searching for something to say. “Do you think Bella will make it home?”

“Of course, why not?” Sam frowned, still staring intently at the windshield. “This won't last forever.”

“You are so calm.”

“What?” Sam looked at her quickly before focusing his attention back on the road. “No, I'm just being logical: this can't last forever. Bella will come home. Tomorrow will be Thanksgiving, I'll bring the turkey, my dad will call me Michael.”

“Really? Hunt calls you Michael?”

Sam rapped his fingertips on the steering wheel. “Some days are better than others. But there are times that no matter what I
say or do, he insists I'm Michael and I know I have to just give up. He refuses to believe he has a son named Sam.”

“He has a son named Sam. We all know that.”

“Tell that to my father.” Sam grinned. “I'm kidding.”

“Can I ask you something?” Suzie paused. “What ever happened to those pictures?”

“What?”

Suzie cleared her throat. “The pictures of all the neighborhood moms. Michael told me once, a very long time ago, that you got rid of the pictures.”

Sam opened his mouth and then closed it. He sighed. “I picked them up. My mother was calling my name and the last thing I wanted was for her to come out of the house and see the pictures. I didn't know yet. I didn't know she had decided that day to leave us and that she was getting the luggage out for herself, not for what I thought was some surprise vacation. So I ran down the steps off the porch and just started picking them up.”

Suzie stared at him, openmouthed. It couldn't have been a coincidence that Sam and Michael's mother had left the same day Suzie and her family had. Had her father known that?

“I picked up the box from the road and I just ran from one to the other of the photos until I had them all. Don't ask me how I knew I did, but I guess it was because of all the times we had looked at them.”

Suzie felt the shame of those afternoons in her old basement creep up. “I'm so sorry.”

“We were kids,” Sam said. “I don't blame you.”

Floored by Sam's kindness, Suzie said nothing.

“Lucky for me, and for you, I suppose, all hell broke loose that afternoon when my mother put her suitcases in the car and told my father she was leaving. No one paid any attention to me for
weeks. Believe me, the shoebox of photos was nothing. A few weeks later my father and I went up to Paradox and I took the box up there with me.”

“Are they—?”

“No.” The car lurched forward as Sam stepped on the gas. Suzie put a hand on the dashboard as the seat belt cut across her shoulder. The car in front of them had finally turned. The snow was getting lighter. Suzie could actually read the street signs: three more blocks to go.

“What did you do?”

“I forgot about them, as crazy it sounds, until a few weekends before high school graduation. Michael, my father, and I had gone up there for one last hurrah.” He looked over at Suzie. “They had been stuck in the back of a drawer where I guess I had shoved them. I put them in the fire pit and lit a match.” He made a gesture with his hand. “Poof.”

They turned into the driveway. The way the snow had fallen it appeared as if the walks and roof were dusted in frosting. All the lights in the house were on. Suzie could see movement behind the curtains and she imagined Michael and Leo waiting for her. She looked at Sam. He was hunched over the steering wheel, peering up at the house. She imagined he was thinking about Hunt and Michael and maybe even Elizabeth, and about all the life they had lived inside those walls.

She saw them as they were that day. Fifteen and so unsure of everything and at the same time so cocky. She remembered what it had been like to cross the street and walk up those porch steps to hand him the envelope. Her knees had been shaky; she thought she might throw up. When he had hugged her she didn't want to let go. She wanted to hide. She wanted to run to Bella. She wanted to tell Sam everything as much as she wanted to
destroy the evidence. She knew it wasn't going to work in Massachusetts. It wasn't going to work anywhere. Everything, all of it, had been some cruel joke.

“Hey,” Sam said, touching her on the elbow. “It's all okay.”

Suzie blinked. “It is?”

“Absolutely.” He slipped the keys out of the ignition. “You ready?”

Suzie nodded. Her stomach rumbled. She wanted to hug her husband and her son. She reached over and touched Sam on the cheek. She said nothing because there was nothing left to say. They looked at each other for a minute and then Suzie dropped her hand and fumbled with the door handle. Sam got out his side, opened the trunk, and handed Suzie the pans of lasagna. He took the basket and she followed behind him, tracing his footsteps through the snowy walk up the porch steps and to the front door.

S
am's mother and father were together on a bench in the
backyard. For the longest time they had been sitting there quietly without moving or talking. His mother held his father's hand in her lap. Sam had no idea what they had to say to each other after all these years, or even if his father had any level of understanding. Perhaps this would be the one time in recent days and months when the pieces of his mind had reshuffled in his favor.

Above him Sam heard Marguerite's footsteps in the bedroom. The master suite was directly over the kitchen. It had been Marguerite who suggested they include Sam's mother in Leo's first birthday celebration. Sam wondered now if she was regretting that invitation.

From the living room Sam heard Bella making her best effort to entertain Tom. As fellow writers and teachers they seemed to be comparing notes in a genial manner.

Sam checked his time. On the large kitchen island he had placed the containers of food they had transported from the
restaurant: orzo salad, beet salad, red potatoes in a lemon dill sauce, tomato jam, homemade spicy mayo, a sweet mustard, garlic pickles from Delancey, a selection of cheese, including Elizabeth's goat cheese, spiced nuts, and platters of fruit. In the refrigerator Sam had placed tequila-lime marinated chicken and a couple of dozen patties made from a blend of pork, veal, and beef, all from a farm in the Catskills. There were also brown paper sacks of cornmeal-dusted rolls that looked like miniature crowns; Sam had thought they would delight the birthday boy, who had just a few teeth and gums of steel.

Michael had called to say that they were running late. They were bringing Suzie's mother with them and Leo had taken a longer nap than expected. They wanted him happy for the party so they had let him sleep. Truthfully, Sam had never seen Leo unhappy. He was a little Buddha of a baby, as pleased to be passed to strangers as he was in his mother's arms. Even left on his own plopped on a blanket with a circle of toys, he greeted everyone and everything as if it had the capacity to bring him joy.

Everyone had wanted to do something for Leo and Suzie's shared birthday. Ruthie and Mindy were in charge of the birthday cake, while Peter Chang and Frankie Cole wanted to handle refreshments and decorations. Celia was planning on playing the guitar and singing a song, with words provided by Bella. Johnny was bringing some surprise guests that he promised would be leaving with him and wouldn't eat any of the food, whatever that meant. Sam checked the time again and hoped some of them would be arriving soon.

Sam picked up two large galvanized buckets and carried them out to the patio. He had brought several cases of the handmade sodas he ordered from a place in Williamsburg and used at the restaurant, and he filled one tub with the wavy glass bottles of
sassafras, grapefruit, and mulberry fizz. He tried hard not to stare over at his parents, but his mother caught him looking and gave a small nod of acknowledgment. Sam ripped open the bags of ice and the contents crashed loudly into the tin, but neither of them looked over at him again. He rearranged the bottles and pulled the buckets under the awning and out of the sun before going back inside.

To keep busy Sam stacked plates and bowls on a wheeled cart, also tucking in a caddy of silverware. On the bottom shelf he added serving utensils, napkins, and a pile of platters. As he was readying to push it all outside he saw Peter Chang standing in the center of the backyard, holding a clutch of strings attached to helium balloons in a rainbow of colors.

Sam opened the glass door and Peter gave him a helpless look. “I can't let go,” he said.

Sam laughed. “Yeah, so start tying them to anything.”

“Didn't you hear me? I can't let go.”

“Where's Frankie?”

“We had to take two cars. Have you ever driven with twenty-four balloons?”

“Why twenty-four?”

Peter shrugged. “Because they sold them in groups of six?” Classic Peter logic. Sam pictured Peter huddled over the steering wheel of his old Honda surrounded by balloons. He took a handful of the balloons and followed Peter around the backyard, freeing him to begin tying them to random chairs, the pool railing, and the fence.

From the driveway someone was lying on a horn. Peter said, “It's probably Mindy. She said they were going to need help with the cake.”

Sam and Peter walked around the outside of the house to the
driveway. Mindy was standing at the back of Ruthie's car with the hatchback open. Ruthie was still behind the wheel, but on her phone. She waved to them and continued talking. Celia was in the backseat with a guitar in her lap, soundlessly mouthing words and strumming. She waved too but didn't move to get out. Mindy peered around the car and frowned. She looked pretty close to tears.

When they got to the open trunk Sam saw why Mindy looked upset. The cake was an enormous rectangle, larger than a carry-on suitcase, with a portrait of Suzie and Leo in fluorescent shades of frosting. Suzie's hair was the color of a bad clown wig and the frosting had been whipped and tufted so that it looked as if she had been caught in a windstorm. The top of Leo's head bore a line of frosting buttons in cobalt that gave the appearance of cornrows. The colors reminded Sam of the cake for Suzie's fifteenth birthday, the chunks that had ended up floating in her pool after the food fight that they had missed.

“Holy shit,” Peter said. “What the hell is that?”

Mindy looked as if she was about to cry. “I gave them a picture. I said colorful. They said they knew exactly what I wanted. When we went to pick it up . . .” Her bottom lip trembled.

Peter pressed a hand against her lower back and rubbed. “Aw, come on, Mindy. Leo is too little to remember, and Suzie will laugh.”

“But I didn't want a funny cake,” Mindy wailed as Ruthie got out of the car and slammed the door.

“Okay, the best they will do is offer us some plain ten-inch rounds in exchange. But they want this cake returned.” She looked down at the cake and winced as if she were seeing it for the first time. “For fuck's sake, was this done by a blind person?”

Mindy stifled a sob.

Sam said, “Come on, let's lift this out of the car and carry it into the house. It's too hot outside, the frosting will melt.”

“That would only help,” Peter said under his breath as they bent beneath the hatchback and slid the cake out. It was heavy, like raw cake batter and ten pounds of frosting heavy. They walked haltingly into the garage and through the side door into the kitchen.

Marguerite was standing by the sink when they came in. Her face barely registered a thing as they set the cake down on the table, and she walked over for a look. She had a fantastic poker face.

A quick look outside confirmed that Sam's parents were still on the bench, just as Bella came into the kitchen trailed by Tom. The girls hugged and went over to examine the cake with Bella. Whatever she said had them laughing. Tom leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, and Marguerite sighed. Sam opened the refrigerator and slid out the platters of meat to bring them to room temperature.

“Hey—beer's here,” Peter said as he moved toward the glass doors. Sam looked up. Frankie had three cases of beer balanced against his chest. Peter went out and took the top case out of his arms and began breaking it apart and loading the beer into the cooler.

Sam decided to start the grill. Out back, Frankie handed him a beer, and Sam gestured inside. “Give one to Tom.”

Marguerite poked her head out the door into the backyard. “Suzie called, said they'd be here in half an hour.”

Sam looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. He wished she would come outside, but he knew she didn't want to interrupt his mother and Hunt. Sam had no idea if his father was even able to carry on a conversation. This morning he had
decided again that Sam was Michael, even after Sam went upstairs to his room and retrieved the graduation photos off his dresser. Hunt had looked at Sam's photo as if he had never seen him before in his life.

Tom hovered behind Marguerite until Bella, Mindy, and Ruthie pushed past him into the backyard, forcing him to step onto the patio or be run over. From over the top of the opened grill Sam saw his mother raise her hand and gesture for Tom to come join them. When Tom reached them he extended his hand to Sam's father, who pumped it hard, smiling as if he were running for mayor.

“Here, do you need these?” Sam turned around. Marguerite was holding a pair of tongs and a long fork. She was whispering, as if afraid to be caught in her own backyard.

Sam took them and placed them on the table. “You okay?”

She nodded in response but her attention was obviously divided. “The other day I couldn't find him. For over an hour. I drove around the neighborhood and finally went into town. He's never done that before, just walked out of the house.”

“Why didn't you call me?” Sam imagined looking out from the restaurant and seeing his father strolling by. He wondered if his father would recognize him then.

Marguerite picked up the tongs and held them up to the light before she set them down. “He was sitting at the bus stop bench on Main Street. He was wearing his slippers and the newspaper was tucked under his arm. When I pulled up he smiled at me and got into the car like he had been waiting for me all that time.” She chewed at her lip. “I was so mad and relieved I was crying. I try not to do that in front of him, you know? And he didn't even notice. He told me it was hot and asked if we could stop and pick up some ice cream on the way home.”

“Marguerite—”

“Ice cream?” Marguerite paused. “At breakfast he had been so, so clear. He talked about Paradox and going fishing. He wanted you boys to come, and Leo. He wanted to show Leo. A part of him must know, right? That he won't be here, mentally, anyway. But that morning, he was with me completely. I hate it. I hate it so much. I wish he would just lose his mind altogether and be done with it.” Her hand flew to her mouth and covered it, as if she could take back what she'd said. “My God, what is wrong with me?”

Sam moved closer to her in an effort to shield her from everyone else. “Marguerite, let's go inside.”

“I don't want to go inside, Sam.” He backed off; she looked over his shoulder at his father and mother. “What do you think they are talking about?”

“It looks like my mother is doing most of the talking.”

She shook her head; her face was red and her eyes watery. “I'm jealous. My God, I'm jealous.”

“He loves you, Marguerite. He loves you more than—”

She held her hand up and shook her head. “Don't say that, Sam. Please, don't. He doesn't even know me anymore.”

“Yes, he does,” Sam said. “He does.”

Her chin trembled. It didn't matter what Sam said to her and they both knew it.

“I don't know if we are going to be able to stay here much longer, Sam. I can't watch him all the time. The house suddenly feels so big.” She took a deep breath, pressed her fingertips beneath her eyes, and backed away. “Oh my God, I need to get it together. Michael and Suzie are going to be here soon and I can't be like this.”

“Go.” Sam closed the lid of the grill. He glanced over at his friends lounging at the table by the pool. All around them were the balloons that Peter had tied to the chairs. They shimmered in the heat and floated above their heads.

Celia walked past Sam with her guitar slung across her back. In her arms was a tiny peach-colored kitten. Behind her, Johnny Ross carried an animal carrier and Sam thought he glimpsed the pale pink ears of a rabbit. These must be the extra guests Sam wouldn't have to feed.

Sam went over and stood behind Bella, massaging her shoulders. “You hungry?”

She leaned back in her chair and looked up at him. “Starved. You need help?”

Sam shook his head. The truth was that he just wanted to touch her, to feel her beneath his hands, to know she was there. That was all. That was everything.

Later that afternoon
they sang “Happy Birthday” to Leo and Suzie, standing around the cake. Leo, from his perch on Suzie's hip, had already reached down and grabbed two handfuls of Suzie's frosting hair. He had smeared it across his cheeks in an attempt to get his fist into his mouth. Clumps had attached themselves to the tips of Suzie's curls and on each of Michael's shoulders like epaulets.

A watery line of DayGlo orange spittle fell from Leo's chin onto his bib as he squealed in chorus with their voices. Sam's mother stood to his right, clutching Tom's hand and singing loudly. Sarah Epstein stood beside Marguerite, who held the video camera with a shaky hand. Mr. Epstein, a surprise late arrival, stood by the hedges next to the back gate, unwilling to come any closer. There
was a red tricycle at his feet with a blue bow attached to the handlebars. Everyone seemed to be aware that he was there, but only Sarah Epstein had raised a hand in greeting.

Frankie, Peter, and Mindy linked arms and kicked a chorus line, while Bella ended up singing their song when Celia forgot the words, and Johnny had to return the animals to their carriers because the cat and the rabbit had an uneasy relationship. Hunt clapped his hands out of time to their singing. He wiggled his fingers at Leo as if they had only just met.

Sam shared a look with Suzie that went on a moment longer than it should have. Sam was thinking about Leo, and maybe Suzie had been too. That if they had not been together on that day she never would have made it to the hospital. Or maybe she had been thinking about that other birthday of hers they had shared, the box of photos and a bed in her basement so many years ago. Would they ever have gotten here without being there first? Sam was doubtful.

They were here now, all of them. Relationships slightly re-arranged, but still together. That was more than any of them would have ever imagined years before. They had watched their parents stumble and vowed never to do the same, only to fail one another in entirely different ways. They experienced love, but they also caused disappointment and sorrow. They felt fear, and they knew loss. They ran away, only to return.