by Garth Stein
EVAN’S MOTHER CALLED only once while he was away. Had things been normal between them, she would have called at least eight times.
He opens the windows of his apartment and inhales the familiar smells. There’s nothing like returning home on a midsummer’s night. A few kite-flyers in Gasworks Park hold out against the encroaching dusk; soon it will be too dark for them to see the colors of their kites. A steady stream of sailboats cruise eastward toward the cut, heading home after an afternoon on the Sound, their passengers trying to shake off the euphoria of the day, trying to get a handle on the reality of bagging the sails, battening down the hatches, putting the kids to bed, giving the wife a quick lay before a few hours of sleep and another long, hot week of bad traffic and boring meetings. Already looking forward to good weather the following weekend, maybe a regatta or a leisurely sail up through Deception Pass and onward to Roche Harbor for a candlelight dinner and an overnight at anchor.
He calls his mother. She answers on the third ring.
“Where have you been?” she asks.
“In Yakima.”
“Oh.”
A long pause settles in between them.
“Where are you now?” she eventually asks.
“Here. In Seattle.”
“Oh? We’d love to meet your son.”
Yes, they would. Of course, they would.
“Do you have any time?” she asks.
“I’m pretty busy, ” he says. “I have a lot of meetings this week, and then I have to head back to Yakima.”
“Oh.”
Another pause, this one shorter.
“He isn’t here, anyway, ” Evan says.“He’s staying with his grandmother in Walla Walla.”
“I see.”
It’s like trying to talk from inside a black hole: the gravity pulls all the words back inside before they can get out.
“Well, when it’s convenient, we’d love to meet him, ” she says. “We’d be happy to drive to wherever you are . . .”
But the rest of her idea is sucked back inside by the gravitational pull.
“. . . and your girlfriend, too, ” she manages to get out.
It’s hard, but she’s putting forth a great effort. She deserves a reward.
“Yeah, ” Evan cheers up a bit.“Maybe next weekend.”
“That would be nice, ” Louise responds in kind.
“We could come over and Dad could barbecue or something.”
“Oh, Evan. Dad would love to.”
“I could call Charlie, ” Evan goes on, feeding on his own enthusiasm, “tell him to come with Allison and Eric. A family reunion.”
“That sounds like so much fun, ” Louise agrees.“I’m sure Charlie would love to come.”
“Kind of a weird family reunion, though, ” Evan says. “Charlie, with his traditional family. Me, with my non-traditional family.”
“A family is a family, Evan. Tradition doesn’t matter.”
“Kind of pathetic, though.”
“Evan, ” Louise says firmly, “you are my son. In your whole life, you have never been traditional.”
“I guess not.” Evan laughs weakly.
“Are you going to call Charlie and ask him? It would be better if you called, so he doesn’t think I’m forcing anything.”
“I’ll call now.”
“We love you, Evan.”
Of course they do.
EVAN SITS BY the phone for an hour, thinking about how absurd it was for him to offer a family reunion when he has no family at all. Not even a non-traditional one. He cast aside both his son and his girlfriend before they had really started. So what, then, is this mirage of a family barbecue that he has concocted?
He could take it a step further. He could call Charlie, get all enthusiastic, convince Charlie to bring his wife and kid over, and, a few days later, they could all stand around in the backyard eating grilled skirt steak sandwiches and rosemary roasted potatoes and arugula salad with oranges, fennel and shaved Parmesan. But there would be one problem. Dean and Mica wouldn’t be there.
Some reunion.
THE NEXT TWO days are difficult for Evan. He sits alone in his apartment, practicing his guitar obsessively. He doesn’t go outside; he has food delivered. His phone rings periodically and he always lets the machine pick it up. Generally, it’s Lars calling to make some amendment to the Wednesday plans;Wednesday is the intended day of wine and roses.
Then a strange thing happens: his brother calls.
“Hey, Ev, ” Charlie says into the machine.“Mom said something about a barbecue this weekend? Listen, I want to apologize for the way I acted the last time we talked. You just really surprised me with that—”
Evan picks up.
“I’m here, ” he says.
“Oh, yeah? Screening?”
“Always.”
“But you’ve got to pick up for an apology from me, ” Charlie jokes.“Right?”
Evan laughs with him. It almost feels good to laugh.
“Anyway, ” Charlie says, “sorry about the way I acted. I should have been more understanding.”
“I dropped it on you like a bomb, ” Evan says.“You didn’t have much choice.”
“I could have done better, but I was totally stressed out that night. It’s killing me, Ev. It’s killing me. This economy. Things are really tight at the firm. I was supposed to make partner by now; now I might be on the short list of who goes, you know? Plus Eric . . . and Allison is sicker than a dog—”
“Chuck, Chuck. We were talking about me.”
“Right. Sorry. Look, I think it’s great that you’ve got a kid. I mean, I wish I knew about it earlier.”
“Don’t we all.”
“Well, Mom and Dad do, that’s for sure, ” Charlie says.
“I’m not so sure.”
“Oh, no, Ev. That’s why I’m calling. I mean, Mom is all shaken up. Dad is too, but he would never show it. They’re really upset about how you guys left off. They didn’t mean to give the impression that—”
“Yes, they did, ” Evan snaps.“They meant to give every impression they gave.”
“Yeah, ” Charlie agrees reluctantly.“Well, Mom is all excited for this family-reunion-barbecue thing. I guess it’s Saturday? She’s all freaked out. She wants to know if Dean has any food allergies she should know about.”
“No, ” Evan says.
“Well. So. I’m anxious to meet him. Does he look like you?”
“Spit and image.”
“Really. That’s great. Okay, then. See you Saturday, right?”
“We’ll be there, ” Evan says. Then, hit with a sudden inspiration, he adds, “I actually have a gig tomorrow night at General Tso’s. You want to come?”
“Uh ...”Charlie hesitates.“What time? I probably have to work late.”
“We’re scheduled for nine-thirty, which means ten.”
“Oh, not until ten?”
“We’re opening for someone who’s opening for someone. It’s kind of an audition gig. A big indie label is watching us.”
“Really? That’s great.”
“So, you want to come?”
“Um, look, I’ll try to get away . . .”
“It’s all right. Don’t worry.”
“No, I’ll try to get away. But I can’t guarantee anything.”
“I’ll put you on the guest list, ” Evan says, confident that his brother will never show.“Look for me.”
THAT EVENING, EVAN leaves his apartment for the first time in almost forty-eight hours to go for a drive. He doesn’t have direction or a goal when he leaves, but one soon finds him. He ends up at his parents’ house in Magnolia.
It’s obvious what he’s doing there, so he doesn’t fight it. He lets himself in and finds his parents upstairs in their room getting ready to go out to dinner, something they do well and often. They attend social events. Benefits, awards ceremonies. Their formal attire is always pressed, their minds always filled with relevant topics for conversation. They
welcome Evan’s visit, but they’re busy getting ready.
Evan sits on the edge of their bed stroking the matted fur of Ralphy, who’s looking a little the worse for wear. Louise sits at the vanity in her spacious bathroom, carefully applying the elements of her makeup. Carl is walking around in a T-shirt and briefs with his black tux socks on, debating whether to wear the wing collar or the standard.
It brings back memories for Evan. Memories of his childhood, when his parents would go out and he and Charlie would sit on their bed, watching them get ready. There was always something exciting about watching his parents prepare for a formal event. The layers of clothing, the attention to detail. Evan would insert one of his father’s cufflinks, Charlie would insert the other. They would take turns with the studs. They would check the back of his braces to make sure they weren’t turned. Louise would walk around in her slip, her lips painted bright red. Charlie would zip up her dress. And when they were all ready, they would stand together, and Carl would ask:“How do we look?”And Charlie and Evan would reply in unison:“Like Mom and Dad in fancy clothes.”And they would all laugh.
“Put in my cufflinks?” Carl asks.
Evan looks up. His father is standing in front of him with his tux shirt on, holding out his hands. Evan takes the cufflinks and slips them into the slots.
“Thanks. Any movement on that record deal?”
Evan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to tell them anything until the deal is done.“We’re kind of bogged down right now.”
“Why?” Carl asks.
“We’re just bogged. We’re stuck in a bog. No real reason.”
Carl nods understandingly. “A shitty business, eh? Ah. All businesses are shitty, I suppose.” Carl slips into his slacks, reaches for his suspenders.
“Say, ” he continues. “If you ever want to come to one of these galas, grab that girlfriend of yours and we’ll double-date. I hate these things. I don’t even know what this one is for. The opera, I think. Or maybe some theater company raising money for a new theater. They’re all the same. Are my braces straight?”
He turns his back to Evan.
“Straight as an arrow, ” Evan says.
“Clean as a whistle, ” Carl replies. He takes his bow tie off the bed and loops it over his neck. He stands before the dressing mirror next to the closet.
“You tie it like a shoelace, ” he mutters as if he isn’t quite convinced it’s that easy, even after all these years.
Evan watches him and is taken by how gentle they all are with each other—he, his father, his mother—considering how close they were to disaster at their last meeting. Carl has had his stitches removed; the wound looks good, tucked neatly against his hairline. No mention is made of their last, violent words. The white elephant, Dean, is nowhere in sight. Time is the longest distance between two places.
Louise emerges from the bathroom wearing a dressing gown.
“We’re looking forward to Saturday, ” she says. “Charlie called me a little while ago and told me you’d invited them. What did you say your girlfriend’s name was?”
“Mica.”
“How do you spell that?”
“M-I-C-A.”
“What a beautiful name.”
And then she does something strange. She reaches out and touches Evan’s cheek lightly.
“Such a pretty boy, ” she says faintly, almost inaudibly.
She smiles a closed-lipped smile at Evan. She looks better when she smiles with her lips apart, but she’s ashamed of her teeth. She’d grown up poor and with crooked teeth, so, as an adult, she’d trained herself to smile with her lips together. Evan feels a little bad for her and her smile. She could have that corrected. They make adult braces. They’re invisible.
“Your father’s going to cook a butterflied leg of lamb on the grill. Won’t that be nice?”
She goes into her closet, a large walk-in, big enough for a small family of immigrants.
Carl grimaces and mutters to himself: “Tie it like a shoelace, goddamn it.”
Louise reappears in a moment wearing a slip.
“Allison’s going to bring her macaroni salad. I love her salad. And I’ll make vegetables, or a green salad—would a green salad make too many salads?”
“Who cares?” Carl groans.“Do I have a clip-on?”
“A surgeon who can’t tie his own tie, ” Louise frets. She takes charge of the silken ends. “Does Dean drink soda, or juice? Does he have a favorite dessert? I remember you and Charlie used to love mud pies from Baskin-Robbins. Every night in the summer. Every night. I wonder if they still make them.”
The tie is done, neat and tight.
“Thank you, dear, ” Carl says, relieved, kissing her cheek.
“I don’t think Dean’s coming on Saturday, ” Evan says, and the rides in Fantasyland grind to a halt, the children cry, Carl and Louise stare at Evan.
“Really?” Louise asks.“Why not?”
Good question. Why not?
“He wanted to stay with his grandmother in Walla Walla.”
They look at him hard for a moment. Then Carl breaks the spell: “I can understand that, ” he says. “The boy is going through an awful lot.”
“Yes, ” Louise agrees. “But I was so looking forward to seeing him. Charlie says he looks just like you. When is he returning from his visit?”
“Well, ” Evan says, “he may be staying with his grandmother from now on. It might be better for everyone. She’s willing to live in Tracy’s old house so Dean can go to his old school. I can go visit whenever I like; I can even have my own room there. And he can spend holidays here, and a few weeks in the summer. We could go on a family vacation together. But I’m not sure that I’m up for taking him full-time. You said so yourselves.”
Ah, the white elephant emerges from the bushes. How long would they have gone on ignoring their previous encounter? How long would they have denied the reality of having expelled Evan from the family. Who knows?
“It sounds like the most sensible thing, Evan, ” Carl declares, tugging at his tie. “The best for everyone involved.”
“Yes, I suppose so, ” Ellen says. She disappears again to finish dressing.
That’s it? No protest? No regret? A second of thought, and then it’s like cutting off the foot to save the leg—only the amputee will feel the lingering ache of the missing toes.
“She seems motivated, ” Carl says, “and devoted. I think you’ve made the right decision.”
Evan laughs to himself. Everything in his life has been done only to gain the approval of his father, and now that he has it, he can’t rejoice. How can he? He is made sick by their impassiveness. They tie everything neatly in a bundle and stick it in the closet. It’s all about reducing the amount of trouble.
Carl slips on his jacket, buttons it. He looks at himself in the mirror.
“But don’t you think you could prevail upon his grandmother to bring him over for a visit this weekend?” he asks. “She’s welcome also, of course. We could have a real party.” He meets Evan’s eyes through the mirror, and for maybe the first time in Evan’s life, he sees vulnerability in his father’s eyes.
“I’m not sure, ” Evan says. “I’d have to ask.”
“It would mean a tremendous amount to your mother. She’s been looking forward to this barbecue since you mentioned it. I can’t tell you how much she talks about it. She desperately wants to meet your son.”
“What about you?” Evan asks.“Do you want to meet him?”
Carl turns to face Evan, surprised by the question, or maybe he didn’t hear it at all. But it doesn’t matter because Louise steps between them: she’s ready.
“How do we look?” she asks, taking Carl’s arm.
How do they look? Like angels, like demons, like torturers, like saints. How do they look? Like his parents, only older.
“Like Mom and Dad in fancy clothes, ” Evan says.
Louise glides across the room with a smile on her face—is it a smile
that disguises her feelings?—and kisses his forehead.
“There’s food in the refrigerator, ” she says.
“Turn on the alarm when you leave, ” Carl adds.“And could you do me a favor and take Ralphy out and lock him in the kitchen when you go?”
They slip out of the room and out of the house.
Evan takes Ralphy for a run in the yard. The moon is full and bright. It lights up the entire Sound. Ralphy joyfully, relentlessly chases after a madrona stick that Evan throws.
Why is he disappointed with the outcome of the night? What did he expect? Did he really think they would react like Mica, that they would yell at him and tell him to go get Dean back?
No. He expelled Dean, and then he expelled the person who told him to retrieve Dean. That leaves him with the people who told him he never should have had Dean in the first place. It’s just like Mica said: it lays out perfectly; the way is clear; he can now go and become famous, like Tracy wanted.
He throws the stick for Ralphy until Ralphy finally gets tired and starts eating rocks. Then he takes the old dog inside and gives him some water. He kisses Ralphy’s nose. Ralphy looks up at Evan just once, then falls asleep on his soft, round pillow.
Evan watches Ralphy sleep for a few minutes, locks the kitchen gate, and turns on the alarm on his way out.
WHEN EVAN CLIMBS out of the taxi in the parking lot, Lars howls like a banshee and rushes at him. He grabs Evan’s head with his hands, huge and clammy like slabs of beef, and plants a kiss firmly on Evan’s lips.
“You are the man. You are. Nobody else, baby. Just you.”
Lars is glowing with excitement, and he’s bigger than Evan remembered. Only away a week and Lars has grown a couple of inches. His stick-straight polar-bear hair is short and standing at weird angles. Definitely styled. His cheeks are red. He looks like he’s dropped a couple of pounds.
“Are you on a diet?” Evan asks.
“Yes. Absolutely. The camera adds ten pounds. I’ve been starving myself since last week. What do you think of my hair?”
“It’s nice.”
“My mom sent me to her hairdresser, some twinkle-toes at the Lake Forest Park Mall. But he knows how to use the gel, right?”
