“You’re kind of serious,” she had said. “I know your mom is sick, but it’s made you serious and kind of glum.” He supposed he did seem kind of glum compared to Jack’s sarcastic but appealing manner. At the time, he had been glad that his mother was too absent to notice his pain and embarrassment. Now, he felt guilty to think there was anything good about her being sick. Plus, it might have helped to talk to her.
“Not really,” he lied. “I mean, I’m mostly in the lab. Why? Are you seeing someone?”
“Oh, I’m always seeing someone,” Jack drawled. This described him from an early age. He’d been one of those thirteen year-olds that girls liked and then never stopped liking. Their mother, still there for the early days of his appeal, would warn them both: “Use that power carefully and be kind. Kindness isn’t everything,” she’d say, “but it’s almost everything.”
Dylan had known she was really talking about Jack because, unlike Jack, he wasn’t noticeable enough to girls to be in any position to exploit them. After his heartbreak, he had laid low until midway through college. The interesting girls weren’t interested in him, and he was wary of the ones whose taste for bad boys suddenly evaporated. They seemed like they might be the kind who wanted to leave college matched up with a boyfriend who was at least a marriage possibility. Or maybe somehow he just knew he should wait.
“But, hey, what about Dad?” Jack asked. “When did we see him last? Four weeks? Five? Does he seem at all weird to you? On the phone, I mean.”
“You mean how you feel he isn’t listening to anything you say? And he keeps talking about being really busy, like that’s something new.”
“Yeah, I was wondering if he’d say he was too busy for us to come this weekend. But he seemed happy about it. And dinner tomorrow at La Bonne Vie. Kind of surprised a visit from us is that big a deal for him.”
“Well, when you look at his life—I hope we’re a big deal. I mean, I hope that we help. In general.”
They drove the rest of the way without talking much. Jack searched out the worst of AM talk radio so that they could quote some gems to their father, and then they played cuts of the CD’s they’d each made for him. Switching their father to downloads or streaming was going slowly.
David waited on the front porch. A Jehovah’s Witness tract slipped from the storm door as he opened it and he studied the new title. The first, some months ago, had been THIS WAS YOUR LIFE! The second read YOU ARE DEAD A LONG TIME. Now he was looking at LIFE IN A PEACEFUL NEW WORLD with a drawing of paradise with impossibly large blueberries that the Hispanic mother and daughter could pick without bending over. A brown bear at their side docilely allowed the child to feed him. David hoped it was an omen that he could be loved by Jane for some reasonable period of time before he was scheduled for his long, long death.
As he waited, the order of the pamphlets began to seem deliberate and he wondered if it was a muted cry from young missionaries. He decided that if he were ever home for their visit, he would talk to the pair—didn’t they travel in pairs like Mormons? He would offer non-threatening sympathy and provide asylum. Dylan and Jack would advise him on the deprogramming, and he and Jane would shower love and education on the youths. “This is it,” he would say. “This is your life. Spend it carefully. There is no more where this came from. Don’t waste your time on stranger’s porches.”
He heard a loud honk. “That was Jack,” Dylan said as he trotted up the steps. “He thought he could scare you.”
“He did. I was daydreaming.” David hugged him and then Jack.
They moved into the kitchen and made their way through a pile of tacos and some Mexican beer. Even Jack was nursing his, and Dylan finally said, “Come on, college boy, that’s how you drink?”
“I’ve sort of lost my taste for drinking a lot. Talk about Snake Pit, I am cured of bingeing. And the girls, Jesus, if I have a daughter, I’m putting her up for adoption. There are just no boundaries among the female sex anymore.”
David and Dylan gaped. Dylan said, “I think our work is done, Pa. He is all growed-up.” He and David high-fived each other.
“They said it couldn’t be done, but here I am, wiser every day,” Jack said.
They went back to customizing their tacos and eating, though more slowly. Taking advantage of a lull, David said, “I need to talk about something serious.”
Jack jumped in. “Is it Mom? Is she okay?”
“No, it isn’t Mom. And, no, she’s not okay, but nothing’s worse.” He moved his beer two inches to the right. “I need to tell you that I met someone—a woman. Her name is Jane. She’s a social worker and she worked briefly at the L but doesn’t anymore. She’s been divorced for many years, no kids. I’ve invited her to dinner tomorrow so you can meet her. I like her and I have no idea how you’ll feel about this.”
Dylan felt like someone had died. He wanted to cry. He wanted to tell his father to wait longer, though for how long and for what purpose he couldn’t say. He finally looked straight at his dad and started to speak, “I…” was as far as he got. He had talked to Jack as if he was ready for this—as if he was so mature that he could recognize his dad as a person. He tried again. “I’m picturing Mom as she used to be, and it feels like you’re being unfaithful. I know she’s not here. But she still is.”
He looked at Jack for help.
“Why are you doing this?” Jack started in a quiet voice but spoke louder with each word. “Why? No, I don’t want to know why. You could have sex and not tell us. This is…creepy.” He reached for his beer. His voice got quiet again and he slumped in his chair. “I guess it’s a good thing. For you.”
Dylan asked, “Is that her?” and David looked up to see Jane walking tentatively towards them, managing to look beautiful, friendly, and afraid. Both boys stood when she reached the table, something he had no recollection of either Kate or him teaching them. David stood to introduce them, and Jane gave each a quick smile and a longer look. She seemed almost transfixed.
“I’ve never been to this restaurant,” Jane said, as they all sat. “I don’t know why. No occasion ever seemed special enough.” She looked as if she’d just given something away. “It’s so beautiful.”
“We’re really glad to meet you,” Dylan said.
“Yes, and I want you to know that we don’t plan on reenacting a bunch of movies about step-mothers: Nanny McPhee, Parent Trap, and of course, Step-Mother.” Jack added this cheerfully and ignored his brother’s pointed stare.
“Your dad told me about you guys and movies. And The Simpsons. Thank you for not making me a villainess. I really appreciate that.”
“Well, we’re a pretty reasonable family, you’ll find.” Jack smiled.
“More to the point, we want our dad to be happy,” Dylan said.
Jack said, “I can’t tell you how great it is that you’re not a grad student or something.”
Jane’s smile broadened. “Thank you. I thought that was really clever of your dad, too.”
They studied their menus, sometimes reading aloud and occasionally correcting each other’s French, which none of them actually spoke. No one mentioned the birthdays and anniversaries celebrated here with Kate.
“I want to order last so I can change my mind,” Jane announced.
“Change your mind a lot, do you?” David asked.
“Only about food.”
It might have been his imagination, but David thought both boys were now checking Jane out more carefully.
They ordered, and Jane did go last, though it flustered the elderly waiter and, like the boys, she chose the beef. David wondered at the fact of being here with his sons and a woman he’d known for only a few months. Where was Kate? Shouldn’t she walk in right about now? And Jane would fade out—or Jane would be Kate’s co-worker who he was finally to meet. And he would find her attractive and nothing more.
“I don’t know a single person here,” Jane said. “I always pictured it like a private club where all the special people went. Th
is city’s not that big, but I don’t recognize a soul.”
Jack said, “Well, I can guarantee you I don’t know anyone here, except maybe in the kitchen. There’s probably a few stoners from high school washing dishes.”
“Are you happy with your choice of where to go to school?” Jane asked and then drew Jack out about college and then Dylan about grad school. David could tell Dylan enjoyed talking about his work without having to explain every term. She knew the basics of his research.
After they each told her their highlights, she watched the busboy refill her water and then said, “I didn’t have a chance to get to know your mother. I would have liked to have known—”
“After Jane moved on to other assignments,” David said, “I missed talking to her and we started spending some time together.” He could finally understand how a person might give a false confession.
The boys were looking at him curiously, perhaps wondering how far he was prepared to explain himself.
“Sorry, I kind of changed the subject, didn’t I? What were we talking about?”
“Mom,” Dylan said. “But we were pretty much done.”
David and Jane waited in the small front garden while Jack and Dylan went to get the cars.
“They’re lovely young men,” Jane said. “Smart, loving, funny, polite.”
“I don’t know. Jack seemed a little challenging—or provocative—or something. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Jack was fine. Think about the situation—he was just fine. They want you to be happy, but that doesn’t mean it will make them happy. Really, I have generously low expectations of your family.”
“I appreciate that,” David said, “and it will probably come in handy.”
“Just hang out with them tonight. You don’t need to call me—I don’t want to fixate on what they think of me, though I changed my dress three times before leaving the house.”
“Hey,’ he said. He kissed her on the cheek. “They have no voting rights in this. Can we meet for breakfast at nine? They won’t be up yet.”
She nodded.
“Tomorrow unknown,” he said, “but today we are lucky.”
“You sound like a fortune cookie.”
“I am more or less quoting my most recent cookie.”
David woke to the unwelcome wide-awake state of having drunk too much wine. He had been nervous enough to go past his usual ration. Dehydrated, he walked toward the kitchen to find some juice and was surprised to see light from the kitchen spilling into the dark hallway. As he got closer, he heard the murmur of voices. He stood in the entrance and saw Jack and Dylan, their backs to him, sitting at the table, empty except for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He couldn’t make out what they were saying and then realized the sounds were coming from the living room. The boys had put on the few hours of cobbled-together home movies that David had finally transferred from tape to DVD. Dylan was slumped in a chair, his arms folded. David saw him wipe his face on his sleeve. Jack sat with his head down, resting his forehead in his hands. He was crying quietly. David backed away unnoticed.
Arriving early, David got their drinks—Jane’s extra-hot to keep for her—and then he grabbed a table that would let him see her when she came into the café. The boys wanted to see Kate that afternoon before they left and he was debating about going along. He thought he wouldn’t go. He was almost always with them when they spent time with her. Even thinking about the energy it took for him to try to make the time more pleasant exhausted him.
“You look so serious,” she said. “Is everything okay?” He had missed Jane’s arrival and she was already seated across from him.
“I think I just decided not to go today when the boys visit their mother.”
“Oh.” She made a small sound but then stopped.
“Stand up, Jane.” She did and he hugged her, then kissed her on the mouth.
“That wasn’t much of a welcome, so we’re doing a second take.”
Flushed, she knocked the Sunday paper off the table as she sat down.
“I notice you’re still referring to us as we. I take it this means me meeting the boys went okay?”
“It went fine. They’re sad guys right now, but not about you.”
“None of you seem like sad people. You’re funny. You’re enthusiastic.”
“We are that, too. And I’m in love. The boys can’t find a new love to replace Kate. I’m in love. It really makes up for a lot of things.”
Neither of them had so far used that word and Jane froze at the sound of it. He leaned forward and said, “Yes, Jane, I mean you. I am besotted, bowled over, and conquered. Also surrendered and vanquished. None of which I ever thought possible.”
“You do have a vocabulary,” she said, smiling.
“Did you notice it was alphabetical?”
“Yes. Skillfully alphabetized.” She looked down long enough that he started to worry. Perhaps he had misread her. Then she looked up and said, “That is a very beautiful way to start the day. I’m sorry that I’m not good at saying it. Can I just say ‘me too’ for now?”
He nodded and grabbed her hand and held it. “Let’s go pick out some food, and then you can tell me in more detail everything you like about my sons. I need to introduce you to some people on the way.” He had noticed Martha and Don across the room. “Or maybe not today. You can meet the neighbors later.”
She looked at him intently and said, “I think your kids are great. And I’m going to think that no matter what happens.” She must have guessed he was about to make a wisecrack because she put her finger to his lips and added, “Just leave it at that.”
They took their place in line. She struggled as usual with ordering food. He encouraged her to get both of her choices, and they made their way back to the table, balancing plates. She arranged her food but didn’t eat.
“Do I have to come right out and ask you what else the boys said? Or are you actually trying to torment me?”
“I’m sorry. Of course you’d—but like I said before, they don’t have that kind of power.”
“You are so naive.”
“They like you. They liked your self-sufficiency. In some ways, you reminded them of their mother. And of course, they love it that you’re so very, very old.”
They both laughed. “Do you think they’d like me even better if I were seventy?”
“You will be someday. So maybe we’ll find out.”
Quickly, she began to eat.
Dylan and Jack stopped at the desk to sign in, and the unfamiliar clerk said, “How nice of you to visit.” She directed them to try Kate’s room first. Halfway down the hall, Jack said, “I hope she’s there. I hate doing a whole tour of this place to find her.”
They knocked on her slightly ajar door and walked in. She was sitting near the window, and when they greeted her, she turned her head, but her expression didn’t change. “What do you want?” she said. They reminded her who they were and she brightened. They sat and began to tell her things, describing every possible event or accomplishment they could think of.
During one silence, she began to sing “Yankee Doodle,” one of the songs she’d sung hundreds of times for Jack. But that was the only song, and eventually they talked over her silence, with Jack asking Dylan directly what it was like to work in a windowless lab so much of the day.
“You actually forget about the weather, so it’s kind of shocking to go outside. We call it ‘the womb,’ as in ‘This street is freaking me out; I’m going back to the womb.’ ” Kate smiled a little when they laughed.
“What does Dad do when he comes here alone?” Jack said quietly.
“He says he talks to her for a while, then reads the paper. ‘My whole life, I’ve never had time to get through a real newspaper, and here I am—lots of time for it—so lucky.’ ” Dylan’s mimicry of their father’s delivery got a second smile from Kate, and for a moment her expression was familiar.
“You boys,” she said, and they bo
th leaned forward for something more, but she inched back in her chair.
When the boys pulled up at the house, David was waiting on the porch, nervous about whether seeing their mother had changed their acceptance of Jane. They sat on either side of him on the wide first step.
“She still looks really nice,” Jack said.
“Martha buys her new clothes when she needs them.”
There was nothing but the sound of an occasional car passing. “And Martha does her hair sometimes. And brings someone in from time to time. For color maybe?”
They went in the house and the brothers raced around packing. “Glasses, contact lens cases, phones, chargers, mail that shouldn’t be coming here—take it all,” David called out. “And socks. Especially socks.”
“The staff at this hotel is so uppity!” one of them yelled. “Only the price keeps us coming back!”
They came thundering down the stairs and onto the porch. Dylan hugged David and said, “Let us know when you tell Grandma and Grandpa,” and David knew this meant Kate’s parents.
There was never any confusion about who the grandparents were. His parents were witty, educated, popular, and charming, which he had realized early on were terrible qualifications for being a parent. The last adjective was the one most often attached to them, and he had grown to hate the word. Sensibly, they had not wanted children. He was a birth control failure whom they were kind enough to take in, like dutiful foster parents. While they could be instructive and entertaining, he hadn’t quite felt loved. The mere fact that he’d been told of his unwelcome conception had alienated Kate beyond the possibility of any genuine friendship with them.
Last week when he called, his mother said, as usual, “Oh, David, I’m so glad you called. We were just thinking about calling you.” They never called, but there was no point in correcting her. He and his mother chatted, with David careful to speak in concise sentences. He could hold her attention for a very short paragraph before her willingness to listen evaporated. She asked how his book was coming and perhaps he was feeling reckless, because he risked a reply.
The Half-Life of Everything Page 7
