Just 18 Summers

by Rene Gutteridge

  Daphne, however, seemed fully engulfed in something else. It wasn’t immediately clear what that was. Since she’d gotten pregnant, Tippy had lamented on the job site every day about what was happening to his wife. “She’s lost her mind,” he would whisper, almost like she might be somewhere close enough to hear him make the confession. Last week he’d described her sudden need to clean everything in the house—and not just clean, but scrub “till the germs scream and run.” But she seemed fine to Butch when they worked on the company’s books, so it was hard to know.

  “Are you two coming to the party?” Beth asked them.

  Tippy nodded just as Daphne answered, “Oh, we can’t. The book says I need to synchronize my sleep schedule with when I want the baby to sleep. I’m already six minutes late for my nap.”

  “Yeah, what was up with Madison’s speech? I think the polar ice caps melted during point number seven,” Tippy said.

  “Shhh!” Daphne subtly pointed over her shoulder in a way that said, Don’t look. Naturally Butch looked.

  Oooooh. He was putting it together. Madison’s mom was Helen, a lady Jenny used to scrapbook with. They were neighbors with Beth and Larry. He’d thought they looked vaguely familiar in a neighborhood-barbecue sort of way.

  Daphne rubbed her belly with both hands, circles in opposite directions like the “wax on, wax off” scene from The Karate Kid. “Beth, I’ll see you at scrapbooking,” she said.

  Butch glanced at Tippy, who looked weary just thinking about what was ahead for him at home. “See you at work tomorrow, buddy,” Butch said.

  “Save me,” Tippy mouthed as Daphne pulled him along. They disappeared into the crowd.

  Butch wished he could offer Tippy some advice, but the truth was, he wasn’t around much when Jenny was pregnant with Ava. He was consumed with work, trying to make enough money to support this kid he was bringing into the world. He’d worked long hours and weekends, too. Before he knew it, the pregnancy was over and Ava had arrived.

  The conversation moved on to other things and Butch was left alone for a moment. He observed Ava chatting with the adults like she was one of them. When he was eight, he couldn’t have carried on a conversation with an adult if his life depended on it.

  He was about to grab Ava and leave when he once again found himself within earshot of Helen. He tried to remember her husband’s name. Jenny had talked about them, said they were the kind of people she had a hard time relating to. But Jenny always found the best in everyone. She had faith in people even when they didn’t deserve it. She believed every person had a good side.

  He took a couple of steps back, just for eavesdropping purposes, and turned slightly to observe as he heard the father ask if Madison was ready for her gift.

  Diamond earrings, Butch guessed. That’s what he would want to get Ava for her graduation gift, even though he’d have to save for months.

  He noticed no one was holding any kind of gift. Instead the father took Madison by the shoulders and turned her toward the parking lot. “Right there,” he said, pointing.

  Helen and Madison were both looking the direction he pointed, as was Butch. They all saw it at the same time: a brand-new black Mustang with a big yellow bow on it. The father handed Madison the keys and she squealed, jumping up and down, hugging everyone around her, then running toward the car, two younger siblings trailing in delight.

  Butch stared at the car in disbelief. He’d wanted a Mustang his whole life.

  “Can we really afford that, Charles?” Helen asked.

  Charles. Right. That was his name. Jenny said she’d met him only a couple of times but that he seemed to be an uptight kind of fellow. He and Helen looked to be in their early forties, but their stuffy ways—and late-generation names—suggested they were older.

  “Oh yes,” Charles said. He didn’t appear that uptight. He’d bought a car without his wife knowing and seemed extremely sure it was okay.

  “Do you know something about our budget that I don’t?” Helen asked.

  Butch was in a full-blown stare now. She really didn’t have a clue that Charles had bought a car, and by the strained look on her face and the way her eyebrows were almost touching her hairline, Butch realized this could get ugly very fast. At least there was something interesting to listen to on this football field.

  Charles turned toward his wife and took her hands. “Well . . . I was going to wait until after the party to tell you this, but since you asked . . . I got a promotion!”

  Helen jumped into his arms. It felt a bit like Christmas Vacation, when Clark announced they were getting a pool, until she abruptly stopped the hug and adjusted herself from the top down.

  “It’s a big one, too!” Charles said.

  But the squealing was apparently over. Butch sighed and turned away from the glee. He observed Ava for a moment and wondered if diamond earrings would be the last thing on earth she’d want. Was he that out of touch? Didn’t every girl want diamond earrings?

  No. Every girl wanted a sports car. How was he going to be able to afford a car for her? At best, it’d be an old clunker, the kind with half the paint stripped off that you could hear coming a mile away.

  Just then Larry, Beth’s husband, gathered everyone around and turned to Nathan. “We got you a present!”

  “What?” Nathan asked.

  “Here you go!” And with great dramatic flair, he held out keys.

  Butch shifted his attention to Nathan, expecting him to howl with excitement. He didn’t.

  “These are the keys to the car I already own,” Nathan said flatly.

  “I know. I filled it up with gas.”

  “Oh. Awesome.” Nathan, good kid that he was, was trying awfully hard to look enthusiastic, but his shineless eyes weren’t cooperating.

  Larry smiled and patted him on the back. “And there might be a check on the driver’s seat.”

  Nathan grinned and started trotting toward the car.

  Family wasn’t his thing, but Butch knew there was a reason he liked Jenny’s so much. They were grounded, for one. And as he watched Ava cling to Beth’s waist, he knew no matter what, he had to keep them in her life, even if it meant having Beth come do his laundry once a month.

  He just hoped his little girl could endure a life full of disappointments. He wasn’t going to be able to give her what Jenny had given her. Jenny had almost a magical way about her, like she was born to be a mom and had superpowers to prove it.

  Butch, on the other hand, knew how to draw a paycheck and keep up on the mortgage. That was it.

  There was no fairy dust. Just sawdust.

  “Come on, Ava,” Butch said, taking her hand. “Time to go.”

  “Are we going to the party?” she asked. Beth slid an arm around her shoulder. A hopeful expression grew on both their faces.

  “Well, um . . . yeah, maybe we’ll stop by. We’ve got things to do. Laundry and whatnot. We’ll see.”

  Ava began walking, glancing back at Beth. “That’s a no, if you’re wondering.”

  Butch waved and they walked to the truck together. Maybe he should take Ava to do something fun today. A trip to the park. He opened the door and she climbed into the front seat, where Jenny would’ve never let her ride, but where she’d been riding since the day Jenny died.

  Once inside the truck, he turned on the air conditioner full blast. Her hair blew backward like she had stepped into the path of a hurricane. It looked like she was riding the wind. The seat nearly swallowed her whole, though. Sometimes, with all her wisdom and maturity, he had to be reminded of how small she was.

  As he managed his way out of the crowded parking lot, Butch knew the truth was that he didn’t really know how to talk to his daughter. He knew he should talk more. Mostly they watched TV together and let other people do the talking for them.

  “Cool enough?” he asked over the noise of the air conditioner.

  Ava nodded. Her cheeks were returning to their normal color.

  “Hey, listen, sorry a
bout the sweater thing. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “That’s okay.” Just like her mom, she always forgave. Always.

  He reached for the radio. “Mind if I put on the game?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He smiled at her because above all things, he loved to see her smile.

  And on cue, she did. “Go Chiefs.” She pumped her fist.

  “Red Sox.”

  “Football?”

  “Baseball. It’s baseball season now.”

  “Oh. Got it. Go Red Sox.”

  “You betcha. They’re going to be good this year.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yep.”

  “Pizza tonight again?”

  “You want hot wings instead?”

  “Pizza’s okay. Hot wings are usually just for adults.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He smiled and drove on, but he knew something—he’d never really understood women, and he certainly didn’t understand them in pint size.

  CHAPTER 2

  BETH

  “THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING!” From the door of her home, Beth waved graciously at the final guests to leave the party. They were church friends whose daughter used to babysit Nathan. That sweet, mature teenager was now an attorney with two kids of her own. How was that possible?

  Inside, she heard the commotion of her family still buzzing with the excitement of the party. She stood with her back against the door, observing streamers scattered across the wood floor, balloons deflating on the table, a half-eaten cake with clumps of icing on her finest silver cake server.

  She could still remember Nathan’s first taste of cake, on his first birthday—a small version of the big cake they’d served to family. He’d gobbled it down without even a second thought. Robin, her eldest, had taken an entirely different approach to her first piece of cake. She gently stuck her finger into the icing, prodding it as if testing to see if it was alive. With great hesitation, she licked a very small piece of icing off that finger, eyed the slice suspiciously, then pointed to a spoon. Once she had a utensil in hand, she went forward, eating the cake with the other hand, holding the spoon in the air the entire time. Chip wouldn’t touch his cake and to this day had a strong aversion toward icing that nobody could really explain. Beth thought it might be due to the cupcake binge she’d gone on three days before he was born.

  Now, in a few short weeks, Nathan would be off to college. Robin was home for the summer. She’d been away at college, getting her basics, undecided in her life goals, but Beth tried not to push. A couple of months ago Robin had talked about taking some summer classes. They’d have to discuss that soon. After that, only Chip would be left at home, and if Beth wasn’t careful, in the blink of an eye he’d be gone . . . grown. He was already taller than she, passing her by two inches in the spring.

  Beth stepped toward the cake table, taking the knife and wiping the icing off with a napkin. What was happening to her life? When had motherhood begun to flee? It was the only thing she knew. She could barely remember life before kids. What did she do with all her time?

  Cupping her hand, she began dusting the crumbs off the table into the other hand. Behind her, echoes of the family all together, all under the same roof, gave her peace.

  Soon she went to join them in the living room, smiling through the pain of realizing that come August, they were going to lose Nathan. Not lose him like he was a set of keys, but lose him from the safe haven of the only place he’d called home. He’d gotten a scholarship to Ohio State. It was a fifteen-hour-and-thirty-two-minute trip by car, if you averaged Google Maps with MapQuest. She’d checked it three times.

  Beth paused just inside the room, listening to Nathan laugh. His voice was so deep. He was, after all, eighteen, but she could still see that boyish charm in those big, beautiful eyes, now shadowed by a strong brow, just like his father’s. Robin giggled the same way she had since she was two. Beth watched them all as they relived the “worst valedictorian speech ever,” with Chip, fourteen going on twelve, imitating Madison as she kept flipping her hair with her fingers while she spoke. “Shhh!” Beth said. The Buckleys were their neighbors, and though she was certain a great deal of space and building materials separated the two homes, Helen was nosy enough to render walls useless.

  “You did great, honey,” Larry said, walking to Beth and bringing her to his side. “That cake was amazing! Glad we have some left.” He pecked her cheek and grabbed the remote to turn on the TV. She marveled at how he didn’t seem at all bothered by the “lasts” that were taking place right in front of their eyes.

  Nathan, engrossed in his phone, lightly punched her on the arm as he walked by. “Yeah. Good party, Mom.”

  She mustered a smile while remembering him standing in that very spot, holding his diaper in one hand and a wipe in another, having decided at the age of eighteen months that he was perfectly capable of changing himself. Then he wet the floor. It had been such an inconvenience . . . they were late for church and she had a big mess to clean up. But what she wouldn’t give to be able to hold him in his diaper again.

  “I’m going to bed,” she said, starting to head upstairs.

  “What? So soon?” Larry asked. “Cake Boss is on.”

  “I’m all graduated out. . . .” She smiled like she meant it, but a lot was changing. This wasn’t her first time to have a child move out. Yet she was taking it much worse than she had imagined. Why? She’d always had great plans for that middle bedroom upstairs. It had its own bathroom . . . perfect for a guest bedroom, she thought. She’d reimagined it a hundred different ways thanks to all the home-decorating shows. Now she’d give anything to keep the Star Wars sheets on the bed.

  “Good call,” Larry said. “I’ll DVR it for you.”

  “Okay,” Beth said lightly. Upstairs, she grabbed her pajamas and went into the bathroom to change. But once she closed the door, the tears she’d been holding in all day caught up to her. She leaned on the bathroom counter and tried to compose herself, but they kept coming. Closing the toilet lid, she sat down and rested her head in her hands, elbows on her knees.

  “Jenny . . . ,” she sobbed. This would be a time when she would normally call her sister, drive over in her pajamas, and they’d eat ice cream while Jenny somehow found the bright side to it all. Now Beth had to find the bright side all by herself. She’d spent every day of her life praying for her children and her family and her marriage. God had always been there, easy to talk to. But tonight her prayers were like hollow, empty echoes against the cold bathroom tile.

  Beth wiped her eyes when she heard Larry come into the bedroom. He rummaged through his closet. She sniffed the last of her emotions up and away and quickly changed into her pajamas. She scrubbed her face and teeth and then opened the bathroom door. Larry was at the foot of the bed untying his shoes.

  “Robin is back!” Beth sang. “That’s what I’m going to focus on. Robin is back for the summer, and God knew I needed all three here for a little bit with Nathan leaving.”

  “Are you okay?” Larry’s eyes were wide.

  “I just came into the room telling you my positive thoughts.”

  “I know. But you look terrified.”

  “I do?”

  “A little. In the eyes.”

  Beth dropped to the bed, falling backward and resting with her arms flung open against the comforter. “I’m just trying to not fall apart, I guess.”

  “Me too.”

  Beth looked at him. “What do you mean? You seem fine.”

  Larry shrugged and said nothing. He took his pajamas and went to the bathroom, quietly closing the door.

  Larry was fine. He was always fine. He was a rock. She had to be strong too. That’s what Jenny would’ve told her—to be strong and find the good.

  CHAPTER 3

  LARRY

  LARRY STOOD as Gerald shook his hand. “Great job, Larry. These sales numbers are impressive. I usually dre
ad the board meetings, but not tonight. You’ve done an amazing job turning all this around.”

  “Thanks, Gerald. Let me know how the evening goes.”

  “You want to join us afterward for dinner? Don Huffman will be there, and it never hurts to rub shoulders with him.”

  “Nah. Going home tonight. Nathan’s leaving for college in the fall, so I want to . . .”

  But Gerald had lost interest as his phone dinged with a text. Larry smiled to himself. Right now Gerald’s kids were still in junior high, so maybe he couldn’t relate. One day he’d know.

  Larry got himself some coffee and went to his desk. He tried to focus on work, but his mind was captured with ideas about what he and Nathan could do together this summer. Maybe catch a Chiefs game. Or go see the Grand Canyon. Do a Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives tour.

  An hour sped past, interrupted by his office phone buzzing and his secretary’s voice coming through crackled and irritated, which was nothing new. Carol was the kind of person nearly every other person feared becoming when they got old. Two more years and she’d be retired. He didn’t want young and flirty for her replacement. He just wanted stable and flexible and not chained to nicotine. Carol had finally switched over to the new vapor cigarettes. Every time he walked by, she was sucking on those things like a baby with a pacifier. She had nearly every flavor they made, but they didn’t seem to make her less cranky.

  “Larry, your daughter is here to see you.”

  “My daughter?”

  “That’s what I said. She has her boyfriend with her.”

  “Her . . . her what?”

  “Send them on down or what?”

  “Um, yes. Please.”

  Larry stood and opened his office door. What was Robin doing here? She never came to his work. He wouldn’t have even thought she knew how to get to his office. His heart filled with dread. This couldn’t be good, whatever the reason was.

  Robin breezed down the hallway in a yellow sundress. Behind her was a guy he recognized, a friend of hers, dressed a little slouchy for Larry’s taste—flip-flops, jeans that dragged on the ground, and hair past his chin, cut exactly how Beth had worn hers when Robin was tiny.