by Trixie More
“You’re back, cookie! We’re so glad to see you.” Rose was smiling at her, hustling between the kitchen and the bar, setting herself and her husband up with coffee. “Tell me what you decided.”
“Decided?” She was bemused.
“Certainly! What did you decide about the business? What did you decide about Derrick?” Rose looked at her expectantly.
Angelo shot Allison a look that said, see how she is?
“I’m not sure that I can decide anything about Derrick,” she started.
“Of course you can! You think men decide these things?”
Angelo, seated behind Rose mugged it up, rolling his eyes and swirling his hand in the air. Allison smiled.
He spoke up. “First, Ms. Walton and I have to talk business, Rose.”
Rose swiveled on her stool, facing her husband, and although Allison couldn’t see the woman’s face, it was clear she was hissing instructions to Angelo that included the words girl, Derrick, children, and something suspiciously like don’t fuck this up.
Rose turned back to face Allison, smoothed her wrinkled hand with its sparkling wedding set over her short gray hair. “You and Angelo can work things out. I’m going to go call Marley.” Rose started heading to the kitchen, stopping for a second before she opened the door. “It was her idea to change the sign. She said to tell you that you’re welcome.” Rose’s laughter trickled out as she left Allison and Angelo to their conversation.
Angelo cleared his throat.
“Sounds like you got your marching orders,” Allison joked.
“Woman thinks she knows everything,” he replied.
“She knows enough to have a family that adores her,” Allison said. “That doesn’t happen by accident.”
Angelo turned down his mouth in a shrug. “No. It doesn’t.”
“I’m sorry I flaked out,” Allison tried.
“Don’t apologize to me for that. I get paid either way.”
Allison raised her glass to that and took a good pull.
“Did I say something to you that day in the kitchen that upset you?” he asked.
Surprised, she hurried to reassure him. “No, no! You were wonderful to me. Why would you ask that?”
“You left right after, and Derrick thought it was something I said.”
Sadness curled through her, and she looked away.
“Allison, we’ll work out the money. It’s just money, the most important thing on the planet.”
She laughed at that and turned back to him. “I didn’t know you very well.”
“I’m inscrutable.”
She laughed again. “You told me that I’d always be in debt and that I couldn’t do it alone.”
“And you thought I was serious?”
“Haha, Angelo. I know you were serious.” She swallowed her ale. “I didn’t think I had anyone besides myself. I didn’t see a way to do it any other way than alone, and I hate being in debt. So, I figured all I had ahead of me was more debt and more failure.”
“And now?”
“Pretty much debt and failure. That’s what I’m thinking.” She laughed again.
Angelo rubbed his hands over his face.
“But I’m starting to think I have some friends who might want to go down with me.”
“Well, I hope you take Glen and Tony back as customers, at least until you go under. They’re trying to turn my bar into a breakfast shop.” Angelo turned serious, resting his lean forearms on the bar, tipping his head to see her face. “What changed?”
She didn’t know how to explain it. Nothing had changed really, except her dad didn’t want her to pay him back. He offered her some money. He wanted her to be happy.
“I want to be happy,” she said.
Angelo looked at her, waiting her out. No wonder Derrick loved him so much.
“And the shop, and you guys? I’m happy with that.” She spun her empty glass, put her purse on the bar and took out a sheet of paper. “Can we renegotiate this?”
Taking the copy of their contract from her, Angelo rose, pulling his spectacles from his breast pocket. He headed behind the bar, to the tiny office.
“Well? Come on then, girl.”
Allison got up and followed the man she intended to turn into her mentor.
“All right Little Ricky,” Ben was moving pretty quickly this morning for as many shots as he’d done last night. They’d both hit it hard once Ben’s secret was out. “I’m bouncin’. You sure you wanna call out?”
“Yeah,” Derrick said. He was seated at the worktable, using a swing arm magnifier to see the robot he was working on. “I got vacation time to burn, and I just feel like workin’ on these today.” He looked up and smiled at his friend. For the first time in a long time, Ben seemed normal.
“Cool,” Ben said. He stood next to Derrick and perused the bots on the table. “Can I take this one? If I get a chance, I want to take him over to the union rep.”
Derrick shrugged. “Go for it.” He pushed back, handing the bot to Ben. From the moment Ben agreed to take over marketing the damn things, ideas for new bots had been flooding Derrick’s brain. Not having to deal with what happened to them after he built them? Awesome. “I’ll just keep building more.”
Ben grinned. “This is gonna be great.” He tucked the robot in his tool bag and headed out.
A couple hours later, Mr. Whiskers strolled across the worktable, disrupting Derrick’s morning of work. He picked the cat up and slung it behind his neck, front paws over his left shoulder, rear legs and tail over his right. The whole cat feeling like the warmest winter scarf ever made. He bent his head and peered through the magnifying glass, aligning wires inside a tiny finger. All morning he’d either been thinking about Allison, Sophia or Christopher Robot.
Thoughts of Allison seemed to be memories, swiftly followed by a deep wanting. Ben was going to find a woman and have a family. The guy said it like it was something you went out and got, like an order of fries, or a new socket wrench. How else would it happen? The thought stopped his fingers. Was that the way families happened? He’d thought having a family was sort of out of his control, as in, someday, a woman might meet him, make some personal decision and then tell him, look, Dude, you’re going to be a father. What if he had to make it happen? What if he was to say to Allison, look bossy, you’re going to be my wife?
Derrick pulled a tiny wire through the framework he’d created, attached it to a minute finger, dropping a bit of solder there. What do you want? That’s what his sister had asked him. Did he want kids? Did he expect them to drop out of the sky? He sat back, unwrapping MW from his shoulders. The cat wound itself around his chair leg.
His thoughts turned back to Christopher Robot. That one had so much potential, and it was already built. What could he make from it if he didn’t have to explain it to anyone? If the reason he worked on it was his alone? He had a robot already created and ready to go.
“Wanna go for a ride, MW?” Derrick took the cat’s silence to be a yes. If Debra ever came and took the cat back, she was in for a shock. He was going to ask for joint custody. Plus, the animal’s lifestyle was undergoing a significant upgrade. Turns out the cat liked riding in the truck.
Derrick attached a leash to the cat’s harness and hoisted him up under his arm, carrying him down to George’s garage. When they got there, he stashed MW in the cab. MW was a much cooler name than Mr. Whiskers, which was just too long. The garage was dirty, and MW had a mighty affinity for getting grease in his extravagant fur coat. Derrick checked the property, made sure that the windows were all in one piece and still locked. The Torino sat under a cloth, the owner willing to give George some time to return. The other two cars Derrick had arranged to have towed to another garage and repaired for their owners.
Everything in the place appeared in order. Derrick backed the truck out of the garage, locked up and headed north, back to the place where it all started.
His parent’s home in Pelham sat in all its old-fashioned and im
maculate glory on a street of understated wealth. The home was worth millions. The inside was insanely appointed, warm, homey and upgraded spectacularly. He pulled into the drive and let the cat out, holding the leash so MW could explore the grass. It was only moments before Tessa was outside in the yard.
“D!” She hustled over and gave him a hug, her light brown hair more gray than brown these days, her skin wrinkled and peppered with age spots across the backs of her hands and her cheeks. Her eyes were still lively; her smile was bright and open.
“I missed you, Tessa,” he said, the strength of the feeling unexpected but genuine just the same.
“Are you here to see your mom?”
Of course, she wouldn’t expect him to be here to see his dad. “Actually, I want to get something out of the garage.”
“That big robot?” How Tessa knew that, well, Derrick imagined it made sense. Tessa always favored him, and she’d know if there were one thing here he had to have, it would be a robot.
“Exactly,” he said. “Do you know where Soph put it?”
“What is that?” Tessa was pointing at the cat, rolling on its back in the grass, bits of debris stuck in its thick, cottony fur.
“That is what you get if you’re standing in the driveway when your friend’s wife and kids decide to go on the lamb.”
Tessa just wrinkled her brow.
“It’s a cat.”
“You don’t have pets,” she said.
“I’m trying something new. If this works, maybe I’ll pick up a wife and try that.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “I wish.” She walked briskly to the garage, punching in a code and opening one of the doors. “I think Sophia stuffed it up in the loft.” She disappeared into the gloom, flicking on the overhead light. Derrick put MW back in the cab, with the windows open, leash tied off to the steering wheel and followed her in. The cat was standing on the hood before he got in the garage. She was pointing to the ladder when a shadow fell over them both.
“Wasn’t expecting to find you here, son.” Spencer’s voice washed over Derrick. “Tessa, I think there’s a timer ringing in the kitchen.” The excuse was so transparent that both Tessa and Derrick shook their heads.
Derrick gave her a reassuring smile, and she squeezed his arm as she passed.
“Sure thing, Dr.” The mild smile hung on Derrick’s face as he watched his childhood advocate retreat across the green lawn.
“What brings you here, Derrick?” His father’s voice brought his attention back to the discussion at hand.
“Robot.”
“Something you threw out and Sophia rescued?”
Derrick was surprised his father knew Sophia did that. He shrugged. Words caught inside him, the familiar shame building but this time, something was different. It felt changed, like instead of being inside him, a part of him, the humiliation was somehow outside, laying over him like an ill-fitting coat or ragged blanket he might shrug off. The difference made him freeze in place. Derrick felt like he might jinx this new change before he understood it.
Derrick shook his head. This is about me. He didn’t want to think about Allison right now, but he couldn’t stop the memory of her, kneeling before him, her hands pressing against his thighs. The vision was so strong that he looked down at the floor of the garage.
So, no lackey of mine. Derrick swallowed. Why had she left?
Spencer Moss moved into the garage, looking around, ignoring his son’s silence. “What size is this robot?”
Derrick cleared his throat. “Fuh.” He cleared his throat again. “Five foot.”
“Silver? Waving arms made out of vacuum hoses?”
Was his father joking? Derrick wasn’t sure if he was deriding him or trying to be funny. He felt like he needed a translator.
“That was a joke. You know, like ‘danger Will Robinson’? Robot look anything like that?”
Wildly, Derrick could hear himself telling Allison she was very bad, an image of Allison at his feet. He had to get his shit together.
Derrick shook his head. Allison was going to be with him for a while. That’s how his days had been going. He’d forget her for a day, and then something would come up and then he could hardly focus on anything but thoughts of her.
He thought of himself leaning over her. The blinding whiteness of her magic bed, with the sign over it, ‘always kiss me good night’. Her bedside box of condoms, years old and still full. Her, with that sign hanging there, and nobody to ever act out her wish. You were always worth capitulating to. The ragged blanket of shame slipped further askew. Derrick held his breath, turning to watch his father search.
“Maybe it’s one of the black ones with the openings and the wires?” His father was behind the Mercedes now, looking on the shelving. Was he actually trying to help? Derrick stepped closer. It was his father’s turn to freeze, just one ear and the side of his face visible, his back straight as ever but not as tall? Could that be so? “What size did you say it was, Derrick?”
“Five foot.”
“Uh. So, not on these shelves then.” The great Dr. Moss pulled down on the rope that held the folding stairs to the loft. “What color, son?”
Derrick frowned. Was this a trick? “Black, with wires.” He’d been making robots out of the same materials for a while now. His father mounted the steps. Derrick waited for the punchline, listening to the sound of his father’s footsteps above him, the sound of something being dragged, his father grunting.
You were always perfectly strong and smart and worthy. Derrick blinked and started moving, mounting the steps, head popping through the opening to see his father holding the Christopher Robot under its arms, like a man carrying a drunken friend.
“I got it,” he hesitated, “Dad.”
His father looked up quickly, his pale eyes shocked. Derrick held his father’s gaze and lifted the robot from him. “I’ll follow you down,” Derrick said. “You can guide it.”
His father nodded, for once silent himself. Derrick watched his father line up his feet carefully with the steps, looking left and right, getting his hands squarely on the railing before backing down. A few steps from the bottom, he turned and reached up.
“OK, Derrick, ease it down.”
Derrick had to squash a rising impulse to disallow the assist, to carry the bot down himself, to protect his possession from a mishap, purposeful or not. Was this what Allison felt every time someone helped her? He remembered the argument over him taking the garbage from her.
Derrick thought of her, back against her bedroom doorframe, naked, one half in the hall, one in the bedroom, the sun streaming behind her. She’d liked being told what to do.
“Derrick?”
He collected himself, picked up the robot. “Yeah, Dad. Here it comes.” He passed the robot down, his father guiding the feet carefully to the floor while Derrick climbed down. His dad steadied the robot while Derrick folded the stairs and put them back up.
“Where do you want it?”
Derrick pointed with his chin to the truck, and they carried it over, together, putting it in the bed of the vehicle. Derrick hopped in and tied it down. His father wandered away.
“Is that a cat? You have a cat?”
Derrick felt his chest lift and fall with his deep breath.
His dad looked over the side of the truck. “Derrick. You have a cat?”
Fifteen minutes later, MW, Derrick and his father were all on the porch, an amazed Tessa walking on eggshells, bringing them coffee and disappearing as if she didn’t want to break the truce. Derrick knew how she felt. He realized that he’d lost his imaginary shame blanket somewhere in the garage. Good riddance.
“Dad.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not stupid.”
Spencer Moss sat back in his chair slowly, brow furrowed, puzzled. “And?”
“Just that.”
“Who said you were?”
“Isn’t that what you think?” Derrick couldn’t believe he was asking this, but
he couldn’t seem to stop himself. You were always worth bowing before. Allison beneath him, sunk into her blinding white bed, abdominals clenched, biceps round as she curled up to kiss him, expression fierce as she clenched around him.
“Do you care what I think?” His father was looking at him curiously. Not so changed after all.
Derrick took a swallow of coffee. Allison set her cup on her kitchen table and came to him. I’m always all in. He’d tossed her over his shoulder, and she’d twisted like a cat, biting him. A love bite. Love. Everyone loved differently.
He was pretty sure his father wouldn’t appreciate Allison’s brand of affection.
The question was, could Derrick appreciate his father’s brand? Did his father even have a brand? Did it matter?
“I used to,” Derrick answered.
“I don’t understand you, Derrick,” his father said. “That doesn’t have anything to do with your intelligence.”
“What do you mean?” Derrick kept his eyes on the green backyard. Not you Allison. Anyone but you. Derrick sat up straight. He’d been thinking about his father when he’d said that to her. He’d meant it at the time. He could take the dismissal from anyone but her. Derrick smiled. It wasn’t good enough anymore. Now, he’d tell her Not you, Allison and not me. Anyone but either of us.
“I mean, that because I don’t understand you, that doesn’t mean you’re not smart. It doesn’t mean I’m not smart. It means only one thing. I don’t understand,” Spencer said. “Yet.”
The word hung there on the porch. Yet.
Derrick looked at his father. When had his hair become so gray? When would his fingers start to tremble? When would he no longer be the great Dr. Spencer Moss and just become Spencer Moss? He couldn’t imagine his father going gracefully.
“For instance, why do you and your robotics friends want to replace people with machines?”
The question struck him like a physical blow.
