Olivia, dripping cheesecake-flavored ice cream down her forearm, said she liked the movie better than other cartoons she’d seen but insisted she could have drawn the characters by hand with more detail than “some stupid computer.”
A conventional girl, Andy reflected. Much like her father, a man who he couldn’t help watching as he swirled his thick tongue around his ice cream cone with unbridled enthusiasm.
Chapter 17
TUESDAY after work, Harden returned home to a lifeless house. His anticipatory smile after a long day faded. Loosening his tie, he called for Andy, the kids, and finally Kamila. No response. He peered at the backyard’s swing set. Empty and still. Then he realized Andy’s black van was missing from the driveway. They must have gone out, extending their fun from Monday.
He smelled cleaning solvent. Kamila probably had taken advantage of the empty house and spent a good part of the day scrubbing with Pine-Sol. He called for her again, certain she would not have tagged along with the others. He glanced out the window and noticed her car, too, was gone. In the kitchen, he found a note left on the counter. “I told Kamila she could go home since the kids begged me to take them to McDonald’s for dinner. We’ll bring you back something. Andy.”
An old-fashioned, handwritten note. Text messages and voice mails took the spontaneity out of life for a crazy guy like Andrew, Harden supposed. Harden’s smile returned.
The storm door slammed shut. He looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Andy and the kids.
“Kamila?” He gaped at her. “Andy wrote that you’d gone home.”
“I run errands,” she said, setting down her purse and a bag of groceries. “I do not accept his telling me to go home when things need doing. How do I trust? He messes around with the kids too much.”
“What do you expect him to do while he’s here?”
Kamila said nothing, and she moved to put away the groceries.
“Daddy!” The storm door slammed again, and Olivia fell into Harden’s arms before he had a chance to counter Kamila’s hostile silence.
“How’s Daddy’s sweet little girl?” He twirled Olivia and kissed her sun-warmed cheek.
“We went to McDonald’s Playland.”
“I read your nice note. Did you have fun?”
Olivia nodded, her ponytails bobbing up and down. “We played in the ballroom and Mason got lost under the balls.”
“I hope you found him.”
“Don’t worry. He came back up.”
“That’s good.”
Andy and Mason trailed behind Olivia. Mason looked ready for more action, but Andy’s expression lacked the good nature of the kids. He set a greasy McDonald’s bag on the table and asked Olivia and Mason to run upstairs to “wash off those yucky germs.” Harden stood silent, questioning him with his eyes. Andy went straight to the counter where Kamila was putting away the groceries and intercepted her arm to prevent her from sliding a box of cereal into a cabinet. Rooted to the floor, Harden stared.
“Were you following me and the kids today?”
Kamila rotated her shoulder so that her arm freed itself from Andy’s grip. She did not appear angry or insulted by Andy’s inquisition. Her eyes drooped, and her mouth pulled into a subtle frown. She kept her back to him. Andy repeated himself and added, “You followed us to McDonald’s, didn’t you? And watched from your car through the window.”
Still no answer. Harden stepped in. “Andy, what’s going on?”
“I’m used to being trailed, Harden. But not by someone like her.” He faced Kamila’s back. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? It hasn’t been my imagination. You’ve been following me and the kids around in your Toyota since I got here.”
Kamila glanced at him, but her mouth remained closed, and she resumed putting away the groceries.
“Andy—”
“No, Harden. If I’m going to stay here longer, then we need to have this out.” He edged closer to Kamila, on the brink of pinning her to the cabinet. “Why have you been spying on me and the kids? I want to hear you speak the truth.”
Kamila snapped her head toward Andy. “I worry over them. We do not know you. Who are you? We still do not know. No one in town knows you.”
“And I don’t know who you are either,” Andy said. “What does that have to do with anything? I haven’t been following you around like an escaped mental patient.”
“I am here with them.” Kamila went back to the groceries but stopped before putting any more away. “You are stranger. What do you bring here?”
“I bring myself, which I think isn’t such a bad contribution.”
Kamila gazed out the window toward the driveway, her hand clutched on a can of peas. “I only worry for the children.”
“And I worry for them too.”
“Christ, Kamila, of course he does.” Harden stepped in closer behind Andy. The kids rambled upstairs, out of earshot. “Why do you think he stood up to Randy Lederman? His instincts are to protect the kids too, as much as mine or yours. I must insist you stop this unwarranted behavior of yours.”
Kamila remained quiet. Like a slow moving lazy Susan, she faced them. A semblance of a simper twitched her lips. “I am wrong. Forgive me. I go now.” She set down the can and made to leave.
Harden reached to her but could not will himself to move his feet. “You don’t have to leave, Kamila. I don’t mean to come across as bossy. It’s just that….”
“I go. Please, put groceries away.”
She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Protocol demanded Harden stop her, yet other emotions prevented him from calling or chasing after her. Kamila had worked like a loyal employee for him for almost a year, but Andy Wingal was family and had brought something special to their home.
Kamila’s sudden departure left behind a shadow of silence. Harden finally budged to put away the remaining groceries. No words came to mind. Even if they had, Andy had stomped downstairs before he might have had the nerve to speak them.
Harden finished storing the groceries and resisted going downstairs to Andy. He waited the fifteen minutes he knew it would take Kamila to arrive home before telephoning her. After speaking with her for a few minutes, he hung up and reluctantly warmed the Big Mac and fries Andy had brought him. Andy returned upstairs in the middle of his eating. A light chuckle fluttered from between his tight lips.
“Sorry about the dramatics,” he said.
Harden swallowed a bite. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already spoken with Kamila on the phone. She’s fine with everything and apologized again for following you like she did. She’s going to take tomorrow off but will be back on Thursday. She’s promised to stop following you.”
Fortunately, Mason and Olivia remained oblivious to the minor family fracture. They were watching television. Light canned laughter from a sitcom drifted in from the living room.
“Lately I’ve been testy about people judging me,” Andy said. “I had no right to yell at her.”
“She had no business doing what she did.”
Andy apologized again and went to see Mason and Olivia. Harden finished his meal and tossed the wrappers. Upstairs, he changed into a nice pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt and headed back down to watch television alongside Andy and the kids.
Once the sun settled beyond the cornfield and the blue glow from the television covered the living room, he ordered the kids to bed. He and Andy tucked them in, and afterward they sat on the porch swing, swaying so subtly that Harden hadn’t noticed they were moving until Andy stopped it with his foot. He stood with his hands thrust inside his shorts pockets and walked to the railing, where he gazed over the cornfield blanketed by a cobalt sky.
Harden studied him from behind. His glassy-smooth calves revealed the beginnings of a tan. He noted his plaid shorts draped his physique in a fashion he wished his own might. You’re a frumpy dad racing toward middle age, and that’s all, Harden Krane.
He hoped a sip of beer might cool his heating cheeks. He settled the
can between his legs and turned his gaze alongside Andy’s. Indeed, the cornfield resembled something magical during dusk. Often he would stand on the porch and watch the sky change from pink to purple and ultimately to black. Alone, with the children asleep, he’d admire the stars as they freckled the sky and stare at the moon, fascinated by the dancing shadows among the cornstalks. During those quiet moments, he’d dream of bygone days, when life harbored an innocent expectation that made day to day living more tolerable.
Andy turned to Harden with a toothy grin and leaned against the railing with his hands behind his back. “Have to admit,” he said, “it’s really amazing. Almost nicer with the evening sky. The corn looks lavender.”
“Not as exciting as a night in Chicago, huh?”
“Right at this moment, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d like to be, believe it or not.”
“Even with all that lost income?”
A blush darkened Andy’s already reddened cheeks. He gazed at his sneakers while bugs snapped against the porch lamps. “If I don’t think about that, I’m cool.”
Harden judged from the glint in Andy’s irises that he spoke the truth. He never knew Andy to bend to spurious words or deeds. One of his better traits. “And Kamila?” he dared to ask. “She hasn’t forced you to change your mind about staying longer, has she?”
Andy shook his head. “I just feel bad about confronting her like I did.”
“I told you not to worry. You had a right.” Harden shifted his gaze to the nighttime sky, where a black crow flew noiselessly against the purple spread above the pink corn. Crickets chirping fluctuated with the warm breeze and more lightning bugs dotted the night. “I can’t get over her following you around like she did. I guess I should be grateful for her dedication to the kids, but there’s really no excuse for that kind of behavior.”
“I was really steamed when I realized it was her,” Andy said, smiling again. “I probably should’ve counted to ten and taken a deep breath, same with before I mouthed off to that Randy what’s his name. I find more trouble that way.”
“It’s all good. Don’t worry. I sense a calm coming over the horizon.” And though his last words had flowed from his wetted lips barely audible, lighter than the breeze tickling the corn silk, Harden had uttered a truth.
Something of a truce had been reached between Andy Wingal and Kamila Becic. Earlier, when he’d spoken with Kamila, her voice had suggested a yielding to Andy’s presence. Perhaps she’d learned to realize that his standing up to her also meant he possessed the same fortitude to face others on behalf of the kids, the way he had proved with the bully, Randy Lederman.
Mild cohesion had somehow formed. The family ventured toward the realm of honesty and openness, what any social unit required for survival. Harden sighed with relief, picturing a more peaceful household. He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Andy said, gazing at Harden. His fresh haircut accentuated the strong shape to his oval face and his wild dimpled chin.
“You should’ve seen the kids Sunday when I told them you were prolonging your stay. They even hugged each other.”
Andy sat back next to Harden. Harden caught himself flinching but willed himself to relax. He sipped his beer, licked his lips.
“They’re the greatest kids in the world,” Andy said, his stare fixed over the top of the porch railing. “You should commend yourself for holding things together as well as you have.”
Uncomfortable with compliments, Harden gripped his beer tighter and nodded. “You wear them out for me. I’m used to them attacking me when I get home. It’s wonderful having you around.”
“I’m glad I can help. I should have contributed more a long time ago.”
“Stop apologizing, will you.”
Andy snickered. “Okay, I promise. No more regrets.”
Together they sat, staring at the indigo cornfield.
Gentler than the sweet breeze, the swing began to move back and forth again, keeping in rhythm with the bowing corn and Harden’s curiously whimsical thoughts.
Chapter 18
Uncle Andy: Hello. I am here.
Daddy: We are glad you are here.
Olivia: It is fun you are here.
Mason: It is good.
Uncle Andy: We go outside and play now.
Olivia: OK.
Daddy: OK.
Kamila: I will stay and cook in the kitchen.
Daddy: OK.
Uncle Andy: OK.
Olivia: OK.
Mason: OK. Let’s go now. I want to go outside and play with Uncle Andy.
Olivia: I want that too. We better go now.
Daddy: Come follow Uncle Andy and me outside so that we can play together.
Olivia: I like that.
Mason: I like that too.
Olivia: We are playing on the swings now.
Uncle Andy: It is fun.
Daddy: Be careful you do not swing too high, Daddy’s sweet little girl.
Olivia: I will be careful, Daddy.
Mason: I can swing higher.
Daddy: Uncle Andy and I will watch you together.
Uncle Andy: We are watching you together.
Olivia: Watch us!
Uncle Andy: You are swinging nicely.
Daddy: Yes, you are swinging better than anyone in the world.
Olivia: Thank you Daddy and Uncle Andy.
“She’s captured your personality to a tee,” Andy said with a sarcastic lilt, while he read over Harden’s shoulder. “I like the way she highlighted the dynamic of her and Mason’s relationship too. And her Kamila couldn’t have been more spot on.”
“It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever read,” Harden uttered.
Andy swallowed a chuckle. “She’s another Hellman in the making. I helped her with the grammar. She insisted on giving me a part.”
“You should be flattered.”
Andy allowed Harden to finish reading Olivia’s play. For another five pages, her characters bantered back and forth on the swing set, at the dinner table, during a game of Pictionary, and ending with:
Daddy: It is time for bed.
Mason: I hate to go to bed, but I will go.
Olivia: We are in bed now. Good night, Daddy. Good night, Uncle Andy. Sleep tight and don’t have any bad dreams.
Uncle Andy: Good night. We are going to bed now.
Daddy: We are in bed now.
Uncle Andy: Yes, we are in bed.
Olivia: That is good. Good night.
Harden laughed and laid the play on the computer console. “It’s funny the way she made us out at the end, like we’re sharing a bedroom. I think she forgot you sleep downstairs.”
Andy had failed to notice Olivia’s ambiguous ending until that moment. His face heating, he said, “Kids can be silly, I guess.”
“She certainly enjoys writing,” Harden said. “I like to encourage her.”
“Maybe, once she learns stage directions, she’ll grow up and become rich and famous.”
Harden made a strange grunt from deep inside his throat. “I can’t picture Olivia and Mason grown up.” His attention remained fixed on Olivia’s play, as if he’d entered his young daughter’s innocent, two-dimensional world and, like Andy trapped in the corn maze, found himself unable to escape. Or perhaps he didn’t wish to. “I suffer the guilt of wanting them to grow up and get out of the house so I no longer have to worry over them, and wanting to hold back time and keep them children forever. It’s so confusing.”
Andy failed to fully comprehend Harden’s angst, but he sensed Harden was seeking consolation. “I’m sure other parents feel the same,” he said.
“Moments like this I cherish, though.”
Andy felt a hand press on his shoulder. He looked into Harden’s blue irises and turned away before Harden might catch the flush that burned his neck and threatened to travel to his cheeks. “Why’s that?” he asked, stifling a shudder.
“It’s nice to have another adult to share sweet times,” Harden said mat
ter-of-factly. “So often, I just compliment the kids on something they’ve done and that’s that. I feel so empty afterward, like I’m some sort of horrible hypocrite.”
“You’re anything but that, Harden,” Andy said toward the desk, where his fingertips stroked Olivia’s play. He caught himself fidgeting and brought his hand to his side. “What about Kamila? Doesn’t she help out enough?”
“It’s different with her,” Harden replied. “We’re not quite… equals. We come from different worlds.”
“Don’t you and I? I’m from Chicago and you’re from Iowa farm country.”
Harden moved to the sofa. A cold, empty sensation remained where his hand had rested against Andy’s shoulder.
“I meant she and I don’t relate to each other,” Harden said, sitting and cupping his hands over his knees. “It’s hard to explain. Maybe it’s just her personality, or maybe it’s mine.”
Andy followed Harden to the sofa and mirrored his posture. They sat together like any couple might after a long day, discussing the children, the future. Knee to knee, knuckles mere inches from each other’s. But Andy realized that Kamila and he—childless, far from home, strangers in Iowa—shared more in common than he and Harden. The notion made him wish his life had fallen onto a different path.
Upstairs, Mason and Olivia trampled about, cleaning their rooms before dinner like Andy had asked. Harden sighed and said with a tremulous shake of his head, “I realize it’s tough for the kids to be out here, so far from their friends and relatives. But I just can’t bring myself to dump this place, not yet.”
Andy stepped up to the challenge. “It would be different if you had another person… someone in place of Lilly?”
“Of course.”
Olivia, dressed in her pajamas, ambled downstairs and fell onto the sofa on top of them. “I want to watch TV.”
Harden stroked her hair, long and flowing freely from the typical ponytails. “Did you clean your room like Uncle Andy asked?” She nodded, and Harden said, “Why don’t you watch Thumb and Thumbelina on your laptop and let me and your uncle have some quiet time before dinner?”
The South Side Tour Guide Page 13
