Still Air

by Freya Barker

  Jonas slowly turns to face her, one eye still squinted shut, but the other is open a crack.

  “Do you talk this much every morning?” he asks with an edge, making me laugh out loud. That earns me a dirty, one-eyed glare.

  “Nah, don’t worry” Pam responds, not showing any emotion on her face. “Only on Sundays and holidays.”

  “Wonderful,” Jonas mumbles, as he lumbers to the couch, where he sits down heavily.

  I throw Pam a wink just as kid number two comes walking in. Gina used to be the same happy kid, regardless of what time she went to bed or got up. Not so much these days. Her face rivals that of her brother: squinty eyes, slack mouth, completely oblivious to her surroundings or those in it. Instead of heading for the coffee pot, my girl walks straight to the couch without any stops. With dramatic flair, she throws herself in the corner opposite from Jonas, tucking a pillow against her stomach and laying her head against the backrest.

  “What’s for breakfast?” she mumbles, to no one in particular.

  Pam answers before I can. “I can use the rest of the Pain for French toast, if you like?”

  At the sound of Pam’s voice, Gina’s head shoots up.

  “Oh—Okay.” It takes her a minute to place Pam before she responds.

  “Jonas?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Pam’s asking if you want French toast, Bud,” I jump in, wanting my kids to make a good impression.

  “Sure,” is the lackluster response.

  Pam is up and rounding the counter, but she’s wearing an indulgent smile. By the time she’s got the first batch sizzling in butter, both kids have regained sufficient consciousness for their mouths to start working properly.

  “So, Pam,” Jonas pipes up. “Can we expect you moving in any time soon?” He’s teasing, but I see the spatula hovering suspended over the pan. Gina’s reaction is even more interesting, her intake of breath sharp, but then her eyes flit back and forth between me and the woman on the spot in the kitchen, keen curiosity in her eyes. Pam slowly lowers the spatula to the counter and wipes her hands on the towel before she carefully turns around to face us.

  “That depends,” she says, after slightly squinting her eyes at me when she catches me grinning. “Are you gonna be this much of a pain in the ass to get out of bed every morning?”

  “Touché,” he answers, a little smirk on his face.

  I stay quiet throughout breakfast, just observing the play-by-play, mainly between Jonas and Pam. Of course they know each other a bit better, and I already knew he likes her, but this time I’m keeping an eye on Gina as well. She’s harder to gauge. There are times I think she resents Pam being here, but then I catch her looking with something close to admiration on her face. She doesn’t say much and as soon as her plate is empty, she scoots upstairs, followed shortly by Jonas.

  “We’re heading over to Gunnar and Syd’s at three thirty. Be ready!” I call after them. It’s not uncommon for Jonas particularly, to dive back into bed for a nap right after breakfast.

  Pam leaves shortly after. The sun is out today and the plows just came by, making the streets passable. I clear the driveway and watch as she takes off down the street. The plan is for her to head home, get changed, and then check in at the shelter. We’ve agreed I’ll pick her up from there between three thirty and four o’clock.

  When I pull the door shut, I find Gina at the bottom of the stairs.

  “What’s up, Princess?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything. I walk up, put my arm around her shoulders, and lead her to the couch where we sit down.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.” She barely gets the words out before she bursts into tears and buries her face in my chest. “I know I shouldn’t have taken off, but he was in trouble,” she sobs. She’s obviously talking about Ben, or Benji—whatever the hell the kid’s name is. Regardless, I don’t want my daughter around a kid who, at only fourteen, gets so drunk he gets himself into trouble, and then contacts my baby to come rescue him. That’s not what I want for my girl. Besides, she’s too young for boys.

  All of those thoughts rush through my head but I can’t voice any of them. Gina is talking to me now, but she won’t be talking for long if I throw all that at her feet. Jesus. I wish Pam was here to help me navigate this minefield.

  “Listen to me, girl. Your friend didn’t only make a bad choice when he decided to drink himself in a stupor in the town cemetery, he made a worse decision not calling the cops when those guys approached him. Sure, he would’ve gotten in trouble, but he had that coming.” I take in a deep breath before the resurfaced anger takes over. “But the worst one of all was when he decided to call you, when he knew damn well that could put you in danger as well. That’s the part I really have trouble with, honey.”

  “I know, Daddy, but he’s not exactly had the best examples. He really regrets it, Dad.” My body reacts when I hear those words. I shift in my seat, take her by the shoulders, and move her back a little so I can look in her eyes. She seems to recognize the mistake when she sees my face.

  “How do you know that, Gina?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Pam

  “Give me that bébé.”

  I need some loving. Even if it’s in the form of little Francessca’s happy gurgles and slaphappy hands.

  I noticed the change in atmosphere from this morning’s breakfast, the moment I get in the car. Dino’s jaw is clenched, and in the backseat, Gina’s eyes are throwing daggers at the back of his head. She barely says hello, apparently lumping me in on the side of the adults in whatever is brewing between her and her father.

  When I glance over my shoulder, I see Jonas just shrugs his shoulders. He’s clearly in the dark on this conflict as well. A few times I try to engage Dino in conversation, but he seems limited to monosyllabic answers. I give up quickly.

  With Francessca happily bouncing on my arm, I make my way into the kitchen, where Syd is spreading out a disgusting amount of food that Gunnar and his son, Dex, are eagerly sampling to Syd’s obvious distress. She’s slapping hands left, right, and center to everyone’s hilarity. When Dex spots Gina and Jonas, he immediately leads them down to the basement where Emmy is apparently already watching a movie.

  I’m glad. Perhaps with the kids out of sight, Dino will relax a little and take an opportunity to explain what the heck is going on. I’m a little frustrated when I see him disappear into the den with Gunnar, where apparently Ike is already watching the college football bowl games. That leaves Viv, Syd, little Francessca, and myself in the kitchen.

  “So,” Viv starts, and I already know what’s coming my way. “What happened last night?” I’m a little hesitant sharing information about what I consider to be Dino’s business, but I’m also well aware that Gunnar was there for part of it. He would almost certainly have shared with Syd. Since Viv was a close friend to both of us, I quickly make up my mind.

  “Do you remember Sarah?” I ask the girls. Since both of them will occasionally sit in or help out with the groups, they’ve met her before.

  “Single mom, two boys, and an asswipe of a boyfriend?” Viv says.

  “That’s the one,” I confirm. “Gina struck up a friendship with the oldest boy and snuck out last night when he got himself into some trouble and called her.” I sneak a peek down the hall to the den, to make sure no one was listening, before turning back to the girls. “It wasn’t the first time she’d snuck out. I know Dino is worried about her, especially after he almost had Jonas slip off the rails.”

  “I know,” Viv adds. “He mentioned the other day he was concerned. Personally, I think that woman did a lot more damage than what shows on the surface. Those kids were up close and personal for the train wreck that was Jeannie. I know, even before she left, she would use them as a shield between her and Dino. She knew he’d never do anything to harm those kids, which is exactly why she used them. I wonder if she’s not still in the background somewhere, pulling on those strings she had everyone on.”

 
“I only met her a few times,” Syd offers, pulling down a few wineglasses and pouring us all a hefty serving. “The woman was very difficult to talk to. Somehow, she’d always manage to turn the conversation on herself. Usually some pity party about how hard it was raising those two kids, and how difficult Dino was to live with. I’ll tell you, it took everything out of me not to slap her a few times.” Apparently, it can still get her riled up, her face is flushed and her eyes spark fire. I can’t blame her, Syd would not take kindly to anyone complaining about having kids to raise since she lost her own. It also goes to show how callous and self-involved the woman must have been to be complaining about her kids, when it was well-known by then how tragically Syd had lost her own. And of course, badmouthing Dino would not put her in a sympathetic light at all. Even if I tried hard not to like him at the time, even I couldn’t help but see what an extraordinarily kind and gentle father and friend he was—is.

  “Does she talk to you?” Viv asks, and it takes me a minute to realize she means Gina.

  “As little as possible,” I confess. I try not to take it personally, but it sometimes still stings. “You know? I know it’s difficult on the kids to get introduced to another woman, let alone one who has been on the fringes of their lives for years. I may never have socialized with them directly, but there have been times we’ve been at the same events. They knew who I was. I’m guessing it may have been a shock to see their father with a black woman at that—at least at first—but I don’t think that matters much to them.”

  “Pfft,” Viv scoffs. “Those kids don’t see color.”

  “I don’t think so either. In any event, it’s really not surprising that especially Gina, the apple of her daddy’s eye, would take some time warming up to me. After all, it’s been such a short time.” Part of me wonders, though.

  “Yeah, but you’ve known each other a long time,” Syd points out, offering up the wine bottle. Somehow I’d managed to down most of my drink.

  I’m not a stranger to girl-chats, but mostly those were with the focus on someone else, and I could easily slip into my role as therapist. It’s a little different when it’s you as topic of conversation. Odd, a little invasive, but also kind of nice. I think this may be the first time I actually feel a part of it, instead of looking in from the outside. That has nothing to do with them, but everything with me.

  I’ve let down my guard and am finding that life is bumpy, it’s confusing, and at times painful, but fuck if it’s not also passionate, rewarding, and often incredibly beautiful.

  -

  I don’t see Dino again until Ruby and Tim show up, just as Syd’s getting ready to call everyone out for dinner. Nina, Tim and Ruby’s adopted daughter, had been home for Christmas break but left this afternoon to go on a ski trip in Vermont for a few days, before heading back to university. Ruby’s face is a little puffy from crying and Tim keeps his arm protectively around her.

  Dino comes in from the hallway, right behind Ike, who comes straight for me and snatches Francessca from my shoulder. The poor thing got bored while us girls chatted, and fell asleep with her little face pressed to my neck. It felt good, every little puff of breath brushing against my skin. Bittersweet—the memories of long ago days when I would lie on my thrift store couch, with Derrick curled up on my chest. He’d been such a good baby. Never gave me any grief, and I remember silently promising him I’d make sure he’d have the best life possible. A promise I didn’t manage to keep.

  I’m so lost in memories, I don’t notice Dino moving until his arms slip around me from behind. Instinctively my hands come up to hold them in place as I lean my body back against his chest.

  “You okay, Biscuit?” His warm voice instantly soothes me.

  “I am now,” I answer quietly.

  It’s true. I’m not great—I can’t say my heart doesn’t still hurt, or that guilt doesn’t still burn bitter on my tongue—but with this man at my back, I can honestly say I’m okay.

  Dino

  I feel bad for being short.

  I’d still been raging inside when we picked Pam up. It was clear she knew something was up, but I didn’t want to blow off steam in the car. The inside of my lips are already bitten raw with the effort not to explode all over Gina when I discovered she’d somehow managed to talk to the boy, sometime this morning.

  When I see Pam’s pained look as Ike pries his baby daughter from her arms, I know instinctively where her thoughts are taking her. She doesn’t see me coming, but clearly knows its me when she immediately seeks the comfort of my body. That feels fucking great. That kind of connection, that level of trust, is something I’ve never felt. Getting on fifty and still discovering new and amazing things every day.

  While Syd instructs Gunnar to round up the kids, and she and Ruby carry platters and pots to the massive dining table, I grab Pam’s hand and lead her down the hall to the den. The game is still playing on the big screen TV, but the sound is muted.

  First thing I do is kiss her—hard. She blinks when I release her mouth, licking her lips appreciatively.

  “Mmmm,” she purrs. “What was that for?”

  “I never gave you a proper hello when I picked you up.” Keen understanding lights her eyes as she realizes where I’m going with this. “I had a hard time keeping my cool—I’m sorry.” I seem to be using those words a lot these days.

  “What happened?” Pam wants to know.

  “Gina snuck in my room before breakfast this morning and called that kid. She let it slip when she was trying to apologize to me and tell me I shouldn’t be angry at Ben, or Benji....whatever the fuck his name is.” I watch as Pam subtly raises an eyebrow, the expression more effective than any words would be. “Well, who the hell names their kid after a damn dog?” I sputter, quite fruitlessly, judging from her second eyebrow shooting up. “Anyway, I told her, in no uncertain terms, I don’t want her associating with that kid anymore. She didn’t take that well.” Looking at Pam, she’s not taking it too well either; her beautiful full lips are pressed tight in a harsh line. “I gather you don’t agree?”

  “With what exactly?” she asks, bouncing the question right back at me. Typical therapist.

  “Banning her from seeing him?”

  “Actually,” she says, as she slips from my arms and walks up to the window, her back toward me. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea in the short term. Both of them have a ton to deal with that doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the other. More than most kids their age do. I’m thinking that’s probably why they connected so quickly, in such a short time.” She doesn’t say it out loud, but I can hear the parallel she tries to draw with us, her and me, and I can’t let that stand.

  “Yes, things move fast in our lives, and yes, we’ve gone from one shitstorm into another, but I won’t have you make that out to be the reason we were drawn together. You know that’s not true. We’ve been connected for years, we just didn’t want to admit it or weren’t ready for it,” I argue, as she turns to face me.

  “Are we still talking about the kids?” she asks innocently, but with a cheeky smirk that says otherwise.

  “We are. I just felt that needed clarifying.”

  Her smile gets even bigger as she walks back toward me, grabs my shoulders, and stands up on tiptoes to kiss me sweetly.

  “So noted,” she smiles against my lips before retreating. “But my point stays the same; they’ve clearly found someone they can relate to while their respective lives are in turmoil. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

  “Okay, you’ve lost me,” I admit. “First you say you think it’s a good idea to keep them apart, and now you say the opposite.”

  “But it’s not the opposite. Hear me out,” she implores, her hand in the middle of my chest. “You grounded Gina, understandably so, but as a result she felt forced to do something she’d otherwise never have done; go behind your back. The reason for that was Benji.”

  “Damn right it was. If not for him, she...” I bluster, but
Pam cuts me off, shaking her head.

  “Honey, that’s not my point. What I’m trying to say is that at this age, the moment you forbid something, the more enticing it becomes. Perhaps, if you were to...allow them to talk on the phone once a day? She wouldn’t feel forced to go behind your back. Those kids could be good for each other.”

  “It feels like I’d be rewarding them for doing something wrong.” I can’t help but point out.

  “But it’s not really, when you think about it. It’s simply a broadening of perspective: you may be the one in the right, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make the punishment right for her.”

  “I guess,” I grudgingly agree. I still don’t like the idea of Gina with a kid, who obviously has little or no regard for her safety. “But in this case, the kid just seems like bad news all round.”

  I know I stepped over some invisible line into Pam’s ire, because her eyes shoot fire.

  “Okay, I wasn’t going to say this,” she starts, and I figure I’m about to hear what she wasn’t going to say. “But do I need to remind you that there are other kids, even older than Benji, who have made not such great decisions under pressure?”

  Ouch. She got me in just a single shot and she’s not even naming names. I’m starting to see her point, but she’s adamant to make me bleed a little.

  “Although some kids were lucky enough to have a community looking out for them, others have not been so lucky.” A muscle twitches in her jaw as she fights to keep her composure.

  Okay, now I feel like an absolute bastard. I open my mouth to tell her I get her, but she beats me to it.

  “No. I get to finish this,” she snaps, and I concede with a nod. “My boy didn’t have a support system, and the one parent he did have wasn’t paying attention. Benji is much like that, with only his mother looking out for him, and she can barely make appropriate decisions for herself. But it’s not too late for him. With some positive influences paying him attention, from us, from Gina, and maybe even from Jonas, the kid may have a fighting chance. I don’t want him to end up wasting away in jail, after doing something he can’t ever take back.”