by Iris Parker
Dominick and I both blanched, making the same sort of awkward nothing-to-see-here cough as both of us tried to act innocent in the most guilty way imaginable. Thankfully Ali didn't seem to notice, and went on. "It's been hours!"
"Well, now I know you're just being silly," I said, checking my watch. "We only got here a few minutes ago, and—"
It was quarter to three, and we'd been here the better part of an hour.
That's impossible, I thought to myself, at a loss.
Thankfully Dominick knew exactly what to say. "So, what's this about?" he asked, grabbing a fresh flyer from the stand.
"They're showing a movie here tonight!" Ali said excitedly. "I ran into Sarah and Lenore, and they're going to be here for it. Can we watch too?"
Dominick tilted the paper towards me, allowing us both to read it at the same time.
Picnic Film Festival
Free Movies at Dusk, All Summer Long
This week:
Ferris Bueller's Day Off
You Bring the Blanket
We Bring the Popcorn
"Can we?" Ali asked, grinning from ear to ear.
"I'm not sure," I said. "Dusk isn't for a long time, and I'm sure Dominick has other things to do today. We can't take up all his time, you know."
"Actually I do," Dominick said, and my heart sank. Despite having just said that we couldn't take all of his time, part of me had been hoping to do exactly that.
Ali looked as disappointed as I felt.
"I need to buy a nice thick blanket, for example," Dominick said coyly. "And snacks. And a picnic basket. And—"
As soon as Dominick said picnic basket, Ali squealed. "You mean we can do it?" she interrupted.
Dominick nodded, and Ali burst into a flurry of hyper excitement that—for once—I completely approved of. I couldn't jump around like that without a lot of confused looks and raising a whole bunch of questions, but at least I could let my daughter celebrate for me.
"You don't need to buy all that stuff, you know," I said. "We can make do. You've already spent so much, it doesn't seem right at all."
Dominick laughed, shaking his head. "Don't worry about money," he said. "Professional athlete, remember? I make more than enough. Besides, you guys have been keeping me out of trouble lately. I'm actually spending less than I used to."
"Still," I argued. "The principle…."
"The principle," Dominick said in a low voice. "Is that you've been paying for everything since the start, and I'd like to help."
"We both signed a contract. You're under no obligation to pay," I whispered. "You don't have to do this."
"I don't have to help you, but I'd like to. Isn't this what guys do for their families?" Dominick asked, his eyes locking straight onto mine and making my already-racing heart beat even faster.
He'd said something like that before, but that was different. Then, he'd been talking about being a father to Ali. Now, he was talking about me. Ali was his daughter, but what was I? Where did I fit into this family he was picturing?
Dominick had said we were keeping him out of trouble, but I didn't know if the reverse was true. Standing there and looking into his hungry eyes, I wondered if he was about to drag me into a whole world of trouble.
Glorious, wonderful trouble.
The kind I'd spent my entire life carefully avoiding.
The kind I'd spent every night this week longing for.
Trouble.
With a capital T.
Helena
We spent the rest of the afternoon playing in the water, getting sprayed by the fountain as we splashed around in its shallow pool. The movie wasn't for several hours yet, and Dominick seemed no more eager to go on his shopping trip than I was for him to leave.
I would've suggested that all three of us do it together, but Ali was having too much fun. She was still bouncing around and giggling, even as Dom and I called it quits to catch our breath on a nearby bench. We sat together in a comfortable silence, relaxing after an exhausting day of play. Part of me wanted to address the obvious issue between us, but every time I thought about it the comfortable silence suddenly felt like an awkward one.
I wondered if Dominick felt the same way.
Not just about the silence, but everything. Did he have the same questions in his head, or did he not care? Was he flirting with me out of a sincere interest, or did he simply flirt with everyone? I didn't know, and as much as I longed to find out, part of me was afraid I wouldn't like the answers I got.
Not to mention the other issue between us, the one making my stomach grow a little larger every day. I felt terrible that I still hadn't told him, but the timing never seemed right. I knew that the longer I waited the more damaging it would be, but yet it felt like it had surely been too long already. I should've been up-front about it and told him on the very first day; the only reason I hadn't was because I'd been so suspicious of him. How could I explain that? Sorry I was so dishonest with you. It's just that I was worried you were an irresponsible, childish asshole who'd destroy my family?
Except he wasn't, and now he thought of it as our family, and there was another member that he knew nothing about.
I needed to do this.
"Dominick," I said after a deep breath, trying to find courage. "There's something I—uh…."
Dominick turned to look at me, his mismatched eyes shining. As he smiled, I knew I couldn't go through with it. Things would irrevocably change between us once he found out, and not for the better. Maybe if he had more time to get to know me, he'd understand why I had been so cautious. Maybe, if I waited just a little bit longer, he might actually be able to forgive me.
Or maybe that was a load of shit I was telling myself to justify being a coward. Either way, I couldn't deal with the truth right now.
"What is it?" Dominick asked.
"I was wondering, have you ever seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off?" I finished lamely, hating myself for it.
"Er," he said in quickly-hidden surprise. "No. I haven't."
"Neither have I. But it's supposed to be a classic."
"That's not what you really wanted to say, is it?" Dominick asked.
"No, it's not," I agreed, my throat now dry and scratchy.
"What's on your mind?"
"Is—is this a date?" I asked. It wasn't entirely a lie; I had been wondering that obsessively since yesterday. "Going out and seeing a movie together. That sounds like a date."
"Do you want it to be?"
Hell yes, I thought, but my lips surprised me. "I don't know."
"Oh," he said, frowning.
"It's just—" I began, courage again failing me as I spoke. "Things are very complicated."
"They are," Dominick agreed. "Do you think that's a problem?"
"I don't know. Maybe," I said, silently screaming at myself for leading the conversation down this path. Part of me felt so guilty about misleading Dominick that I wanted to punish myself for it, and another part of me was so afraid of the truth that I was willing to agree with anything he said.
Dominick nodded slowly, the disappointment on his face plain to see. I felt the same way, but had no idea how to tell him that without ruining everything. It seemed that with each passing moment, my stupid decision was pushing us further apart.
"It's getting late," he said after a moment. "And I have a lot of errands to run to get ready for tonight. I should probably go soon."
"I'm sorry," I said, shuddering as the regret continued to build. "It's not that I don't like you. It's just…," I began, and again had no idea how to finish the thought without causing even more damage.
"It's okay, Helena," Dominick said, putting his palm on my knee. His warmth made tingles shoot across my skin, radiating out from where he'd touched. As much as I wished he could leave his hand there forever, that I could feel him against me any time I wanted, it didn't last. "I understand," he said before standing up and quickly walking away.
"No," I whispered, too quiet for him to hear. "No, you don't."
July passed in a blur, flying faster than I could keep track of.
July also passed by with an agonizing, glacial slowness that made each second feel like an hour, and made hours feel like forever.
Time, it seemed, simply couldn't make up its mind.
My routine hadn't changed very much, at least not on weekdays. I still spent all my morning and afternoon in either the gym or the rink, either working out or just practicing. I worked on muscles and speed, pumped iron and built endurance. It was the same stuff I'd been doing for years.
It used to feel important; now it felt like a tedious formality that I needed to suffer through before my days—or at least my evenings—could really begin.
Those had changed, quite a bit. My usual carousing with Alton had taken a back seat to holing myself up at Helena's place, eating her cooking and playing board games with Ali. Or working more on the back yard, landscaping and restoring the old iron furniture to its former glory one piece at a time.
It was a culture shock, but I loved almost every second of it.
Almost.
There were those moments when my eyes met Helena's, and I remembered what I had lost. Or more accurately, what I'd never had and never would have. Those times were even slower, even more brutal than the worst early-morning gym session. At least when I was working out, I knew what was going on and why and when I could leave.
With Helena, it was still a mystery. Something had gone terribly wrong, but I didn't know what. I wanted to ask, but she clearly didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to push, but I couldn't risk making a bad situation into an impossible one. As hard as it was to be around her sometimes, the only thing worse would've been to not be around her.
Ordinarily I would've taken the hint, backed off, and let go. Except that, too, was impossible. How could I try to move on if I still saw her every day, still spent much of my time in her home? Even if I'd wanted to forget all about Helena, there was no way to do it without abandoning Ali, and that was too high of a price.
Besides, I still enjoyed being with Helena. She made me happy for the most part; it was only whenever I felt another spark between us that things felt wrong. It was so easy to convince myself she felt the same thing, but I was obviously just deluding myself.
Revving up my bike, I passed another row of cars on my way down the Massachusetts Turnpike. At long last, it was finally the weekend and I could visit earlier—and none too soon, either. Last night had been unusually challenging; I'd been forced to attend a high-class soirée by one of the team's sponsors, and hadn't been able to see either Helena or my daughter at all. It had taken all of my professionalism and willpower to not walk out in the middle of the event, and even then I'd only barely managed.
If only Alton knew…I thought with a smirk. No doubt, my best friend would've been incredibly amused if he'd known just how difficult the party had been for me.
Or the reason why.
I really needed to tell him something soon. We'd been practically inseparable in our youth, and even now we both played on the Bruins and saw each other almost daily. Despite being so close, I could barely remember the last time we'd hit up a bar together, or even seen each other outside of the gym. At this point, he probably was assuming I had cancer or had become a Mormon or something. It was only his strict adherence to the Man-Code of Silence that kept him from asking what was happening.
Of course, knowing Alton, cancer might very well have worried him less than the truth. Sure, he'd probably be amused by how domesticated I'd become and crack a few jokes. After that, though, he'd probably try to convince me to walk away. As unpleasant as his own family life had been, I couldn't blame him for being cynical. I'd skipped over the beginning and middle stages of love and sex, jumping right to the messy obligations and pushy demands.
Or at least, that's how he would see it.
He was wrong, of course.
How to break the news to Alton was a puzzle for another day, however, and all thought of him slipped my mind as I pulled into Helena's driveway. I dismounted the bike and checked my side bag, finding the carefully-wrapped bouquet of pink, white, and orange roses still intact.
Buying them had seemed like a great idea when I got up this morning, and the florist had assured me that the colors were all more-or-less platonic. Staring down at them now however, it felt pushy and presumptuous to surprise Helena with a bunch of flowers. Worried she would get the wrong idea, I shook my head and closed the bag.
I got about halfway to the house before changing my mind again, running back to the bike and retrieving the bouquet.
This time I made it all the way past the driveway before overthinking it. Before I could put them away, however, the front door swung open and Ali waved me in enthusiastically. Her already-huge smile got even brighter when she saw the flowers, and I knew it was too late to hide them.
"For me?" she asked, bouncing on her heels as she spoke.
"No, they're…well, kind of. Actually. Yes. For both of you," I mumbled.
"Thanks! I'll take one now," she said, snatching a pink rose from the bouquet at random. She took a big sniff, then stared at me expectantly. It wasn't until she cleared her throat and pointed to her own mouth with the flower that I noticed something was different.
She was wearing shiny lip gloss, a shade of pink that matched the rose almost perfectly.
"You like it?" she asked, her voice full of hope.
"It looks great," I said. "And the sparkles, too," I said, now noticing that her face was adorned with tiny flecks of glitter.
"Mom did it! For my date!" she said, and my heart somersaulted.
"Your date?" I asked, acting as nonchalant as possible.
It was either that or grab at my chest and inadvertently burst into a Redd Foxx impersonation.
This is the big one! You hear that?
"Well, not a date-date," Ali explained. "But Jason's parents are taking him and his sister, my friend Laurie, out to a restaurant to celebrate their 20th anniversary. They invited me yesterday, and Mom said I should dress up smartly for it. So we spent the whole morning putting this together."
I leave for one day and Ali's going on a date? I asked myself. Ali cleared her throat expectantly, drawing my attention back to her as she showcased a white blouse with red dots, complimented by an aqua blue skirt.
"How old is Jason again?"
Ali's hands switched from gesturing at her clothing and straight to her hips. "Don't you be one of those obnoxious dads who complains about boys!" she warned, grabbing her handbag and retreating into the kitchen. Helena said something to her, and Ali re-emerged in a flurry before stepping up on tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. Before I could process anything else, she'd flounced out the door and was heading over to Jason's house.
"Very few teenage boys will appreciate being given a pink rose, you know," I said weakly, but Ali was long gone. It was just as well; I was still reeling from everything that had happened.
Ali was dating! Or at least, she was not-really-dating, which somehow felt even worse. If eleven was too young to be dating, it certainly seemed too young to be in anything that needed the phrase it's complicated.
What she'd said at the very end, though, had surprised me more than all the rest combined.
Dad.
She'd never called me that before.
Ali had always used more formal words when addressing me, father or sometimes even sir. As much as I still felt like an impostor, and wholly unworthy of the title, I had to admit that some part of me still loved the sound of it.
Dad.
It just seemed so…causal. Like it was something to take for granted, like I was stable and successful and satisfying enough to be taken for granted.
Or maybe she'd just been buttering me up so I wouldn't complain about Jason.
Who knew?
"Helena?" I called uncertainly from the foyer. There was no answer, leading to an awkward pause just long enough for me to re-re-reconsider the
flowers. I took off my jacket and carefully covered the bouquet in its old leather before finally heading into the kitchen. Helena was there, her face downcast and scrunched up.
She didn't look at me when I came in, focused on peeling the mountain of potatoes on the table in front of her. Between the stiff way she was sitting and the intense focus on her task, her body language seemed tense and closed-off.
"They're usually better with the skin on, you know," I teased, trying to ease the apparent tension.
Of course, that was playing with fire. Aside from the question of which way to hang the toilet paper, few domestic topics were as incendiary as the Great Potato Skin Debate.
"If you're a hedonist, maybe," Helena muttered angrily.
Definitely playing with fire.
"I…don't see the connection," I said, still hoping to cheer her up. Whatever had put her in a bad mood, it seemed like laughing could only help. "Did you join the army without telling me or something? Or are you just trying to feed the whole city?"
"Better-than-fucking-the-whole-city," she mumbled under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear. She finally lifted her eyes long enough to pin me with a hostile glare, suddenly removing all doubt as to what—or rather who—was bothering her.
"Oh," I said, at a loss for other words.
This was turning out to be a very strange day.
"And uh—who would be doing that, exactly?" I asked, knowing fully well what the answer was. As much as it felt like sticking my head into a lion's open mouth, I couldn't think of a better way to continue.
"I caught your latest fashion show," she said, the non sequitur catching me off guard.
A very strange day.
"Fashion show?" I asked.
"Well, what else would you call it? With that endless parade of models all over your arm," she snarled, peeling the potatoes with more and more agitation.
"Maybe you should put the peeler down," I said carefully. "Before you hurt yourself."
With another glare, Helena slammed her hand—and the peeler—on the table.
