A River of Silence

by Susan Clayton-Goldner

  Dana and the boys had moved in the following weekend.

  Now, Bear brought him a Diet Coke and startled him out of the memory and into the present. “Dana will be back soon,” he said, placing one big hand on Bryce’s shoulder. “I know Reggie can be a jerk, but he’s not all bad. He’s taken an interest in Henry and been really good to him.” He nodded towards his son who wiped down a table across the aisle from the bar. “Reggie got Henry a part-time job washing cars on his father’s lot. It’s hard to let him go, but I won’t always be around to protect him. Henry needs to grow more independent.”

  Bryce didn’t trust anything Reggie Sterling did. His motives were always self-serving. But why burst Bear’s bubble?

  “Dana’s still young and wild. But she knows you’re the best thing that ever happened to her and those boys.” He squeezed Bryce’s shoulder, then hurried over to another customer.

  Fifteen minutes later, Dana appeared in the doorway. She was barefoot and wearing her waitress uniform—a denim skirt, red vest, and a white blouse with pearl buttons. A tooled red cowboy boot dangled from each hand. In the soft and subtle glow inside the Lasso, her tangled hair mirrored the golden light from the wall lanterns. When she spotted Bryce, she waved. Her slow, self-conscious gait told him she was drunk, even before he smelled the beer on her breath.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “I was worried.”

  She nodded.

  “Was that Reggie’s car I saw outside?”

  She slid onto the red vinyl bench across from him.

  “You should have called,” he said. “I was here at 11 p.m., just like you said. But when you weren’t, I had to phone Tilly to watch the kids. You know I’m not comfortable leaving them alone for more than a few minutes, even if they are asleep. I woke Tilly up. She’s an old lady and needs her sleep.”

  Dana sighed—a bottomless, heartbreaking sigh, then turned her face to the window.

  He reached across the narrow table and placed his hand on top of hers. “You can talk to me, sweetheart. What’s the real problem here?”

  When she looked at him, her eyes filled. “I wish I knew. Sometimes I hate my life and I’m only twenty years old. Stupid me getting knocked up at fifteen. I used to blame Reggie because he’s older. But it’s my own fault. I feel guilty all the time because of the kids.” She stopped and looked at him for a moment. “And you. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want time to be young before I turn into a wrinkled old prune.”

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or hug her. She had no idea how lucky she was to have those two healthy little boys. For as long as Bryce could remember, he’d yearned for a family. He had one and lost it. But he’d found another with Dana, Scott and Skyler. They brought something recklessly alive back into his life. The last thing he wanted was to lose them. “I know fifteen years is a big age difference, but I do remember what being young felt like.” He smiled, caressed her hand.

  Dana slipped her hand from beneath his and knitted her fingers together. She met Bryce’s gaze. Dark semi-circles stained the skin under her eyes.

  “Let’s go home,” he said. “You’re tired and a little bit drunk. You’ll feel better after you get some sleep.”

  “Sleep isn’t going to fix me,” she snapped. “It’s too late. You don’t get it, do you?” She ripped open her purse, then groped around in the bottom until she found a wadded-up tissue. “We’re not working. And it’s not like I haven’t tried.” She stopped and blew her nose, then tore at a loose cuticle beneath her bright red nail polish.

  A ripple of panic washed over Bryce. “I have two more classes before I get my degree. I won’t be stacking vegetables at Gilbert’s Grocery forever.” Bryce worked as the produce manager. It was a good job, with health insurance and paid medical leave, but he didn’t plan to retire from Gilbert’s. He harbored another, more altruistic dream. “I’ll teach at the deaf school. We’ll have a future. Maybe you can stay home with the kids. We could have a baby together. Round the family out with a little girl.”

  She shook her head, a look of sadness in her eyes. “Even if I could, I don’t want to stay home or have another baby.”

  “What do you mean even if you could?” Again, he took her hand.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I like working at the Lasso. I have a life here.”

  “Waiting on tables of drunks who like to flirt and gawk at your boobs isn’t much of a life. You’re smart. And you’re better than that.”

  She jerked her hand from his grasp. “I’m tired of your wisdom, all your philosophy of life shit. I want my own place. The tarot has been telling me this for weeks.”

  “Listen,” he said, trying not to raise his voice. “Those cards are just pieces of cardboard. What about the kids? Skyler is only nineteen months old. He needs his mother. But he needs a man around too.”

  She looked at him hard, a flash of anger in her dark eyes. “Well, maybe I’ll find a man. A real man, not a…”

  The words she failed to say echoed in his head. Not a deaf cripple like you. His face flushed and his hands grew clammy. Those unsaid words both shrunk and pierced him. “A man like Reggie,” he snarled. “A man who once stabbed you with an ice pick. A man who can’t stand the sight of your toddler. Those boys are happy with me and you know it.”

  Her face was bright red and contorted. “As much as you like to pretend they’re yours, those kids belong to me.” She landed a shot where Bryce was most vulnerable.

  “I know whose kids they are.” He shifted his gaze to the window and looked out at the night sky with its scattering of indifferent stars, then returned it to Dana.

  She lifted one hand to wipe her hair away from her forehead. “Good. Because I’m going to find someone else to take care of them at night. And it won’t be Tilly, your fabulous black wonder, either.”

  Bryce stood. “Go ahead. See if you can find someone to love those kids the way I do.” He slapped a five-dollar bill on the table to cover the cost of his Diet Coke and limped out of the restaurant.

  Dana followed.

  When they were both in the car, she flipped on the overhead light and turned to face him. They stared at each other like two prize fighters after a round of punches, trying to decide whether to return to the ring.

  She must have realized she knocked the wind out of him with her threat to take the kids away and softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be cruel. You’ve been a great friend. Really generous and wonderful to me and the boys.” Her face brightened, then went dark again. “But when you offered your house to us, you said no strings attached.”

  The silence between them buzzed in Bryce’s ears, louder than any speech.

  “Well,” she demanded. “Isn’t that what you said to me?” Her eyes flashed. The line between them sunk into a deep groove.

  “Yes, that’s what I said, and I meant it.” She was so young and he should have known better. “But I didn’t force you to move into my bedroom. You did that of your own accord.” About a month after she and the boys moved in, Dana crawled into his bed and snuggled up to his back. He thought she was falling in love with him. Nothing could have made him happier.

  He reached across the seat to touch her arm. “I care about your happiness. I just hoped you’d find it with me.”

  For a few seconds, she remained quiet and still. “It’s not your fault,” she finally said. “I made a mistake.”

  “Call it whatever you want. But it worked well for over a year. Those boys are thriving.”

  Her eyes widened as if the truth found them. “I know. But I’m not.” She swallowed hard and looked away from him.

  A cloud moved across the moon and the sky was suddenly bereft of light. Bryce gripped the steering wheel with both hands and stared straight ahead into the empty parking lot. A muscle along the side of his jaw throbbed like a heartbeat.

  Bryce rarely lost his temper and didn’t want to do so now. He turned back to Dana and touched her shoulder. “Look. I’m not trying to run your life. But yo
u know you can’t afford a decent place to live and babysitting, too. I can help with…” Bryce stopped himself short of finishing. He didn’t want her to know the sad truth—that he’d do just about anything to keep those kids in his world.

  Chapter Three

  The following morning, Bryce stood in front of the small window over the kitchen sink. It opened onto a warm autumn day. Sunlight filtered through the trees in broad and glimmering bands. The oaks and maples erupted in color and the earth smelled like garden soil recently turned. Dana was tired and drunk last night. She hadn’t meant half of what she said. With a good night’s sleep, she was sure to see things differently. The sky was already brilliant with two ivory clouds pinned high in the glossy blue. Perfect for a new start.

  Pickles, the orange-striped alley cat he adopted more than a decade ago, circled his ankles, nudging his nose against Bryce’s legs. A morning ritual. “You hungry, boy?” He poured dry cat food in Pickles’ dish and replaced his water.

  Dana got up early, showered and dressed before either of the boys finished the blueberry pancakes, in the shape of Mickey Mouse, Bryce prepared for them. He heard her in the living room, laying out her daily tarot cards on the glass top coffee table. After a few moments, she joined them in the kitchen.

  He turned away from the window to face her.

  She was wearing a pair of hot pink capris, sandals, and a white, lacy tank top, tucked in at the waist. A matching white sweater was tossed over her shoulders. Her hair was still damp from the shower and several dark tendrils curled around her face.

  “You look great,” he said. “Just right for a picnic in Lithia Park. We can walk down to the Plaza, pick up some chicken and potato salad at Greenleaf. Maybe some French bread and a bottle of that red wine you like.”

  Dana shook her head. Her gaze fixed on him. “Angela is picking me up in a few minutes.” Angela was Dana’s best friend and worked as the hostess at the Lazy Lasso.

  “We plan to get Reggie and the two of them will help me find an apartment.” She looked at him, as if checking for a reaction.

  Silence hung between them, still and fragile as glass.

  The beginnings of a headache, hopefully not a migraine, pressed into the back of his left eye like a thumbtack. “When you got up so early I thought maybe we could do something together, be a family. Besides, I promised the boys.”

  Four-year-old Scott scurried, barefoot and still in his pajamas, across the tile floor and wrapped his arms around Dana’s thighs. “Please...please...please. Come on, Mom. Skyler and me can fish for minnows in Ashland Creek. Bryce has two nets and a big bucket. He said we could go.”

  “Your dad is coming over later, after I go to work. Maybe he’ll take you for ice cream.” She untangled herself from Scott’s arms, smoothed the wrinkled fabric of her capris, then shot Bryce a look that was anything but happy. “You had no right to make promises to the kids without asking me first.”

  Dana knelt in front of Scott. “I’m sorry, Scotty, but I already have plans.”

  “You always have plans without me.” Scott got that look of abandonment little kids get when they’re excluded.

  A look Bryce knew well.

  Scott ambled out of the kitchen, his shoulders drooped, and his feet dragged as if he had bricks on them.

  Skyler pounded his spoon on the metal tray of his high chair and screamed. He recently discovered he could let out a high-pitched sound. It irritated the heck out of Reggie. But Bryce could barely hear it, and the sparkle in Skyler’s dark eyes was so damn cute.

  The toddler smiled, pleased with his performance.

  After cutting up another pancake for him, Bryce poured what little bit of maple syrup remained in the bottle over them. The last time he made pancakes, the bottle was nearly full. He was sick to death of Dana’s ex-husband stopping by to see Scott and raiding their refrigerator as if he owned the place and paid for the groceries. Reggie brought Scott expensive gifts and took him out for treats while completely ignoring Skyler. The man was a real piece of work. What kind of person could throw a nineteen-year-old girl, a three-year-old, and a brand-new baby out of the house and allow them to live in a decrepit old car? According to Dana, when Reggie first saw the baby with his caramel skin, his shock of dark hair and even darker eyes, he claimed Skyler couldn’t possibly be his son.

  And this denial of paternity, echoed with shadow music from his own childhood, was all the more reason for Bryce to love that little boy. He followed Dana into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He reached for her arm. “Can we talk privately a minute?”

  She jerked away from his grasp. “I told you last night I’m leaving as soon as I find a place.”

  Bryce’s mouth filled with a sour taste and his breathing quickened. “You can’t mean that. Scott is warming up to me more every day. And Skyler has never known any other father.”

  “Maybe it’s time he did.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’ve been talking to Reggie. He’s almost ready to step up to the plate and try again.”

  “He has a house. If what you’re saying is true, why search for an apartment?”

  She clamped her hands onto her hips. “I said ‘almost’. Reggie needs a little more time.”

  “Moving in with Reggie won’t be good for Skyler,” Bryce said. “Reggie indulges Scott and completely ignores Skyler. Can’t we try harder? It’s important to the kids and to me.” Again, he reached out to touch her arm.

  Again, she jerked away. “Everything isn’t about you and the kids. This is about me and what I want. Can’t you understand that?”

  “No,” Bryce said, then paused for a moment, trying to deflect his anger and maintain a steady voice. “I can’t understand that kind of selfishness.”

  “You can call me whatever you want. I’m not changing my mind.” She started to leave, then paused and turned back to face him. “Skyler’s doctor said to keep him hydrated. Make sure you give him a bottle of that baby apple juice I left on the counter when you put him to bed tonight. Dilute it with two-parts water,” she said, as if those instructions made her a good mother. Made her someone who cared. “And don’t worry about picking me up. Reggie will do it.”

  The sound of a car horn intruded. She picked up the bag with her waitress uniform and boots inside and raced toward the front door.

  Bryce followed as quickly as he could, his rage building. “You’re nothing but a selfish bitch,” he shouted, limping down the concrete steps. He picked up a small landscaping rock and threw it at Angela’s car. It missed. There was nothing he could do to stop them.

  After they drove away, Bryce sat on the bottom step and cradled his head in his hands. Dana didn’t give a damn about him or the way he tried to carve out a life and provide some stability for Skyler and Scott. He was merely her babysitter. Nothing else.

  Leaning back against the step, he let out a long burst of air and frustration. When he raised his head, Scott stood in front of him, still wearing his footed pajamas. “I hate her. She always goes. And she never takes me with her. She’s a selfish bitch.”

  Bryce sat, unmoving—like a boxer who’d just taken a swift fist to the temple. “I’m sorry I said that, Scotty. Your mother is having a hard time right now and we have to be patient. Maybe she’ll change her mind and we can go tomorrow.”

  Around 10:30 a.m., as was his daily custom, Bryce loaded Skyler into his stroller and they walked to Lithia Park, where he deposited Skyler into a baby swing while he kicked a soccer ball back and forth to Scott. His heart wasn’t in it. His head hurt and he kept thinking about Dana and Reggie.

  A man dressed in khakis with sharp creases and a denim jacket stood behind Skyler’s swing.

  Bryce read his lips.

  “Is it okay if I push the little guy?” The man was about thirty and well-groomed. An expensive camera with a big telephoto lens hung from his neck. He looked like a man who was part cat, the way he moved as if he had springs instead of joints. He step
ped closer to Bryce, intercepted the soccer ball and kicked it to Scott.

  “Sure,” Bryce said, never taking his gaze away from Skyler. “But not too high. It scares him.”

  “What’s wrong with your voice?”

  Bryce gave his usual, half-true, explanation that he’d suffered an accident in childhood that left him partially deaf and susceptible to ear infections that went untreated by his parents who didn’t have money to pay for doctors and antibiotics.

  “Your little boy is so cute,” the man said as he gently pushed the swing. “What’s his name?”

  “His name is Skyler,” Bryce said. “Skyler Sterling.”

  “May I take a couple photos of Skyler?”

  Something about the request seemed suspicious and Bryce said no.

  The man laughed and stuck out his hand. “My name is Montgomery Taylor, but everyone calls me Monty. I’m not a pedophile or anything, just a man who likes to photograph kids. And hopes to make a living doing it someday.”

  Bryce shook hands and introduced himself. They struck up a conversation and when he put Skyler in his stroller for the walk home, Monty walked with them. He told Bryce he lived nearby and often came to the park to practice shooting photographs in different lightings. Taylor was taking photography classes at Rogue Community College. Bryce told him about his dream to teach at the deaf school. And how he was finishing his college education at Southern Oregon University.

  Monty seemed like a nice guy and Bryce was going to need a friend if Dana left with the boys. When Monty said he was thirsty, Bryce invited him inside for a glass of ice water. After pointing Monty toward the kitchen, Bryce put Skyler down for his nap. Scott followed after him.

  When he returned from the bedroom, Monty was headed out the front door. He waved, then turned to face Bryce. “Thanks for the water. It hit the spot. Maybe once you trust me a little, you’ll let me photograph the boys in the park.”