“So does Billie,” I said to Spring. “Is he a good skater?”
“So-so. He’s a little shaky on the curves. And he wears small skates.”
“Small skates? Does that matter?”
“Only if you’re a so-so skater.”
“That’s too bad. A clumsy penguin.”
“Clumsy peng-win?”
“That’s right, Spring.” Billie said.
“Did he, you know, find the goal?”
“Not without help from the goalie.”
“That’s too bad,” I said, smiling. I never particularly liked hearing the details of Billie’s conquests, though she never seemed to be uncomfortable relating them. “Hey, what do you know about little penguins? I’m doing a report: where they live, how to raise them, who takes care of them.”
“Little penguins? Nothing. Big penguins, I can help them find the goal… sometimes. Adolescent penguins, maybe. But, if I had my own penguin, I’d rent a penguin, uh, nanny.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to go that way.”
“Suit yourself.”
Spring looked at me. “Done.”
I looked at Spring’s empty Styrofoam bowl. I was kind of hoping for another couple of forkfuls. “That means it’s bath time.”
As much as I enjoyed having Billie around, I wondered how Diane would have perceived it. Only a few days after her death, I was bathing her daughter with a strange woman in the room. I’m sure she’d laugh at me and say she knew I was doing my best, but it just didn’t feel right.
With the bath, the books, the glass of water, the song, and the animal noises behind us, I kissed Spring on the cheek and turned off the light. Billie had read Harold and the Eggplant Crayon and I had done my best to act out the story, as we went. Our first performance as a team had gone pretty well. Only once did Billie read too fast. But there were no ensuing injuries. After the song, Spring told me I sang “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt” louder than anyone she had ever heard. If it was loud, I hoped it was on pitch. Billie helped during the chorus of da da da’s, but both Spring and I had heard better da da da’s before. I was surprised to hear Billie sing at all. Truthfully, I was surprised she hadn’t dined and ditched.
After tucking Spring in, I sat on the couch with Billie.
“Spring is a nice little kid,” Billie said.
“Yeah. I’ve almost known Spring longer than Diane now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to do with her?”
“She isn’t a puppy. I can’t set her in a box on the sidewalk with a sign that reads, free. But I can’t seem to locate an owner.”
“Family Services?”
“Maybe. Though the thought makes me want to vomit.”
“Maybe? You aren’t planning on keeping her, are you?”
It sounded absurd when Billie said it. “I don’t know what to do with her. I’m trying to find out if she has any relatives who might be next in line for custody.”
“What about dear old Dad?”
“Him, too. So far, I can’t find anything. Diane left an empty address book and a suitcase full of stuff that seems meaningless.”
“Like what?”
“Like a deck of cards.”
“Let me see the stuff.”
I got the suitcase and showed Billie. She picked through the goodies, admiring the thermos and ski cap. I showed her the old photo.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I thought I might be able to tell something from the picture.”
Billie took the picture, looked at it and set it down.
“Maybe it will be Family Services, after all,” she said. “Or you’re a pre-fab. I didn’t figure you for getting into the dad thing for another decade or so.”
I dumped the contents back into the suitcase, then picked up the thermos. “I’ve never owned one of these.”
“It sounds broken.”
I shook the cylinder again to hear the soft clank and tossed it into the case.
“I’m worried about Spring. I mean, until I figure out something more permanent, I have to take care of her and try to ease her through all of this stuff. I have zero experience in this area.”
“You did a great job on her room.”
“That was just money and a few phone calls.”
“You still had to think of it.”
“But I could think of it. It’s all the other stuff that confuses me. The other day, I got lost at the grocery store. I didn’t know where to look for kid food other than the mac and cheese and hot dog aisles. What kind of nutrition is that? It was fine for a few days, but there has to be more to life than processed food. The curry was amazing, by the way.”
“Some people think curry is overrated. I can imagine what you’re feeling, D-Man.”
“You can?”
Billie looked at me blankly. “No. I wish I could, though. I mean, I wish I could help you somehow. She touched my arm, and my heart warmed. It wasn’t often that Billie expressed herself this softly and this wasn’t exactly a lightweight friendship issue. I was tangled in an emotional brier. I had the feeling that she’d be willing to help, if I could tell her how.
“I want to do what’s right for Spring. I just don’t have a clue what that is.”
“Who does, D-Man? Hell, I was a mistake. My mom and dad decided to get married to cover it up.”
“Hey, I was a mistake, too.” I said. “They only wanted one child.”
“We turned out okay, right?”
“Are you sure?”
“No. But I have to say that to make my point. Nobody knows until they try.”
“What if I try and fail?”
Billie shrugged again. “You won’t do anything to her that a couple of decades of therapy won’t cure. And look on the bright side… maybe you’ll find the dad.”
Chapter 10
Along with Everything Else
I didn’t make a conscious decision to leave everything hanging, but there always seemed to be a good reason to put things off. Over the next few weeks, Spring and I started to settle into our new rhythm. Going to see the penguins was one thing. Wondering if she displayed a zoological aptitude meant I was starting to get a clue. Although she couldn’t voice her observations, I’m sure she felt the same. And while our new relationship evolved, Diane sat on the shelf.
Billie started coming around more. Sometimes, she’d bring food. Other times, she’d drop by for a drink just to check in on us. It dawned on me that Billie and I probably hadn’t gone a week in our entire association without seeing each other socially at least once. Even when I was with Diane, Billie and I would sometimes grab a drink after work, or at least go out to lunch. It was good to have her with us now. Sometimes when we’d talk, I’d notice Spring spying on us from behind the couch or under the kitchen table. At first, I thought she was just being a kid and playing. But when I saw her practicing Billie’s patented eye roll, I knew it was something more. Spring was watching Billie to learn how to be a girl.
“Look,” I whispered to Billie.
“What?”
“Shhh. Spring is under the table,” I said and noticed a little head disappear beneath it again.
Billie looked, without turning her head. “Well, you could always sell Spring to the gypsies…”
“What?” Spring said and popped up.
“Billie was kidding,” I said and held my hands out for Spring to come. I then threw a frown to Billie to let her know that certain types of kidding was out of bounds. “I couldn’t sell you. Who would take care of me?”
Spring pointed to Billie.
“I think Billie is busy taking care of herself.”
Spring pointed to herself.
“That’s right,” I said. “That’s why I have to keep you.”
Spring hid beneath the table again.
It was fascinating to watch Spring and Billie together. It was a clumsy ballet. Spring would follow Billie around and do anything Billie said, and th
en suddenly become obstinate. I had a feeling that this had something to do with Spring thinking about her mother and feeling guilty for liking Billie. For Billie’s part, she would occasionally get caught up in playing games with Spring even getting on the floor with her once and then suddenly remember that she was too cool to do that sort of thing.
“If you ever need a break,” Billie said one night, “let me know. Spring and I will go shopping.”
“You know they don’t sell pumps for preschoolers, right?”
“I’ll make a note of that.”
A routine began to develop between Spring and me. In the mornings, Spring would wait until she heard me stir and would open her door about the same time I headed for the kitchen. There, I would read the paper and have a cup of coffee, while Spring would eat her eggs. We would both be wearing our bathrobes, as Billie had mentioned to Spring that she wore one while she ate breakfast. After breakfast, we would brush Spring’s hair. I only needed to do it before breakfast once to realize that Spring preferred to eat before addressing the day. Brushing her teeth was now put off until after dressing, as well.
In a heartbeat, I had gone from Spring’s part-time playmate to full-time charge. This caused me to think about the old relic and the E.
I had been thinking about the suitcase when I awoke that morning and I had dreamed about finding a hidden drawer. As often happened in dreams, after seeing the secret compartment, I couldn’t believe I had missed it the first hundred times. Of course, the real old relic had no special hiding places and would never be anything other than a broken box for someone else’s miscellaneous memories.
It was 6:30 am. I grabbed my robe and headed toward the kitchen, pausing at Spring’s door to listen as I walked by. I put on the coffee and browsed through the headlines ,while the Kona bubbled away. Brewing Kona coffee had to be one of my favorite smells next to women’s perfume. I was still enjoying the coffee aroma when I realized the paper I was reading, which was normally still outside my door, had been on the kitchen table. Then I noticed the step stool next to the cracked front door.
“Spring?”
I ran back to her room, confirmed that it was empty and then ran into the hall. I went to Jim’s door to wake him.
“What’s up?”
“Spring’s missing.”
Jim was in the hall before I knew it. He ran one way and I went the other; two men running through the halls in their robes. We met back at the elevators.
“You stay here in case she comes back in that one, I said. Jim agreed. “I’ll head downstairs to see if they’ve seen her.”
I kept pushing the elevator call button to remind it that this was important and I was in a hurry. By the time I made it downstairs, I was furious at Diane for leaving her only daughter with such an irresponsible man.
When the doors opened, the security guard was already escorting Spring toward me. “Mr. Hunter, good morning. Did you lose something?”
“Spring!”
“I met her a few minutes ago,” he said, holding Spring’s hand. “She said she was going for ‘lotty. I assumed she meant a latte, but she had forgotten her money. We were just on our way back to your apartment to get some and maybe see if you wanted to join her.”
I shook his hand. “Thank you, Mister… ”
“Vanderhoof. I’ve been doing security here for a number of years.” I didn’t know if he added that as a form or recrimination, but I took it as one.
“Mr. Vanderhoof. Yes, thank you.” Spring was wearing her robe. “Aren’t you a little underdressed for going out for a latte?” I tried to keep the edge out of my voice, but I’m pretty sure I failed.
She shrugged and I could tell by her guilty face that she knew she might be in serious trouble. We returned upstairs and only pushed the button for our floor.
When the doors closed, I lost whatever composure I had standing in front of Mr. Vanderhoof. “What were you thinking?” I said, sternly. My heart was still racing. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there? Do you have any idea?”
She simply looked at me.
“You never leave the apartment without me. Understand?”
She nodded and her eyes filled with tears. When the elevator doors opened, Jim greeted us.
“Miss Spring, Mr. Hunter… may I escort you to your apartment?” Jim looked at me. “Where was she?”
“The security guard, Mr. Vanderhoof, caught her on her way for a latte. Apparently, she left her American Express card in her other robe.” I gave Jim an expression that let him know how frightened and upset I was. He returned one that I only later understood to mean, “Go easy on her.”
Inside the apartment, I locked the door, removed the footstool, and sat Spring down at the table. She stared at me, with little gray eyes, messy black hair, and a bitten upper lip. My first inclination was to scold her further, to make sure I had driven the point home. But as I looked at her, I realized I’d already delivered that message and that the last thing she needed was to hear it again.
“I was worried about you,” I said.
She stayed quiet.
“It was nice that you thought about getting me a latte, but next time, it would mean more to me if we went together, okay?”
She agreed.
“I’d miss you if I lost you. You do know that, don’t you?”
Still biting her lip, she nodded.
I reached for her and hugged her. She started crying into my bathrobe. My pulse was still pounding.
I felt like I should check my wallet to see if my name had changed, along with everything else.
“Good night, Spring.”
She shook her head.
“What?”
“That wasn’t a pa-rie dog.”
“Pra-rie dog. And yes, it was.”
“Do it again.”
I rolled my head around and hopped on my toes to warm up. I imagined that Johnny Depp did the same thing. “Ready?”
With Stanislavsky-like precision, I pulled my hands to my chest, stuck my upper teeth out, searched from side to side looking for cars, and then crossed the road.
Spring laughed.
“There. You didn’t like that the first time?”
“I wanted to see it again.”
“That’s what I thought.” I kissed her on the forehead and turned off the lamp on the night stand. “Night, Spring.”
“Night.”
As usual, I closed the door most of the way, leaving only a crack of light to enter Spring’s room and waited. I convinced myself that this wasn’t eavesdropping because I needed to know what Spring was thinking, so I could help her. She spoke to Diane nightly, but usually in the dark. Tonight, I heard the night stand light click.
“Mom, it didn’t look like a pra-rie dog. I miss you.”
I heard her pick up Diane’s picture then get out of bed and walk to the large decorative pillow that usually sat on her bed and now rested on the floor.
“You can have the bed,” she said. “Yeah, Mommy?”
Since Diane had died, Spring had become more animated in the imagined discussions with her mother. Although I hadn’t paid much attention when Diane was around, it seemed her level of imagination had grown along with her language skills.
“Yeah, I like D. Sometimes I wish he had Pop-Tarts like at daycare.” She folded her arms and shrugged. “And I don’t like squi… squid.”
I wanted to interrupt and tell Diane that I had never made Spring try calamari and that I had offered it to her on only one occasion. Instead, I continued to listen intently.
“That’s Billie. Yeah, I like her. Yeah.” She scrunched into a ball with her arms wrapped around her knees. “Yeah, grape juice. Okay, night.”
Spring put the picture back on her night stand, turned off the light and returned to the pillow. Later, when she had fallen asleep, I would put her in her bed.
As I walked out to the living room, I heard a thump on the door. And then there were two thumps… three thumps. It was late
for a school night.
“Hey.” It was Billie.
“Hey.”
“I need to crash,” she said. She slipped past me and into the living room.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I was just in the neighborhood.”
“Which is a short cab ride from your neighborhood.”
“Don’t trifle. I brought Spring some DVDs.” She held out her hand.
“Thanks. Make yourself…”
“A drink? What are you having?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
“Cool. Thanks, D-Man.”
I watched Billie strut to the kitchen. I could tell she was buzzed.
“Wine?”
“Sure.”
When Billie gave me my glass, she touched my hand. “Give me a hug,” she said. She pressed close and kissed me on the cheek. I just stood there, not knowing what to do. We had always been physical with each other, ever since we were extremely physical with each other. But in this setting in this life the contact felt different to me. Perhaps I was feeling a little starved. I was certainly feeling more than a little needy.
“Billie?”
She stayed quiet, then I felt her weight shift into my arms.
“Billie?” She had passed out. I managed to put down both of our wine glasses, lifted her up, carried her to the couch and sat next to her.
I picked Billie up and carried her to my bed where she could sleep things off. In the morning, I would get her up in plenty of time to get home and then to the office. Since she had been “stomping out my fires,” that was the least I could do.
I took her shoes off and this must have been a trigger of some sort, because she began to pull off her top. As it came over her head, she rested with an arm caught in the sleeve. With a second effort, she pulled it off and dropped the shirt to the floor. She was wearing the sexiest bra I had ever seen. It was made of pink lace and black trim. I wasn’t staring - well, I was staring, but it was unintentional. She had taken me by surprise. Her red hair spilled over my pillows, her arms spread wide. She rubbed her feet together. I decided to leave the stockings alone and cover her with a blanket…fast.
“D-Man,” she whispered, “dance with me…”
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