Spinning

by Michael Baron

We kissed goodbye in the blinking lights of the twisted tree and Billie left. She’d exited so quickly, that I wondered if I’d done or said something that offended her. It definitely felt like the rug had been pulled out. Only moments earlier, I had come dangerously close to gushing.

  I returned to the couch to finish my wine. My head was still spinning from the evening’s abrupt end and no Norman Rockwell wannabes were going to be capturing this moment on canvas. But I was still feeling more okay than I had felt in a while. A lot of things in my life needed work, but it was work that I was more than willing to do.

  At one point, I thought I saw an anxious little girl peek around the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa.

  Chapter 14

  Happy Dinosaur

  I got up before Spring in the morning because I wanted to be there when she awoke. She went to the living room to check under the tree and found me sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee.

  “Looks like Santa found you,” I said.

  “Yeah?” she said, checking the few large packages under the tree.

  I knelt next to her and she turned toward me with a package.

  “What is this?” I said with a smile.

  “Open it.”

  I unwrapped with enthusiasm and removed a ceramic coffee mug with a man’s face on it. It was a cartoon from the New Yorker.

  “Thank you, Spring. I love it.”

  “Now you don’t have to drink out of plastic anymore. You never spill.”

  “That was very thoughtful.”

  “Yeah. Billie helped me.” She smiled. “That was our big secret. She didn’t tell you, did she?”

  “Billie? She’s the best secret-keeper in the world. I hugged her. “It’s really great.”

  She looked back to the presents.

  “Here,” I said, pulling out a small but heavy present. “Open this one. It’s from me, not Santa.”

  She unwrapped the silver-and-gold foil and stuck the bow on her head. I’m guessing Diane used to do the same thing.

  “What are they?” she said when she took the item out of the box. She seemed very confused. Not a good sign.

  “I found those with some of your old clothes. They’re your old baby sneakers. I had them bronzed for you.”

  I quickly realized that this was no little kid’s idea of a Christmas present.

  “Oh.”

  “You’ll appreciate the shoes when you get older.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Open that one.”

  She did. Inside was a stuffed Piglet, which she immediately liked better than the bronzed shoes. She gave it a little introductory hug and then made her way through the rest of the presents. She seemed to like the penguin slippers and the iPod Nano which I’d loaded with hundreds of great songs; it was never too early to get a rock and roll education and she really liked the chocolate candy canes.

  I handed her a box from Billie. She opened it and seemed utterly baffled by the contents.

  “What’s this?”

  I looked at the plastic card. “It’s a gift certificate to Saks,” I answered, though I might as well have spoken to her in German. “I think Billie wants to turn you into a shopaholic.”

  When we were finished, I made my annual holiday call to my brother, Scotty, and said hello to my sister-in-law. She wanted to send Spring a present. They sounded like they were doing well. Before we hung up, Scotty told me that now I’d understand.

  “Understand what?”

  “Why Mom and Pop didn’t want to have any more kids.”

  “Huh?” He reminded me that I was a mistake. That’s what brothers are for.

  “If you have kids, your life changes. No more freedom, no more parties, no more fun.”

  “You get that vasectomy yet?”

  “Don’t need one. Trust me, we take more safety measures than they do in the West Wing.”

  My first thought was that this was the kind of sentiment that caused me to stop going to see him on holidays. My next was that I might have sounded a lot like him six months ago. The difference was that I wasn’t sure that Scotty could ever feel what I was feeling now.

  New Years came and went, and Spring and I spent a quiet evening watching “Duck Soup” on TV. I even let her stay up to watch the ball drop. She had never seen a Marx Brothers movie and really enjoyed Harpo. She liked that he had a horn under his coat, and instead of me having to keep her entertained, she laughed herself silly. This made me very happy.

  Billie said she would have dropped by, if she didn’t have a date.

  My birthday is in January, and this year, I prepared to enter my 30’s at the stroke of midnight on January 14th by checking the mirror. Although I could see no discernible transformation, I knew that I had the wrong kind of mirror for this reflection. After all, I had changed decades, taken responsibility for a little girl, and owned a bookshelf full of how to’s to prove it: How to Raise a Toddler , How to Increase Your Child’s Self Esteem, and How to Relax Around Children among others. I wanted all the 4-1-1 available. I planned on a quiet birthday evening with Spring. Jim, however, volunteered to watch her and let me hit the town.

  “No thanks,” I said.

  “What? Are you crazy? It’s your birthday. I’d take you out myself, but then we’d still have to find a babysitter.”

  “Nah, I’m 30 now. I’m slowing down.”

  “Yeah, right. What about Billie?”

  “She said she was busy.”

  “How about I come by with some beers? It’ll be fun. A little beer, some frozen pizza, a can of squirt cheese…”

  “As tempting as that sounds, I think it’ll just be me and Spring.”

  “Do you remember your last birthday?”

  A smile crossed my face. “The McKittrick twins.

  “Guess it’ll be a while before we have another double date like that, huh?” Jim said. “Listen, if you change your mind, let me know. You can head out. I can look after Spring…”

  “Thanks.” I appreciated Jim’s offer, but I really wasn’t interested. I was more inclined to stay home and have a Chutes and Ladders marathon with Spring. It was a different and more fulfilling kind of fun than the McKittrick twins had been. Besides, I was pretty sure I could beat her.

  I was about to set up the board when I noticed Spring staring at the door. I thought she was planning to make a break to avoid playing when we heard a knock.

  “Surprise!” Billie exclaimed, coming into the apartment with a pink box and some funny hats. Spring ran to greet her and grabbed a hat shaped like a fish. “Bet you thought we forgot.”

  “We?” I said. She handed me a hat with the head of a bulldog.

  “Yeah!” Spring said, grabbing the box from Billie and carrying it to the kitchen.

  “Your big birthday. Number 3-0? Congratulations, Mr. Hunter, you are no longer considered a youth.”

  “Oh, really?”

  I opened the pink box expecting a bakery cake, but the edges looked a little wobbly and said Happy Birthday D! in an equally wobbly hand.

  “Billie let me help her with the letters,” Spring said.

  “Thank you, Spring. Thank you, both.”

  Billie held up another box. “That’s not everything. Spring helped me pick this up on our shopping trip.”

  I ripped the paper away from the small box. Inside, the little picture of Spring and Billie sitting on Santa’s knee sat in a beautiful handmade frame. “Hey, I have this at work.”

  “Had it at work. Fortunately you left before me tonight. I never liked that cheapo frame you put it in. Like it?”

  I hugged them both. “Thanks. I really love it. But it’s going right back on my desk at the office.”

  With our dinner, we ate cake with wobbly pink frosting and then it was bath time. As it was my birthday, Billie volunteered to prepare Spring for bed. Although I no longer minded the task, I thought one night off might be nice. I was getting older and needed my rest. While I sat on the couch sipping a birthday scotch, I listened en
viously to the ladies laughing during Spring’s song. Billie was working Spring’s routine in a different order. Fortunately, they called me to help with Spring’s story. Billie read while I performed the voice of a happy dinosaur.

  “You do it,” Spring shouted to Billie. “You do his voice!”

  “Help me out here, D-Man.”

  “It’s my birthday. I’d kinda like to see you do a dinosaur.”

  Billie made a face and then growled like a prepubescent T-Rex with more of a squeak than a roar.

  “Is that a par-rie dog?” Spring said. Then she laughed.

  “No,” Billie huffed, “it’s not a prair-ie dog. It was a T-Rex. There’s your water, good night. Go to sleep.”

  Billie and I exited and waited outside Spring’s cracked door for her to say anything. She stayed quiet.

  “She must be tired,” I whispered.

  “Must be all that dinosaur talk that, or just living with an old guy.”

  I was hoping that Billie would stay to hang out after Spring went to bed, but she obviously had other plans. As we walked back to the living room, she went for her coat.

  “You’re gonna make a good elder statesman, D-Man.”

  “Who woulda thought, huh?”

  She kissed me on the cheek. “So, do you have a hot date sneaking in here later tonight?”

  No, but I seem to have one sneaking out, I thought.

  “Me? Gotta be careful of the ticker at my advanced age.”

  She laughed and kissed me on the cheek again. “Happy birthday, D-Man,” she said and then headed out.

  I had entered my 30’s and was officially of a responsible age. No more McKittrick twins and no more sudden trips to Jamaica just because last minute airfare had dropped. I had to plan for trips. For weekend time, I even had to plan meals. Little girls had different needs when it came to nutrition than aging Manhattan spin-masters which was why Spring and I were at the grocery store, and I had a container of tofu in one hand and a box of Frankenberry cereal in the other. I was comparing the nutritional value between the two when I heard a woman’s voice talking to me.

  “I hope you’re not going to mix those together.”

  “No, I,” I said looking up. She looked familiar.

  “Dylan, right?” she said. “Your firm did our P.R. work. Catrell Financial?”

  “Hi, yes, hi.”

  She extended her hand. “Janice Van Martin.”

  I put the cereal under my arm and took her hand. “Janice, hi.” I hadn’t seen her in a year. She had been just as flirtatious when I was dating her boss. “How is…”

  “Karen? Haven’t seen her. I left Catrell and started my own firm… Van Martin Financial Services. We’ll have our first anniversary this summer.”

  Janice had to be 30. How could anyone this attractive and fiscally aggressive be in her twenties? She stood too close for me to see her legs.

  “Very impressive. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. Maybe we could get together and talk? Drinks or something? Friday night?”

  “That would work nicely,” I said. If I could find a babysitter. Maybe I could take up Jim on his birthday offer.

  “D?” A noise squeaked from behind me, and Spring held up a some fresh spinach.

  “Is this lettuce?”

  “It’s like lettuce. Spring, say hi to Ms. Van Martin.”

  “Hello.”

  Janice looked at the girl that came up to her waist. “Hello...Spring, is it?”

  Spring nodded.

  “Nice to meet you.” She looked back at me. “I didn’t know you were married.”

  “Oh, I’m not.”

  “So Friday’s okay?”

  “Completely okay.”

  She smiled. “Good. I’ll call you on a place and time. You’re still at Mason Brand, right?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I’m glad we ran into each other.”

  “Me, too. See you Friday.”

  I set both the tofu and the cereal on the shelf. The exchange with Janice had left me feeling good and I decided that we were going to buy something more interesting than both.

  “Are you leaving Friday?”

  “Probably for a little while. It won’t be too late,” I said, feeling like I was back in high school and talking to my mother. “Would that be okay with you?”

  Spring thought about it and bit her upper lip. “Okay. As long as you bring me back a present.”

  A present? I’m going out on a date, not to Miami. Am I supposed to bring her a coaster? We shook on it anyway.

  I had a good time with Janice that Friday night. She was very smart, very attractive and gave enough of an indication of being interested that even the New Dylan picked up the signs. It took me a few minutes to get back into the rhythm of a date. Some of my old moves seemed superfluous and I kept reminding myself that Janice wouldn’t be interested in hearing about Spring’s cute observation of the day or the Play-Doh giraffe she made me at daycare. Halfway through my first drink, I started getting the hang of it, though, and wondered if I could get Jim to babysit Spring again in a few nights. Then I made the mistake of glancing at my watch.

  “Am I boring you?”

  “No, no. I guess I just have to be a little more conscious of time than I would like to be.”

  “Dylan, who was the little girl in the store? A niece?”

  “It’s complicated, but the short version is I take care of her.”

  “Oh. So you’re living with someone.”

  “Not an adult someone. Only Spring.”

  I took a sip of my martini and wished it were a blue one. It wasn’t difficult to guess what was going through Janice’s head. So you’re a pre-fab. And there was no question that her body language shifted almost immediately. If I had been on more dates since Spring had arrived or if I was further along in my new situation, I might have handled this with more aplomb. As it was, the rest of the evening turned into a crash and burn. Whether she intended to or not, Janice made me feel like a much less interesting person.

  When we left the bar a short while later, we talked about meeting again sometime. It was only talk.

  Chapter 15

  Are We Ready for This?

  “D, where is Cod?” Spring had been asking me this weekly since Christmas, and no matter how I tried to answer, she didn’t seem to understand. I’d show her a map, but other than the blue color for the ocean, it made little sense to her. Finally, she asked Billie. She said the trip would be over Spring’s birthday and we’d know where it was when we got there.

  For some reason, this worked for her.

  “So you can join us then?” I said to Billie.

  “I think so. It was my present to you. I’d hate to miss out.”

  With Spring’s birthday on the weekend, I had big plans for us. She had never seen the ocean or a sunrise, and although she claimed Diane had made her taste some once, she had never seen a lobster. In grandiose fashion, I planned for the three of us to go on a sunrise cruise on Spring’s fourth birthday combining both the ocean and the sunrise and if we were lucky, a lobster.

  While I have pictures from the entire trip, I did, however, miss Spring puking on the boat. At one point, I saw Billie with her arm around Spring’s shoulder. I thought she was showing a maternal side I hadn’t seen before, so I snapped the picture. It shows Billie caring for a very green Spring staring over a hazy sunrise no lobsters.

  Another item on Spring’s wish list involved making a sandcastle. From the warmth of my Manhattan apartment, this sounded like fun, as I had forgotten my sandcastle horrors as a kid. Then, instead of creating actual sand castles, they looked more like sand piles, sometimes in the shape of a small plastic bucket and other times assuming the shape of a small cracked plastic bucket.

  In April on the north Atlantic, it’s the beginning of the season. The wind blows cold, keeping the room rates affordable. While Billie waited inside ours with the swimsuits tucked safely away in our suitcases, Spring and I began our sa
ndcastle adventure. Having learned as a child, I knew the proper tools made the job and I had carried everything we needed to build an entire sand kingdom: metal buckets, a small hoe, two small shovels, carving sticks, and a lawn chair for me. I assumed that when I became bored or Spring became an overzealous architect, I’d watch the ocean while she finished our work of art. However, the wind had yet to die down and the sand was pelting us. When one of the buckets rolled away, I gave up the chase after a hundred feet. No, our sandcastle sculpture didn’t need buckets, shovels, sticks, or hoes to take shape. When we finished, it resembled a sand pile created by…a small cracked plastic bucket. I took a picture of Spring sitting next to it before we ran for shelter in the room. Still no lobsters.

  That afternoon, as we gathered around the fireplace, Billie grabbed a copy of a Winnie the Pooh book and sat next to Spring in the love seat with it. I took a picture of Billie reading, while Spring sat next to her scanning the pictures in my Fortune magazine. Every so often, Spring would look up or giggle, and I just watched them. It was good to be out of the City for a few days.

  That night, we celebrated Spring’s birthday at a seafood restaurant. I told Spring that she could order anything she wanted. She chose the grilled cheese sandwich with French fries. On the way in, I saw a live lobster tank and had an idea. Before dessert, I excused myself and went to see the manager.

  Maine lobsters have claws and pinchers. To prevent the lobsters from doing damage to other lobsters or attacking those who might want to put them into a pot of boiling water, a heavy rubber band is placed around each pincher claw. I wanted to show Spring an impressive lobster and had selected the largest of the creatures from the tank for more impact.

  When the crew came to the table to sing “Happy Birthday” to Spring, I slipped in behind them and grabbed the concealed live Maine lobster with the rubber bands securing the evil-looking pincher claws. Spring loved the attention and laughed with Billie…until the last line of the song when I whipped out the lobster and held it over the candles on Spring’s cake. This caused the lobster to spasm, curling his tail even more into the flames, and sending the evil-looking pincher claws flailing and the rubber bands that held them snapping into the air. Spring screamed in a high pitch just long enough for me to wonder if it was the lobster puppet doing the wailing. I dropped him into an inch of frosting on the top of her cake.