Twice a Child

by Ann Elia Stewart

  “You took a cut in pay to come here?”

  James’ eyes flared with passion. “Absolutely. This is where it’s at as far as I’m concerned. Sure, you still push meds and these patients won’t recover, but I have seen them rebound. I’ve seen the fire come back into their eyes. I love my job. I love coming here.” He picked up a dandelion and began blowing it into the wind. “See, in a nursing home, I’d be considered a certified nurse’s aide or a nurse. Here, we’re called—and all the residents know it, too—a ‘shabaz.’”

  Tina wrinkled her nose. “Sha-what?”

  “Shabaz. It’s a Persian term for ‘royal falcon.’ The mightiest, the bravest, the most courageous. That’s a title I can dig.”

  “What are your responsibilities?”

  “Cook, clean, laundry. We do ambulation and follow through on their maintenance programs. And, yes, that includes toileting and bathing. You saw Joann giving Frank a shave earlier.”

  “So, it’s a full day,” Tina said.

  “Quite.”

  They sat under the weeping willow, enjoying the warm breeze. There seemed to be no need to rush anywhere, check a cell phone for messages, consult the Internet for news; no demands. It occurred to Tina that she had not thought about going back to Pennsylvania in a long time. It felt good out here and despite her accident—a random, unfortunate incident, she had decided—she liked southern California.

  As soon as she saved up some money, she’d find her own place and set up a home for her and the baby, maybe close to Grandpa. That way she could check on him more frequently; the hour’s drive from Eddie’s bungalow would grow old.

  “Can I ask you a question?” James picked at blades of grass, the early evening twilight intensifying the green of his eyes.

  Her stomach did a little flip. She really should have started to get going, but the thought of the trip to the ocean, to Eddie’s bungalow, and not knowing when she’d see James again, washed over her with a great heaviness.

  “Sure.”

  “Can I call you?”

  She never really knew what to say in situations like this; she’d allow the moment, or the guy, to sweep her away and just when she would get the hang of it, they’d be gone. “It’s funny you should say that. I was just thinking about—” But she wasn’t sure whether to share the thought.

  “About?”

  “When I’d see you again, I mean, you’re so good with Grandpa, and I—I just wondered if our shifts overlap—”

  “How about this weekend?”

  They talked on the way back to Golden Hills about making a day of it, with Frank and Joshua, exploring the town for at least as far as they could with an old man in a wheelchair and a baby in a stroller.

  That night, as Tina climbed into her car to make the trip back to Eddie’s, she thanked God for her recovery and her healthy little boy. She even thanked him for Eddie, whom she still treaded lightly around, not believing his sudden about face, but wanting to just the same.

  She couldn’t identify the fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she thought it may have something to do with James.

  And for him, she thanked God once more.

  Tina parked beside a red Mini Cooper, its license plate proclaiming, “NuStar.”

  Great. Now what? If she went inside and found Eddie with some young actress all twisted up on the sofa or floor, or heard moaning from the bedroom, what would she do? She hadn’t been living on the West Coast long enough to turn a blind eye and deaf ear to two people rolling around naked in the living room. She was all too aware of her father’s proclivities toward open relationships.

  “Imagine,” Marianne had told her the one and only time she opened up to her daughter about what went wrong in her marriage. “He told me he was bored, that he didn’t believe man was meant for monogamy. He pointed out all these uncles of his who had been married three, four times. Back then, you married the new woman you were interested in because she wouldn’t let you have it any other way. That’s what he said to me, can you believe that? Oh, he tried talking me into joining a swinger’s club—I shouldn’t be telling you this. That’s where you meet new people and you go off and—and—share intimacies. The thought of it sent me to the bathroom to throw up.”

  Poor Mom. Tina knew her mother wanted only the simple equation of life: fall in love, marry, have children, share life’s ups and downs, make it through growing old together. Seemed simple enough. And she had to admit that’s exactly what she wanted. So why was it so hard to find someone who shared the same vision of life? Why did it work for Grandpa and Grandma, but their own child, who witnessed their commitment every day, couldn’t get it right?

  Someone turned out the light in the living room. Good. Whomever he had in there with him must have migrated to the bedroom. A soft glow shone through the blinds.

  Tina unbuckled Joshua. His head flopped on her shoulder as she lifted him from the car seat, his thumb stuck firmly in his mouth. She envied his peace. To know you are safe in the arms of your mother where you can be moved and still remain unfazed, all because you know you are loved. You feel it in the steady beat of the day, the familiar scent of your mother’s skin, the touch of her hand and the soothe of her voice.

  Tina saw it with Grandpa as he sat in his wheelchair, eyes closed much of the time, but responsive to her soft greetings. When he heard her voice, his body visibly relaxed and he reached for the sound.

  “Open your eyes,” she’d tell him, and he did, springing them open as if he’d heard a loud noise. But he didn’t focus on her. He looked beyond her, wearing a smile on his face, a cover for eyesight that had grown dim. She had to move her face directly in front of him now, and even then, his eyes appeared to be opaque.

  “You found me,” he’d said tonight.

  “Of course I did, Grandpa. I’ll never lose you.”

  “But you did.”

  “Only for a little while.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “What? Grandpa?”

  He chuckled, lifted his fingers to his mouth as if smoking a cigarette, dragged on it, blew it out.

  “Yeah.”

  “Who do you think I am?”

  “Why, you’re my wife. Mamie, stop trying to confuse me with those silly games of yours.”

  She’d had to breathe hard a few times before answering him and he seemed to accept that she was, indeed, his granddaughter, Tina, the one who accompanied him on this crazy trip all the way across the United States, but when she mentioned why, he answered, “Who’s Eddie?”

  She dropped the keys on the counter, hoping the noise would alert Eddie and whomever he had selected as tonight’s companion that she’d arrived. The bungalow smelled like booze, a combination of sweet and rotten. A half full bottle of Maker’s Mark sat on the table, opened. On closer inspection, two thongs were strewn on the floor, along with a sundress and a pair of cut-off jeans, both belonging to women.

  So, there were two in there. Great. She really had to get out of there. Joshua could not be exposed to this lifestyle. He’d think it was normal.

  She tried to be as quiet as she could, but Joshua awoke just as she laid him in his crib, announcing his displeasure with a loud wail. There were no bottles prepared and since her stay in the hospital, try as she might, she could no longer produce milk for him.

  Joshua’s wails grew louder. She picked him up and moved out to the kitchen, frantically pouring milk into his bottle, water in a pan.

  “Shh, honey, Mommy’s getting you some warm milk. Soon, sweetie—” but Joshua could not be quieted.

  The door to Eddie’s bedroom flung open.

  “What the hell?”

  He emerged with a sheet thrown around him, most of it trailing to the floor. His hair was loose, graying tendrils splayed across his massive shoulders. He resembled the pictures of Zeus in her mythology books. A mighty god who will stop at nothing should he be crossed.

  “He woke up when I laid him down. He’s hungry. Sorry.”
/>   The water began to boil.

  By now, Joshua’s wails filled the bungalow, his woeful cries growing more intense from interrupted sleep and an aching belly.

  “Can’t you shut that kid up?” Eddie gathered the sheets from the floor as he spied the bottle of bourbon. “That’s where I left it.” He picked it up and took a swallow, wiped his mouth, the bottle dangling from his hand.

  “Listen, this isn’t working out. I wanted it to, you know, maybe make up for all those years, but my life—it’s different. Jesus! Give him the damn bottle, would ya?”

  She decided to focus on James. His eyes, his calming voice, the breezy afternoon under the willow. She willed the peace of the day to wash over her, through her as Eddie ranted and fumed, now comical in his sheet and long hair.

  The milk felt warm to the touch.

  “Here, sweet boy.”

  Joshua grabbed for the bottle and sucked furiously, his eyes growing heavy as he drained it.

  “Pssst. Eddie?” A young woman, her blonde hair mussed and tousled, stuck her head out Eddie’s bedroom door. “Grab that dress for me.”

  Tina recognized her from an old Disney channel movie. Riley Andrews. Wasn’t she, like, twelve? No, that movie had been made a while ago; Tina had watched it after school while waiting for her mother to come home from work. But, she looked so young.

  Eddie plucked a puddle of material off the floor.

  “What about those?” Tina pointed to the two thongs beside it.

  Unashamed, he snatched the thongs and made his way to the bedroom, the sheets trailing behind him.

  “You don’t have to go,” he told Riley, but it was half-hearted, a weak attempt to hold his old life together while his new life crashed it like a battering ram.

  Tina watched, half amused, half horrified. She wavered between feeling sorry for him that his school boy days were coming to a quick halt, and loathing him for putting his own needs—desires, really—ahead of common sense.

  In a few minutes, just as she made her way to her and Joshua’s room, two young women emerged from Eddie’s bedroom: Riley in her sundress and another, wearing only a t-shirt. She picked up the jean shorts and put them on, smoothed her short hair and smiled at Tina.

  “Hey,” she said, raising her hand in greeting.

  “Eddie told us his daughter was here for a while. Guess you must be her. I’m Riley Andrews, this is Liz, my girlfriend. Nice to meet you.”

  Tina gestured to Joshua, who now fell back into a sound sleep on her shoulder.

  “Give me a minute.”

  But by the time she had put Joshua in his crib and steeled herself to make conversation with a movie star and her girlfriend, the two had vanished.

  Eddie sat on the couch watching a half-moon sparkle on the water. She sat next to her father, trying to absorb this new insight. He bore little resemblance to the man who stepped into his shoes when he left her and her mother. The man who waited for her at the bus stop every day at three and drove her to Mickey D’s for a McFlurry if she wanted one. The man who let her cry about not getting first place in science fair even though she had spent months taking his blood pressure, listening to his heart, recording his heart rate at rest and after exercise. The man who came to her house, camera in hand, to record the beauty of his granddaughter all dressed up and ready for the prom.

  The man who blew his famous two-fingered whistle at the end of her valedictory address, who gave her a dozen red roses on her first day of nursing school.

  No, this man—her father—could never be that man. Any hope of knowing him as her father burned off like food stuck to a burner.

  “Look Eddie, I don’t care what you do with your life. That’s your business. I’ll be looking at a few places to rent tomorrow. I want to move closer to Grandpa, in Burbank.”

  Eddie drained his glass and gazed at the ocean.

  She allowed him this silence, welcomed it because she knew it wouldn’t last.

  “You still owe me something,” she said.

  The request provoked him as she knew it would.

  “Owe you? I gave you a place to get back on your feet. I found your grandfather a place to live, a damn nice place that’s costing me a fortune.” He rose, still trailing the sheet. “Look, Tina, I’m sorry. I wanted this to be different. But we all have our lives, and yours is yet to be lived. I—”

  She patted his arm, moist, sticky. “Yeah I know. I wanted that, too. But there’s something you’ve been keeping from me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She waited a moment, not wanting to lose him again to an irrational rage, some imagined grievance put upon him. When he began making his way toward the bedroom to finally put some clothes on, she spoke.

  “Rosemary. Tell me more about her.”

  The sky began to lighten and they had polished off a half-gallon of pistachio ice cream, but the exchange between them felt familiar to Tina. As Eddie told her of Rosemary, flashes of sitting beside him when she was little, digging into a container of ice cream, always pistachio, crossed her mind. They were probably watching television, “Tales from the Crypt,” Eddie’s favorite, and later, “Goosebumps.”

  “. . . it killed me that they never kept her pictures around. They took them all down, like she didn’t exist.” Eddie dipped his spoon into the container. “Jesus, I can’t believe we polished this off.” He moved toward the sliding doors. “I gotta take a piss.”

  “Tell me one more thing. Is that why you left? Because you were mad at Grandma and Grandpa’s reaction to Rosemary’s death?”

  The baby started to fuss in the other room. It was already time for his morning bottle, but maybe she could coax him back to sleep so she could at least get a few hours in. She hadn’t counted on Rosemary’s story taking all night to tell, nor had she anticipated the range of emotion her father would experience in the telling. He did everything from vomiting to laughing hysterically to sobbing.

  She laid Joshua across her lap to feed him. In a year’s time, so much had changed. Joshua’s chubby legs spilled over her lap now and he grabbed his bottle like it was the last one on earth. A tear floated on his eyelash like a drop of dew on a blade of grass.

  “I love you soooo much, Joshua Quincy Lillo.”

  A smile broadened his handsome face for an instant, then he continued his business of draining the bottle. His eyes fluttered, the tear drop vanished. He was still sleepy. Tina patted his back and rubbed his head until he fell asleep, knowing she may get an hour, two at the most.

  “So, you want to know why I took off?” Eddie’s voice carried into Joshua’s room, but the baby was too far into sleep to notice.

  “Shhh! I just fed him his bottle and I don’t want him to wake up. I need some sleep, too.”

  They moved out into the living room. Tina flopped on the sofa, one leg tucked beneath her.

  “You used to sit like that when you were little,” Eddie said.

  “And we used to eat ice cream from the container and watch horrible creatures on TV.”

  “You remember that? No way. You weren’t even—”

  “Three. I wasn’t quite three. But I remember.”

  Tears sprang to Eddie’s eyes. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

  “So? Give. Why did you disappear?”

  “I couldn’t do it. What people wanted from me. After Rosemary died the whole town looked at me funny. Like I did it or was somehow to blame. After you were born, I tried working with your grandfather in the steel business. God, Teen, it was awful. I couldn’t tell anyone, your mom thought I should suck it up, be a man because I had a family now. She wanted what she thought was a perfect family, you know, the Ozzie and Harriet model.”

  He lit a cigarette.

  “I was writing the screenplay for The Night Lovers at work when I should have been finding more jobs for the plant. It looked like I was so engrossed in my work—I ordered a whole bunch of computers to get the place into the technology age. Hell, your g
randfather was still doing payroll by hand! And then I had to hire this guy who knew how to set things up, put all the data into the computer, run spreadsheets. In the meantime, I kept writing the screenplay and at night, I’d go around scouting locations for some of the cemetery scenes.

  “Your mom thought I was wasting my time, that I wasn’t living in the real world. I let her read the screenplay. I wanted to show her what I was doing, how I was planning to provide for my family. And you know, had she reacted differently, we might all be out here together. I mean, I would have hung in there with your mom if I was doing what I love to do. It wouldn’t have mattered to me too much that I no longer was into her, I think that happens anyway. The work could have compensated.

  “So here I am, planning for all of us—yes, it was unorthodox—I mean who the hell writes horror movies and actually believes you can produce them, get them out to the world, from Lebanon, Pennsylvania? But, that’s how I was fooling myself. That’s how I was trying to keep it all together, see—family, father and son business, Sunday dinner with everyone . . . did you know your mom wanted me to be a deacon? Holy shit, I wasn’t even a good Catholic!”

  Tina sat, mesmerized by Eddie’s ranting confession. Part of it matched what her mother had told her years ago: the business not suiting him, following what she referred to as a pipe dream, but her mother’s view always came across like Eddie didn’t care about them.

  “. . . so I’m using my evenings to film the screenplay—Teen, I knew I had something, I felt it—and still trying to meet family obligations when she demanded: Stop filming that horrible movie; you’ll bring evil to your family. That’s what she said.”

  “Was she serious?”

  “Oh yeah, dead serious. After that, I invited her on some of the shoots so she could see the process. I was hoping she’d want to become part of it, we could be a team. She wanted no parts of it. We kept growing further apart. The only reason I would come home was you. The folks didn’t understand, thought I was being childish, not owning my responsibility.”