The DH

by John Feinstein

Alex saw their dad nodding his head.

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

  The drive only took a few minutes, and they got lucky, finding a parking space not far from the waterside entrance to Faneuil Hall. They walked through the arch that led into the outdoor promenade and then into Quincy Market. Even at ten-thirty on a cool spring night, it was bustling, everything open late apparently for the holiday weekend. They made their way past the familiar food stands until they came to Regina’s—Alex and Molly’s favorite pizza in Boston.

  “You know Bertucci’s closed in Washington,” their dad said as they waited for their pizza to be heated in the oven. He was talking about another pizza place that Alex also liked.

  “Really? When?”

  “About a year ago. I found out last time I was in D.C. Tried to go there to grab a quick bite, but it was gone. I thought maybe it was just the Dupont Circle location, but when I Googled it, I found out they’d all closed down there. Still open here, though—thank goodness.”

  It occurred to Alex that their dad was talking to them the way he had when they were still a family—which, remarkably enough, was less than a year ago.

  Even though it was cool and breezy, they decided to take their pizza and drinks outside. There were eight slices of pizza, and Alex felt as if he could eat all of them. He settled for four. Luckily, Molly and their dad were happy with two apiece.

  They settled down on a bench not far from the statue of the great Celtics coach Red Auerbach. After they’d been eating for a couple of minutes, Dave Myers leaned back and said, “Okay, why don’t you two tell me what happened back there at the station.”

  Molly looked at Alex. As the big brother, he guessed he was the spokesman.

  “Look, Dad, we don’t know Megan all that—” he started.

  Their dad broke in. “That’s for sure.”

  Alex held up a hand. “You asked a question, right?”

  Their dad nodded. “Right. Sorry. I’ll let you finish.”

  He did. Alex went through the disastrous lunch back in December and the fact that their father had all but disappeared the last few months and how much they had been looking forward to spending time with him this weekend.

  When Alex was finished, their dad looked at Molly.

  “Moll, anything you want to add?”

  Molly was much calmer now, munching on her pizza. Still, she didn’t hesitate to tell their father what she thought.

  “Dad, how can you like her? She’s a snob. And she’s not nearly as pretty as Mom.”

  That made Dave Myers laugh for the first time since they’d gotten off the train. “Moll, your mom is beautiful, just like you are.”

  There was silence for a moment. Then he continued, “I hear what you’re both saying. I guess bringing Megan to the station probably wasn’t a good idea.”

  “Probably?” Alex and Molly both said.

  “Okay, wasn’t a good idea,” he amended. “But I can tell you our intentions were good. Megan was very upset at how badly things went in December. She does want to have a good relationship with you guys, and she thought by coming to the station it would be a way of letting you know that.”

  “So it was her idea,” Alex said.

  “Yes, Alex, it was her idea. But if you want to blame someone, blame me. I could have told her no.”

  “Could you have, Dad?” Molly said. “Really?”

  Dave Myers didn’t answer that one.

  “Look, my office is closed tomorrow. The three of us will have all day together—most of it anyway.”

  “What does that mean?” Alex asked.

  “We’re all going to dinner tomorrow night, all four of us,” Dave Myers said. “At Ruth’s Chris.”

  Alex groaned. If anything could ruin a great steak dinner, it would be the presence of Megan Wheeler.

  They slept in the next morning, and to Alex’s surprise, their dad made them breakfast. In the old days, their mom had done all the cooking.

  “Okay, here’s the plan,” he said as he handed Alex and Molly plates with fried eggs and toast on them. Alex could smell bacon sizzling. The day was getting off to a good start.

  Or so he thought. As he and Molly dug into their eggs, their dad said, “I have to go into the office for a couple of hours, so I thought—”

  “I thought you said the office was closed today,” Molly said a split second before Alex said it.

  “It is. But I have a backlog of paperwork that has to be done by Monday, and I’m keeping all day tomorrow clear because I’ve got tickets for us to go to Fenway, and then, since the Celtics are playing at twelve-thirty on Sunday, I thought we’d go to the game, and then I’ll take you right to the train station.”

  That sounded good to Alex. Unless…

  “Do you have three tickets for the games or four?” he asked.

  “Four,” their dad said.

  “Can’t we get any time just with you?” Alex said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time,” Dave Myers said. “We’d have more time if you two slugabeds hadn’t slept so late. We can talk this afternoon when I get back from the office and tomorrow before we go to the Red Sox game.”

  He was now taking the bacon off the stove. He was clumsy and dropped a strip.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Okay,” Alex said. “But no more excuses.”

  “I’m not making excuses,” he said defensively. Too defensively, Alex thought.

  He looked at his watch. “I have to go. I should be home no later than three. Our reservation isn’t until six-thirty, so we’ll have time then.”

  “What are we supposed to do while you’re gone?” Molly asked.

  “Your mom said you both have homework that you brought with you,” he said. “It’s raining right now anyway, so why don’t you get that out of the way.”

  “You sure you’ll be home by three?” Alex asked.

  “If I get going right now,” their dad said.

  “Fine,” Alex replied, resigned.

  “If you guys want to put the dishes in the dishwasher when you’re done, that wouldn’t be a bad thing,” their dad said.

  He walked over and gave them each a kiss on the forehead. He had always done that in the past—Alex was surprised to realize he’d missed it.

  “Call if you need me,” he said on the way out.

  Alex picked up a strip of bacon. Molly was staring at the door. She had eaten her eggs, but her bacon was untouched. Alex knew Molly loved bacon, so he knew something was up. Finally, she picked up a strip of bacon and pointed it at Alex.

  “He’s lying,” she said.

  “Lying? About what?”

  “About going to the office. He’s going to see her.”

  “What makes you say that?” Alex asked. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

  “What does Mom call it?” Molly said. “Women’s…”

  “Intuition.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Women’s intuition. I can just tell.”

  Impossible, Alex thought. He looked at his sister. She wasn’t hysterical or acting crazy. She was perfectly calm. And, worst of all, he thought she might be right.

  They cleaned up the kitchen and got out their books. Their dad’s townhouse in the North End was nice enough, but it was new and strange and Alex couldn’t get comfortable. He stared at a description in French of yet another D’Artagnan duel and, after about thirty minutes, realized he hadn’t read a word.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s find out.”

  “Find out what?” Molly said, looking up from her math book.

  “Find out if Dad’s really at the office.”

  Without waiting for Molly to respond, he walked to the phone in the kitchen and dialed their father’s direct number at the office. Molly followed him into the kitchen. After four rings, the phone went to voice mail. Alex hung up.

  “No answer,” he said.

  “Doesn’t mean he’s not there,” Molly said. “He could be
in the bathroom or just not answering his phone because he’s working on stuff.”

  “He’d see this number come up if he was at his desk,” Alex said.

  “So wait a few minutes and try again.”

  “Don’t think so,” Alex said.

  He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He went to his computer, which was sitting on the table in the family room.

  “What are you doing?” Molly asked.

  “Looking up a phone number for Party Forever,” he said.

  “Megan’s business? Why would you want that number?”

  “Because, remember, she said she works out of her house.”

  He found the number on Party Forever’s website. He picked up his cell phone and walked to the kitchen window. That was the best place in the house to get cell service. He glanced in the direction of the harbor, took a deep breath, and entered the number.

  “Why are you using your cell?” Molly hissed, as if someone might hear her.

  “She’ll recognize the house number and know that something’s— Hi, Megan, it’s Alex. I’m sorry to bother you. Is my dad there yet?”

  There was a pause at the other end of the line. Alex held his breath for a moment. If he was wrong, there was going to be a huge fight when their dad got home, and they would owe him—and Megan—an apology.

  “He…he just walked in, Alex. Hang on a minute.”

  Alex wanted to cry. He also wanted to hang up. But there was no time.

  “Alex, what’s wrong?” he heard their dad say. “Why didn’t you call on my cell?”

  “Because Molly and I thought you might be lying,” Alex answered, his voice quaking with anger and hurt. “And we were right. Stay with Megan, Dad. We’ll figure out how to get to the train station.”

  “Alex, hang on—”

  Alex didn’t. He hung up.

  In a twist, Molly was far calmer about what had happened than Alex. He wanted to get a cab to the train station, change their reservations, and go home right away. She persuaded him to pause long enough to call their mother first.

  Alex was about to pick up the phone when it began to ring. The caller ID said it was their mom.

  “Alex,” she said. “I know how upset you are, and you’re absolutely right. Your dad is on his way back there right now. Don’t leave. Wait for him.”

  Their dad had obviously called her right away. “Did he tell you what he did?” Alex asked.

  “Yes, and I don’t even know what to say to you about it, I’m so upset. Which is why I understand why you’re so upset. He said to me, ‘Alex and Molly need to understand that I still love them,’ and I told him he had a strange way of showing it and that he needed to prove it to both of you. I think—I hope—he got it. The fact that he said he’d come right home was, I thought, a good sign.”

  Alex was torn. He was so angry with their father that he wanted him to come home to an empty house. Any explanation for what he’d done was going to sound pretty hollow.

  “What can he possibly say to make us feel better about this, Mom?” he asked.

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “I honestly don’t know,” their mother finally said. “But at least give him the chance to try. When he’s finished, if you still want to come home, call me.”

  Alex looked at Molly, who was standing a couple of feet away.

  “Tell you what, I’ll leave it up to Molly,” he said. “She’s the one who knew right away he was lying. If she’s willing to stay and listen, I’ll stay and listen.”

  “Fair enough,” their mom said. “I’m home, so call whenever you need me.”

  Alex hung up and looked at Molly. “You heard?”

  She nodded. “Mom’s right,” she said. “He’s still our dad. A bad one right now, but still our dad.”

  They heard the car pull into the garage about twenty minutes later. Alex had thought about packing but decided to wait. Dave Myers walked into the family room carrying a large bag in his hands.

  “I thought we should eat,” he said. “I stopped at Shanghai Village and got some Chinese.”

  Shanghai Village had been a family hangout once upon a time, the place they went for dinner most Sunday nights. Alex was certainly hungry. He was always hungry. It crossed his mind that if their dad had been confident enough to stop for food, their mom must have called to tell him she had talked the kids into waiting for him.

  “Fine,” Alex said, getting up to walk into the kitchen. Molly, without a word, did the same. They silently got out dishes and opened the containers of food, and each got a drink. Then they sat down at the kitchen table. Alex and Molly started eating. It was their dad’s move. He understood.

  “Look, all I can say is I flat-out blew it—last night and today,” he said. “I got caught in between you guys and Megan, and I made two bad decisions.”

  “No, Dad, you made three bad decisions,” Alex said, still feeling as if their dad wasn’t getting it. “First was bringing her to the station, second was deciding to go see her today, and third—and by far worst—was lying to us about it.”

  Dave Myers picked up his chopsticks and put some kung pao chicken into his mouth. He took a swig of water.

  “You’re right,” he said. “Three bad decisions. I need to do a better job of finding a balance—”

  “What balance?” Molly interrupted, speaking for the first time since their dad had walked in the door. “There’s no balance. We haven’t seen you for months, and we’ve been here for all of five minutes and you’re already out the door to see her. You obviously still don’t get it. We’re your kids. Either we come first or we don’t come at all. Do you think for one second that Mom would ever tell you to find ‘balance’ between taking care of us and taking care of her? No. It’s your fiancée who’s using the word ‘balance.’ We’re not her kids, so she has no reason to care about us. You’re the one who is supposed to care about us.”

  Alex stared at his sister for a second. She couldn’t possibly be two months shy of turning thirteen. There was no doubt in his mind that she was the smartest—and maybe the most mature—person in the room.

  “Moll, those are pretty strong words,” their dad said. “You know how much I love you.”

  “No, I don’t!” Molly said, tossing her chopsticks down. “Neither does Alex right now. All I know is that since we left Boston, you’ve hardly come to see us at all, you’ve gotten engaged to a woman while you’re still legally married to Mom, and now, when we come here to supposedly make up for what happened at Christmas, you lie to us so you can run off and see her!”

  Dave Myers looked at Alex as if to say, Help me out. Alex was a long way from there.

  “Dad, she’s right,” he finally said. “Let me ask you: Are you willing to call Megan”—unlike Molly, he managed to actually use her name—“and tell her you’re spending the rest of the weekend with just us because you have to start fixing your relationship with your kids?”

  Now it was their dad’s turn to put down his chopsticks. “I’m going to have to think about that one, Alex. I mean, that’s a lot—”

  Alex stood up. “Don’t bother, Dad,” he said. “Don’t think about it. It’s fine.”

  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and walked to the front door. “I’m going outside to call Mom. Molly, go upstairs and pack.”

  He didn’t wait for their father to respond. It was time to go home.

  Their dad insisted on driving them to the train station once he realized that Alex and Molly weren’t going to change their minds about leaving.

  “We can take a cab, Dad. It’s okay,” Alex said. “It’s only a few minutes away.”

  “No. I’ll take you,” Dave Myers said.

  There wasn’t much talk in the car en route to the station. Alex thought their dad might make one last plea for the two of them to stay, but he didn’t. He dropped them at the front of the station, saying only, “I’m very sorry about this. I promise that I will try to fix it.”

 
Alex had a lot of answers for that—most of them beginning We’ve been hearing that for nine months now. But he left it alone. He and Molly walked into the station, which was crowded—it was, after all, Good Friday—but not nearly as crowded as Thirtieth Street Station had been the day before.

  Once they had changed their tickets and gotten on the train, which wasn’t quite full, Molly fell asleep quickly—no doubt emotionally wrung out. Alex took one more swing at D’Artagnan and friends but was staring out the window when his phone buzzed, telling him he had a text. He almost didn’t bother to look at it, figuring it was his dad with another lame apology.

  When he did look, he almost wished he hadn’t. It was from Coach Birdy. Billy had surgery early this morning, it began. Bleeding on the brain had to be relieved. He came through OK but is in intensive care at least until tomorrow. More when I know more.

  A wave of guilt swept through Alex. He had been so caught up in his family’s ongoing melodrama that he hadn’t given any thought to Billy Twardzik since leaving Philadelphia. He also wondered how this news would land on Matt. He had never even gotten around to asking his dad about where Matt might stand legally if Billy’s family followed through on their threat to sue.

  While he was thinking about all this, his phone rang. He looked and saw it was Christine. No doubt she had seen the text.

  “Where are you?” she said as soon as he answered.

  “On the train, coming back from Boston.”

  “Back from Boston?” she said. “Didn’t you just go up there last night?”

  “Yes….Long story,” he said, not at all eager to tell it.

  “Oh God,” she said. “Something happened with your dad. Okay, I won’t ask you now because I can barely hear you with the train noise. You got Coach Birdy’s text, right?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s awful.”

  “Matt called me,” she said. “Coach Birdy called him before he sent the text out. He said this is very, very serious. Matt’s scared out of his mind. And he’s got no one to talk to.”

  For a split second, Alex thought about saying, Apparently he has you to talk to, but he quickly flushed the idea. Not only would the comment be his crazy jealousy talking, it was pretty tasteless at this moment.