The Eyes Have It
Page 32
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“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice announced a new arrival as Richard peeked his head around the door.
“Richard,” I greeted him with pleasure. “I’m so glad you came.”
“I wanted to get a look at the little stinker I almost claimed,” he joked.
“Almost claimed…?” I repeated, puzzled.
“After I saved your life…?” he prompted. “And you said you owed me…”
I laughed merrily.
“I remember now,” I nodded. “You said you would ask for my first born but you would have no idea what to do with a baby.
“Right,” he affirmed. “And I stand by that statement. Just the sight of one of those strange looking…aliens…give me the willies.”
“My baby is not an alien,” I objected fiercely.
“Well you have to admit, it kind of looks like E.T.,” Richard said after examining Mark critically.
“He is not an ‘it’ and he does not look anything like E.T.,” I pouted at him. “He’s absolutely beautiful.”
“If you say so,” he said doubtfully. “I guess that’s how the phrase ‘a face only a mother would love’ came into being.”
“You’ll understand one of these days when you get married and start a family,” I predicted.
“I’ve decided I’m going to be content to stay a crusty old bachelor,” Richard proclaimed, adding fervently “forever.”
“Richard…”
“Stover,” James entered the room and greeted him pleasantly “Nice of you to drop by.”
“Wilson,” Richard shook his hand. “Congratulations on your new addition. I figured since I was in the neighborhood I’d drop this by,” he added handing me a small gift bag.
“A baby gift…?” I asked in surprise. “From you…?”
“Actually it’s something I’m giving back to you.”
“Back to me…?” I echoed in bewilderment, eyeing the bag suspiciously.
“You remember the story our mothers like to tell people about when you were less than a year old?”
“The one where you took my favorite rattle and wouldn’t give it back,” I accused lightly.
“According to our mothers you gave it to me,” he reminded me teasingly.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I said soothingly.
“Open it,” he commanded, pointing to the bag.
“It can’t be,” I denied as I pulled out the familiar looking rattle.
Apparently, it had been my favorite toy and quite a few of my baby pictures showed me grasping it as if it were a lifeline.
“So you really did have it,” I said in wonder.
“In my defense, I don’t remember anything about it,” Richard admitted grinning. “My first memory was of finding it at the bottom of my vast toy box when I was about five years old. I recognized it at once from the picture your mother always shows people when she tells the story.”
“You’ve kept it all these years,” I shook my head in amazement.
“At first it was just my innate selfish streak that made me keep it, but sometime during our junior high years, knowing our parents expected us to marry one day I decided I would keep it and surprise you with it when we had our first child as a kind of joke,” he smiled ruefully. “I guess the joke’s on me.”
“Richard…”
“I’m happy for you, Allison,” Richard interrupted me. “You and Wilson were made for each other, that much is obvious even to a horrible cynic like me. I guess in a way the rattle is my last symbolic gesture, a final goodbye. You know how fond I am of flamboyant gestures. Be happy,” he kissed me on the forehead. “Just remember, if you ever need me for anything, I’ll be there for you.”
“Richard,” I repeated helplessly.
“Take care of her,” he admonished James who nodded somberly and with a “goodbye Allison,” he was gone.
For a few minutes, I was stunned into silence.
“He’s not coming back is he?” I whispered the question, tears pooling in my eyes as I realized the significance of Richard’s gesture.
“No,” James acknowledged. “I think seeing us together has become too difficult for him.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected,” he shrugged. “He’s avoided us as much as possible over the last year just as I would have if I had been the one to lose you.”
“I’ll miss him,” I confessed in a choked voice.
“I know you will,” James said understandingly, “but he needs to do what’s best for him.”
“Is it okay if I cry?” I asked miserably.
“It’s okay if you cry,” he answered softly.
Pulling Mark close, I buried my face in his baby blanket and wept.