Light as a Feather

by Dan Dillard

  Chapter 10

  Sean was an easy baby. He smiled and slept when he was supposed to. The kind of child that made you so damned happy, you went and had another one. He even walked and talked early. I had a fine job, very little debt aside from the house payment and Vicky was beautiful.

  Is beautiful.

  We were a family in love. It wasn’t truly perfect, but looking back, I don’t see how life could’ve been any better. Maybe if my sister could’ve been involved and known her niece and nephew. I suppose it takes those setbacks in life to make life, well…life. And as sad as it is, there is something magical about losing a loved one so young. It freezes them in time and like famous actors or musicians lost in their prime…they never grow old and never fade away. Their magic lives on.

  Vicky and I fought and had our share of money troubles. There were car repairs and little Sean suffered a broken arm. I was pigheaded from time to time and Vicky excelled at being a bitch when she felt it was called for. Work was a pain in the ass, but none of that matters in the long run because we were a family in love.

  We took summer vacations and weekend getaways and I did my best to keep them away from my father, who the liquor hadn’t yet killed. We did all of the extended family things with her parents. I saw Alex on occasion at those gatherings, now my brother-in-law, but our friendship had waned. We just chose different life paths. He was and is still a good uncle to our children. I hope he says the same about me.

  Mom died before our wedding. It was her heart. Not a heart attack, I just think it broke after Danny and I moved away and the fracture never healed. It hurt at first that she wasn’t there to see the ceremony, and that she never met my children, but after all she had been through—and only what I saw, not what went on when the doors were closed—I decided to be happy for her and keep her in my heart. We told the kids she was their guardian angel, watching to keep them safe.

  The pains in my chest came on gradually and at first I thought nothing of them. I wrote them off as a strained muscle or maybe gas. I wondered if a broken heart could be hereditary. More than one doctor checked my heart and the consensus was that I had an irregularity, but it was nothing to worry about. I was to keep an eye on it. So that’s exactly what I’ve done. That winter, when I was having those pains, I wondered if Nataliya had somehow found her way to me and that maybe she was giving my ticker a love tap as a gentle reminder.

  I received a Christmas card from Matt that December. We hadn’t spoken in almost a year due to life and work and all the other excuses grown-ups make. It was a generic card. Happy Holidays on the outside, and inside there was nothing but blank white cardstock. He’d written a short note.

  Hey Todd,

  How’s the baby and that gorgeous wife? What’s that kid’s name again? Just kidding. I’m moving for work and wanted to give you my new address. We’re gonna be neighbors! Dad’s retiring in a few months. Maybe we can all get together someday soon.

  Your brother, Matt.

  At the bottom, he’d written his new address and phone number. We weren’t actually going to be neighbors, but he was moving to a town that was less than an hour away and that meant visits instead of long distance phone calls. I was excited at the opportunity to see him again.

  “Great,” Vicky said when she read it.

  I could tell her heart wasn’t in it. She wrote his address down in her book with all the other addresses, then handed the card to Sean who chewed on it with glee.

  “You sound upset, hon,” I said.

  “He’s still single. He’ll wanna go out and drink and whore around.”

  She was smiling, but I read some truth in her words. I took the card away from Sean and wiped his drool off on my shirt tail. “Don’t eat it,” I said and handed him something plastic with bugged-out eyes to sooth his nagging gums.

  “I’m not sure we’ll be whoring. Drinking is a possibility, but you know my policy on that.”

  “Right. Opposite of your father.”

  “Exactly.”

  Sean gave the plastic toy with bugged-out eyes a loud, sloppy raspberry and then laughed at himself.

  “Whoring might be fun, now that you mention it,” I said, hoping for a grin.

  I got no response. Her eyes were focused on some point in space and I could almost hear her thoughts.

  “Speaking of old John, have you spoken to him lately?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No, not in a while.”

  She put a hand on my knee and looked at me soberly.

  “You should.”

  Her eyes put the shame in my heart. She had a knack for pointing out when I was not keeping up my end of the bargain. The bargain was for me to be a better man and better father than he was. A better man would call his father—message received, dear. Clear as high definition digital cable.

  “Okay. I’ll call, and I promise not to get crazy with Matt. I thought maybe we’d have him over for dinner, or we could all catch a game or something?”

  “That sounds about right,” Vicky said.

  She scooped up the little prince and took him for a late lunch in the kitchen. He cooed and babbled and drooled all over her t-shirt. Once he was strapped into his high chair and had a bowl of Cheerio’s in front of him, she stuck her head back through the doorway.

  “Has he met Kristin?”

  I didn’t hear her. Baseball was on, and for my entire life, the Atlanta Braves had been a priority. They were up four to two in the sixth inning and Maddux was pitching. I was still a little miffed about the trade of Deion Sanders to the Reds, but by that time he looked like he’d started leaning more toward football anyway.

  “Todd.”

  “Huh?”

  Pitch, foul tip. Strike one.

  “Has he met Kristin?”

  “Matt?”

  “Yes.”

  Pitch. Swing. Strike two.

  “Your cousin?” I asked, only half paying attention.

  “Yes, my cousin.”

  Pitch. High and outside. Ball.

  “When would he have met her?”

  Pitch, swing, strike three. Commercial break. I walked into the kitchen and sat next to the baby. Sean stuffed a Cheerio into his mouth and chewed with his two teeth. A ribbon of drool fell to the tray. Sesame Street was on the little combination 13” television and VCR that sat on the kitchen counter. It was his favorite video tape.

  “I don’t know. Maybe that cookout from last summer?” She dumped something green from a jar of baby food into a plastic bowl and set it on the kitchen table.

  “He didn’t make it to that one.”

  “Well, maybe they’ll both make it to the next one. If we’re going to be neighbors, and you want to continue to be friends with him, he’ll need a wife and kids.”

  She smiled and sat on my lap.

  “Speaking of which. I think we should get on with having another,” she said. Her arms wrapped around me and she planted a wet kiss on my mouth. I must say I enjoyed it. I enjoyed all of them.

  “Can we practice a little first?” I said.

  “Raising them or making them?”

  “Making.”

  “But of course,” she said.

  Sean threw a handful of cereal at us and giggled.