Give, a novel

by Erica Carpenter Witsell

  “Oh, Len.” Laurel gave a little half-sob into the phone, and immediately Len regretted his words. He braced himself for another outpouring of self-pity. But after a moment of strained silence, Laurel cleared her throat. “Will you tell Jessie . . . Will you tell the girls for me?”

  It was amazing how fast his repugnance came back. “Are you not going to say goodbye?”

  “Oh, I can’t. We’re leaving on Friday.”

  “But before you leave?”

  “Oh, Len. I just can’t. There’s so much to do. And don’t you think it will be easier this way? Jessie has no sense of time, anyway. She’ll hardly know I’m a little farther away, that she’ll have to wait a little longer.”

  There were any numbers of things Len could say to this. Easier for Laurel, not easier for him. Certainly not easier for Jessie. He could have told Laurel how Jessie tried her three-year-old best to count the days until Saturday. But he bit his tongue; Laurel would do what she wanted. She always had.

  Len did not think he could stomach Jessie’s disappointment about Laurel’s moving and the temporary cessation of her weekend visits with her mother. Whenever he imagined telling her, he could picture too clearly how her serious little face would fall, her forehead wrinkling as she struggled to understand. It left him feeling wretched, and so he put it off.

  But on Thursday morning, he knew he could wait no longer. And so he armed himself against Jessie’s misery as well as he could. As they ate their cereal together at the kitchen table, he set down his coffee carefully and said, “How would you girls like to go to the zoo on Saturday?”

  Jessie whooped and Emma, not understanding, dropped her spoon on the floor and clapped her hands. Len sighed with relief. He took another sip of coffee and stole a glance at his older daughter. Jessie was regarding him seriously.

  “Did you say Saturday, Daddy?” she said. “Saturday is . . . What about Mommy?”

  “Mommy is . . . Mommy can’t see you this Saturday, sweetheart.”

  He watched as Jessie’s face fell; he saw the effort with which she fought back her tears and held his arms out for her. She buried her face in his chest, not making a sound.

  “It’s okay, Dessie,” he said. “You don’t have to hold in the cry.”

  He felt her body begin to shake against him, but still she made no sound. Holding her gently, he told her that Laurel was moving to another house, that she needed time to get settled in.

  “Where is the new house?” Jessie asked him, her face still hidden against him. He could feel the wetness of her tears where they had seeped through the fabric of his shirt. “Is it far?” she said.

  “Not too far,” he said carefully. “You’ll still get to see her.”

  “But far?”

  He sighed. “Don’t worry, Dessie. You’ll see her soon, I promise. And . . . we’ll go to the zoo together, okay? We’ll see otters, monkeys, maybe bjrafs . . .” He purposely pronounced it like she did, trying to get a rise out of her, but Jessie remained motionless in his arms, her face hidden.

  “Maybe you can ride a camel?” He hesitated. The zoo in Eureka was small. They might not even have camels, he thought with despair. “If they have any,” he added, not bearing the thought of having to disappoint her again.

  “But we can get ice cream. They’ll definitely have ice cream.” He cast about for something, anything to mitigate her despair. “Maybe we could invite Sarah to come with us?”

  Jessie stirred against his chest, pulling back her wet face to peer up at him. “Really?”

  He smiled with relief. “Of course. We’ll ask her this afternoon.”

  “And she’ll come?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know, Jessie. But we’ll ask, okay?”

  “Can we ask her now?” Jessie asked.

  “No, sweetheart. She might still be sleeping. We’ll ask her this afternoon when she comes.”

  Jessie had been satisfied with that, but as soon as he got to his office, Len dialed Sarah’s number. He knew that Jessie would almost certainly ask Sarah herself as soon as Sarah picked them up from daycare, and, without him, Sarah would have no way of understanding the seriousness with which Jessie made the invitation, nor the deluge of tears that might follow if she refused.

  “No, sillypants,” he could almost hear Sarah responding. “That’s something for you to do with your dad.” Or worse, “Don’t you see your mom on Saturdays?”

  Len waited anxiously as the phone rang. When Sarah picked up at last, her ‘Hello?’ a little breathless, Len was surprised by his relief.

  “Oh, you’re there,” he said. “Thank God.”

  Sarah was immediately worried. “What is it? Did something happen?”

  “Oh, no,” he said at first. “It’s nothing. Well, actually, it is something,” he stammered. Quickly, he explained about Laurel, and how there would be no visit this Saturday, maybe none for a while, even, and how he had tried to circumvent Jessie’s despair by suggesting a trip to the zoo.

  “But it wasn’t working,” he said apologetically, “until I said we could invite you, too.”

  Sarah let out her breath. “Wow.”

  “I’m sorry, Sarah. I know this puts you in a strange position. But I just felt I needed to explain, before you heard it from Jessie herself.”

  “I understand. But Dr. Walters—how could you?” He heard her give a sharp, exasperated little sigh, but she didn’t speak again.

  “How could I?” he said at last.

  “Oh, don’t be dense. This is exactly why I didn’t want this job. I told you. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Laurel. This is not my business. And now I’m the one who has to disappoint that sweet little girl.”

  “I know—I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. Of course you don’t need to come with us. It’s just that . . . I just couldn’t stand to see Jessie so upset. But, you’re right, of course. I shouldn’t have brought you into it.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” Sarah’s tone was sharp, and Len was surprised by how wounded he felt by it.

  “You’re right, Sarah,” he said again. “And I am sorry. I just called to . . . I just wanted to explain the situation. So you’d know.” “Well, thank you.” Her tone was brusque. “I’ll see you this evening.”

  When Len hung up the phone, he felt deflated and regretful, like a child who had been scolded. Sarah was right; it hadn’t been fair of him to bring her into this. It wasn’t her job to protect Jessie from disappointment, nor should it be her lot to bear the guilt if she couldn’t. He had passed the buck. He had set her up.

  Oh, God, what she must think of him! Twice, he picked up the phone to apologize again, but each time he hung up before he finished dialing the number. He passed the afternoon in a state of dread, anticipating Sarah’s cool anger and Jessie’s anguish.

  But when he opened the door to the apartment that evening, Jessie greeted him giddy with excitement.

  “She said okay, Daddy! She said okay! Sarah’s gonna come!”

  Len looked up to see Sarah standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Emma in her arms. She smiled at him ruefully.

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to disappoint her either.” Then she narrowed her eyes at him. “But don’t you dare pull something like this again.”

  Len’s heart quickened. He looked away, feeling scolded again.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He heard Sarah’s sudden laughter and dared to look up again.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You don’t have to look so chastised.”

  He grinned. “I can’t help it. You’re so . . .”

  “I’m so what?”

  “So . . . fierce.”

  She laughed again. “Am I?”

  Jessie was watching them. “What does fierce mean, Daddy?”

  Len leaned down and hugged her. “Fierce, you know. Like a lion.” He raised both hands, curled his fingers, and gave a roar.

  Jessie looked at
Sarah, puzzled. “Sarah’s not fierce.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said, winking at his daughter, his heart suddenly soaring.

  “You’re not fierce, are you?” Jessie said, turning to Sarah seriously. “You’re nice. Like a . . . like a rabbit.”

  “Thanks, Jessie,” Sarah said. “Your father’s just . . .” She trailed off, her grin fading.

  “I’m just joking, Jess,” Len said quickly, finishing Sarah’s sentence before she could. Because he knew suddenly what she had been thinking: “Your father’s just flirting.”

  Sarah was right—again. He had been flirting, or something like it. In an instant, Len understood. It was like one of those rare summer days in Arcata when the sun burns through the mist and the sky is so deeply blue that it is almost impossible to picture the fog that has shrouded everything only moments before. The sun is a refulgent orb in a brilliant sky, and everything sparkles and is clear.

  Len watched Sarah gather up her things, and it was as if he saw her clearly for the first time. Whereas before he had seen only her calm efficiency, now he saw each movement as one of grace. He took in her slim waist and slender limbs, the firm curve of her breasts beneath her shirt. How had he not noticed how beautiful she was? When she passed Emma to him, his fingers brushed the bare skin on her arm. It was warm and smooth and, as they said goodbye, he had to suppress the impulse to reach out and touch her arm again, just to feel how soft she was.

  CHAPTER 17

  Len

  It was awkward, standing in line at the zoo’s entrance the next morning. Sarah stood a little apart from them, not speaking, with her bag slung over one shoulder. Len didn’t know what to say.

  “You could put that in the stroller, if you want,” he said at last, just to say something. “Then you wouldn’t have to carry it.”

  “I’m fine.” Sarah glanced at the stroller. It was the flimsy umbrella kind, and Emma was inside; there was nowhere to put a bag.

  “You could hang it here,” he said, tapping the hooked handles.

  “Really, I’m fine,” she said. “It’s not heavy.”

  They both watched Jessie, then, who was hopping from foot to foot impatiently. “When are we going to get in?”

  Inside the stroller, Emma began to squirm unhappily, and both Len and Sarah bent down to her at the same time, their heads almost colliding.

  “Sorry,” Sarah said, straightening.

  Len undid the stroller strap and lifted Emma out and onto his hip.

  “Today, Sarah, you’re off the clock. You don’t have to lift a finger.” Len laughed nervously and heat rose to his face. He sounded so grand—like a lord deigning to give his servant the day off.

  Suddenly, the line moved, and Jessie rushed into the empty space that opened before them. “Come on, Daddy,” she said.

  But with Emma on his hip, Len had only one hand for the stroller. When he tried to push it forward, it tottered on two wheels. He looked at Sarah helplessly; she stood watching him with her hands on her hips, her eyes glinting.

  “Yes?”

  “Um, would you mind . . . ?”

  “Lifting a finger?” she finished, and then they both laughed, Len laughing and blushing both, but his heart was soaring again, at the way she didn’t shy from meeting his eye, and the delicious timbre of her laughter.

  “Daddy, stop laughing and come on,” Jessie said.

  After that, the awkwardness was gone. Inside the zoo, there was nothing to do but keep up with Jessie, who rushed excitedly from one exhibit to the next, searching hard for whatever animal was inside before saying, “Let’s see another animal!” and dashing off again. Len carried Emma, so that he could hold her up to see, and Sarah pushed the stroller. She had put her bag, at last, into the seat.

  Len had thought Emma would be too young to appreciate the zoo, but he had been wrong. Each time she saw an animal, she squealed with delight, and watching her reaction, it was impossible not to smile, too. And so the day passed, the girls grinning about the animals, and Len and Sarah grinning about the girls, so that by lunchtime Len’s cheeks felt sore from smiling.

  They found a shady spot on a bench near the river otters, and Len brought out the peanut butter sandwiches and apples that he had packed.

  “Sandwich?” he said, offering one to Sarah, but she had brought her own. It was wrapped in aluminum foil, and as she unwrapped it, Len eyed it longingly. The bread looked crusty and wholesome; he could see the frilly edges of lettuce between the slices, a bit of something red—tomato, perhaps, or pepper.

  “Would you like some?” Sarah said, holding the sandwich out to him, her eyes gleaming; she was laughing at him again.

  Len grinned. “No, thanks. I’m good with this.” He raised the peanut butter sandwich at her. “Do you want a bite?”

  Sarah made a face. “No, thank you. I can’t stand peanut butter.”

  “Don’t like peanut butter? Jess, can you believe it? Sarah doesn’t like peanut butter.”

  Jessie looked at Sarah with concern. “But it’s good.”

  “Well, I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t think we would survive without peanut butter,” Len said. He handed a piece of sandwich to Emma.

  Sarah ate only two-thirds of her sandwich. Then she wrapped it loosely in the foil again and handed it to Len.

  “Here you go, Dr. Walters,” she said. “I saw you eyeing it.”

  He blushed. “I wasn’t.”

  “You were. And it’s okay. I’m not going to eat it all anyway.”

  Len took the remains of the sandwich guiltily, but he couldn’t resist. It was turkey, with a smoky cheese he didn’t recognize, and tomato. He finished it in three bites and immediately regretted that it was gone.

  After lunch, Len changed Emma’s diaper, and Sarah checked the schedule; if they hurried, they could just make it to the sea lion show. They walked quickly to the small amphitheater, but when Len bent to retrieve Emma, he saw that she was already asleep. So they sat at the end of the first row, with the stroller parked beside them on the pavement. Jessie had slid onto the bleachers first, so Sarah had no choice but to sit next to Len.

  The show began, but Len could not keep his eyes on the stage. He kept glancing down at Sarah’s bare arm beside him. It was smooth, almost hairless, her skin the color of tea with cream. It was impossible to stop his gaze. Just beyond the arc of her biceps was the line of her green halter top, not low exactly, but low enough that he could see the golden slope of her chest, the soft ridges of her collarbones. Len’s mouth went dry; with an effort he tore his eyes away.

  “You there! In the green top. Come on up and give us a hand.”

  Len started, feeling caught out; blood rushed to his face. But the announcer was looking not at him but at Sarah, smiling his show-business smile and beckoning her to the front of the crowd.

  Beside him, Sarah laughed as everyone in the audience turned to look at her.

  “No,” she mouthed toward the stage, shaking her head.

  Len nudged her with his elbow. “Go ahead. Go on up there.”

  But the next moment it was clear that her reluctance was all part of the show. The announcer had counted on it.

  “Give her a little encouragement, Archie,” he said. The trainer made a gesture with his hand, and the sea lion leaned to one side and moved his flipper, as if beckoning her, too. The crowd laughed, and so did Sarah. Jessie bounced in her seat excitedly.

  “Go on, Sarah! Go! Archie wants you to!”

  Smiling, Sarah climbed off the bleacher and went to stand by the sea lion, where the trainer said something to her quietly and the announcer told the audience to get their cameras ready.

  At a signal from the trainer, Archie stretched out his sleek neck and held his whiskered snout against Sarah’s cheek. All over the stands, cameras flashed. Sarah didn’t flinch, but when the kiss was over, she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. The trainer tossed Archie a fish.

  “Gives new meaning to morning breath
, doesn’t it?” the announcer joked, and everyone laughed.

  When Sarah came back to her seat, Jessie was green with envy.

  “I want the sea lion to kiss me,” she said. “What did it feel like?”

  “Wet,” Sarah said. “And fishy.”

  Len grinned. He had no camera, but it didn’t matter. He would never forget this day.

  There was, in fact, a camel ride, much to Len’s relief. They did that next, while Emma still slept.

  “But she’ll miss it,” Jessie said, looking at her sleeping sister with concern. “Let’s wake her up.”

  “Oh no you don’t,” Len said, intercepting her. “She’s too little to ride the camel. It’s just for big girls.”

  So Jessie rode the camel without her sister, but with three other children. Since she was the smallest, she got to be in front. Her short legs stuck out almost horizontally on either side of the camel’s back. She let her body sway exaggeratedly from side to side as the camel lumbered around the ring. When she passed where he and Sarah stood watching, she beamed down at them.

  Len heard Sarah make a noise beside him, an almost inaudible hum of appreciation. He glanced down at her and saw her smiling, and something quickened in him. Without thinking, he reached out and took her hand. He held it for just a moment, surprised by how light and cool it was. A moment later, she gently took it back from him, but he was not sorry he had done it. She smiled at him kindly as she did it, and he smiled back sheepishly, feeling that he had taken something from her that she had not offered. But, for once, he did not blush.

  CHAPTER 18

  Len

  How different it felt after that day. Len could barely wait to see Sarah every afternoon, and he sensed that she knew it. She smiled at him as his eyes followed her around the room. Whenever he asked her if she could stay, just for a minute, just for one glass of wine, she shook her head, but she wasn’t cruel about it.

  Len wasn’t oblivious to the pattern of her refusals, but he pretended to be. Even knowing what her response would be, he asked anyway, because he even liked how she refused him, shaking her head just slightly, her eyes kind. And then, one Thursday evening, when he had invited her to dinner for the umpteenth time, she lifted the lid of the pot on the stove and sniffed at it appraisingly. Len held his breath.