Fallout (63 page)

COOKIES IN THE OVEN

Mindless

activity finished for now,

my brain has failed me completely.

Dad and Donald are in the front

hall, shaking snow off their boots,

hats. Almost unbelievably, Donald

is laughing. A new wall goes up.

Jealousy.

Weird. Really, really weird. Why

do I feel that way? Maybe because

Dad and I haven’t talked in years,

at least not about stuff that matters.

And the last time we laughed

together? I really can’t remember.

I want

us to be close again. We were

when I was young. Then, I guess,

I made him into “the enemy,”

the one who said no to giving me

money (for weed) or borrowing

the car (to party). What I forgot was

his love.

GOD, I’M MAUDLIN TODAY

Must be all the obvious Christmas cheer,

and how it doesn’t cheer me. Mom has

always been big on making the house

look
Good Housekeeping
gorgeous.

Electric trains. Ceramic villages.

Multicolored garland and lights,

strung on banisters and door jambs.

The tree, a twelve-foot blue spruce,

is hung with ornaments collected for

almost forty years. Wreaths. Poinsettias,

in four shades and varied heights.

Candles in holiday colors, scented

cranberry and bayberry and vanilla.

And outside? Colored lights and white

icicle lights and a giant lit Santa’s sleigh.

You can see this place clear across

the valley. When I was a kid, I loved

it. Now it seems a little ostentatious.

Wonder if Mom and Dad would have

gone so all out without the boys here.

SAID BOYS

Disappear into their (my) room.

Mom vanishes into her office

to write. New book. Fantasy.

Dad decides to work on dinner,

something he often does even

when Mom is home. Chef Dad.

I sit at the table, munching cookies,

watching him season the roast.

Here is a chance to talk about

something that matters. Like?

“So, Dad …” Do I dare ask?

Oh, why the hell not? “Have

you ever cheated on Mom?”

He looks up, humor in his eyes.

Is this some sort of a test?

Do you have a hidden recorder?

That makes me smile. “No,

no. This isn’t about blackmail.

And you don’t have to answer.

I just wondered because …”

Because of what happened with Nikki?

And here I always thought Mom was

the psychic. “Uh … kinda … yes.”

He lines a baking pan with foil.

Nestles the roast inside.
I thought

that might be it. One of your listeners?

Oh my God. He
is
psychic.

“Yeah, that’s right. And I swear

I don’t even know why I did it.

But how did you know?”

Hunter, I used to be in radio
,

remember? I know how it is when

a pretty girl throws herself at you.

Good. He gets it. God, I’m glad

he’s been there, except …

“But you never got caught.”

No, Hunter. See, I never said

okay, not once I’d made a solid

commitment to your mom. I just

couldn’t take a chance on losing her.

THIS COULD TURN INTO A LECTURE

And it sort of does.

Believe me, there were

plenty of willing women.

Some really didn’t want

to take no for an answer.

I nod. Because I know.

But your mom came to me

already wounded. I had

to win her trust. Destroying

that trust was unthinkable.

Dad and the moral high road.

Even beyond my time in

radio, there have been plenty

of temptations over the years.

I’m sure for your mom, too.

Mom? Women are tempted?

But with as much as she has

to travel with her books
,

if either of us had to worry

about that, where would we be?

Has Nikki been tempted too?

We’re married, of course.

That is a stronger commitment

than living together. Although

Nikki would probably argue that.

NO DOUBT ABOUT IT

For Nikki, living together meant

every bit as much as having a piece

of paper giving us the legal right.

I still have no idea what my next

move should be. How can I make

this up to her? Dad puts the roast

into the oven. Washes some big

potatoes. Wraps them in foil.

“Do you ever wonder where

you would be if you hadn’t met

Mom? She told me once that when

you first met, your dream was

to be the next Johnny Carson….”

I didn’t know who that was, so I looked

him up. He was pretty famous back then.

“Does it bother you that you’re not

a late-night TV host? Or that Mom got

to be the famous one instead of you?”

He keeps working but laughs softly.

Hey, I’ve still got time. Seriously
,

though, sure, it’s bothered me.

But we don’t always get what

we want. I didn’t get to be a star
,

but I did get to be something

special—your mom’s husband.

And your father. Those things mean

more to me than hosting late-night TV.

“Seriously? Because sometimes

you seem resentful. Not that I blame

you. You didn’t ask for me.”

The potatoes join the roast in the oven.

You’re right. We didn’t ask for you.

But I have never resented becoming

your father. Your mom and I made

that choice willingly, with our eyes

wide open. Yes, sometimes I get mad

about things beyond my control.

Not that it’s useful or changes

anything. It’s just human nature.

Anger is a valid emotion. It’s only

bad when it takes control and makes

you do things you don’t want to do.