I Like You Just Fine When You're Not Around (31 page)

Tig replied, “It is.”

Alec shielded his eyes from the cinnamon-colored sun with his hand. He shouted to Erin Ann, who was struggling with a tiny mop of a dog, “Hang on to her, honey. Don't let go of the leash.”

Thatcher zigzagged around the girl and the puppy like a mad herding animal with a broken internal compass.

“So, how are you feeling about it all?” Alec asked.

“Like the only place I'm comfortable is over at Hope House, or with other dogs. There's no subterfuge. No agenda. They smell your crotch, hump or don't hump, and move on. If there's a half-sister or -brother nearby with questionable parentage, nobody cares. All in a day's play.”

“We could learn a lot from dogs.”

“Yeah, but we don't. Why is that?”

“They lose a lot of credibility when they eat their own poop.”

Tig nodded sagely. “Yeah, the poop-eating makes them appear far less wise.”

Neither spoke as they walked along the mulch path. Tig looked over at Alec, the very image of a man in a dad catalog. His khaki pants were worn at the pockets, but not enough to look shabby; his denim jacket was about function, not fashion; and the rip in the neck of his navy sweatshirt seemed as if it might have happened rescuing a kitten from a flowering apple tree.

Tig said, “It was a good idea, getting Erin a dog. She needs a girl to whisper her secrets to. Everyone does. Turns out my mom did. All those years she was quiet about so much. No wonder her mind is mixed up like a blended beach drink.”

“Hopefully Erin will tell me some of her secrets, even though I'm not a girl.”

“There were plenty of times when I was growing up that I wished I had a dad to talk to. I knew enough that I didn't want any old dad, though. I certainly didn't want Sarah Wumka's dad. You could tell he was terrible just by the way he called his dogs. If I could have picked a father, he would have been like you.”

Shaking his head, Alec said, “You're doing what everyone does, romanticizing the widowed dad. The sad sack who lost the love of his life. The perfect left-behind parent. Truth is, if my wife hadn't gotten sick, she probably would have left me.”

Tig stopped walking. “Oh, I'm sure that isn't true.”

“Oh, no. It's true all right. I meant well, but I was a terrible partner.”

“But you're such a good dad.”

“Whatever,” Alec said. “Before Jennifer's diagnosis, I treated her like she would always be around. I missed dinners. Went to all the Badger football games, let her take care of all the details of Erin and our lives while I worked, thinking that since I made more money, that was okay.” He coughed into his fist and swallowed. “I was always and without fail at least an hour late coming home from wherever I was.”

“That doesn't sound too terrible, and believe me, I have counseled terrible.”

He stopped walking abruptly. With a flash of anger, Alec reached out to stop Tig. “No? It's worse. It's neglect. You can divorce an abuser, a philanderer, but once you have a child, it's difficult to justify leaving someone who just blows you off, who treats you like an unvalued roommate, a servant who you want to have sex with occasionally, when you're home.”

Alec yanked the leaves off a bush and pitched them to the ground. “I'm just lucky some man didn't swoop in, take her from me.” He stopped walking and faced Tig. “God, actually, now I wish that would have happened. For her sake. I let her down, and no amount of holding her head while vomiting after chemo would fix that. I was a fucking idiot.”

“I think that helping someone through a terminal illness is love. It may be the greatest of loves. Being present when people are at their worst.” Tig felt an acute moment of sorrow for herself, realizing that this was why she could never nail her feelings down for Pete. He was there for her only during the good times, and bailed when she needed help. On some level, she had known this all along.

They walked silently for a while, contemplating the path.

“Since I'm confessing my failings,” Alec continued, “I might as well get it all out. I've got one memory that haunts me. My wife was at the kitchen sink washing Erin's hair. I was sitting behind them, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper. Jennifer was telling me something she and Erin had done the day before. When I finally dragged myself away from the paper, Jen and Erin were gone. She'd stopped talking mid-story, and I didn't notice. I didn't notice she'd just walked away.”

“I had a guy once who came in after his divorce. Just a regular guy. He'd go on and on about his marriage and how it had dissolved before his eyes. Kept saying he'd never seen it coming. Finally, one day I asked him what he had learned from the divorce, so he wouldn't make the same mistakes in a new relationship.”

“Yeah? What'd he say?”

Tig smiled slightly. “He said that when your wife says turn off the TV, you should turn off the TV.”

Alec laughed a loud painful bark of a laugh that stopped the dogs for a second before they went on to terrorize a vole. “Truer words were never spoken.”

To Alec she said, “One of my professors, when I was getting a degree, was big into compromise. Y'know, win-win and all that. I said to him, ‘Compromise means neither person gets what they want, so that's more like lose-lose—or almost-win, almost-lose. What's the word for that?'”

Alec smiled. “I don't know, but I bet Eskimos have, like, fifty words for it.”

“I'm pretty sure I didn't get an A in that class. I remember him looking at me like I was in the wrong major and should reconsider being a counselor.”

Tig looked at Alec's profile. Alec hugged Tig's shoulders with one extended brotherly arm. “You have to figure out how you feel about Pete.”

“Sadly, I've got that nailed.”

“Yeah? What's the verdict?”

“I'd give him a kidney and my old Dan Fogelberg tapes.” Smiling, she added, “But he doesn't want them.”

“The tapes?”

“None of it.”

“You know that for sure?”

“As sure as I know who my father is.”

On the way back to the car, Thatcher led the way with Erin and the puppy following behind, her step as light as popcorn popping, looking as freely happy as anything Tig had seen since a pod of dolphins in Hawaii. She did not notice a slight figure approaching her until a fawn-colored pug nosed her leg. Tig bent to pet the snorting animal.

“It's good to see you, Dr. Monahan.”

Startled, Tig found herself staring at a new and improved version of the sad Mrs. Biddle, the woman who couldn't get past the loss of her adult daughter to cancer. She still had L'Oréal jet black hair and shocking red lips, but instead of the grayish pallor and the dried crêpe skin of a cornhusk doll, she had a blush to her cheeks Tig hadn't seen before. “What a nice surprise. This must be Mug.”

In typical Mrs. Biddle fashion, she said, “I gave up smoking. I'm walking Mug instead.”

“What a great idea.”

“Julie said you might be back on the radio soon.”

“She did?”

“She said everyone needs a change sometimes.”

Tig nodded. “I needed a change. I just didn't know I needed it.”

“I didn't know it, either.” There was a self-conscious pause. She grimaced and Tig recognized her signature almost-smile.

Tig said, “It's good to see you looking so well.”

Mrs. Biddle gave a tender pull on the leash and moved away, looking over her shoulder once to check if her message had been received.

Alec, watching the interchange with interest, said to Thatcher, “Your mommy's quite a gal, Thatcher. I'm glad we're friends.” Thatcher, grateful for the adult conversation, showed her white teeth and tried to mount his knee.

Tig gazed out the window of her bedroom. The trees understood that the shorter fall days meant that the leaves need to drop, even though the weather maintained it was summer.

“I wondered where you wandered off to.”

Tig turned to face Wendy. “I came in here to get Mom's memory box for her and I got distracted by the view. Check it out.”

The two women watched while Erin, shouting encouragements, threw stick after stick for the puppy while Thatcher looked on in disdain.

Tig said, “Erin thinks she's in charge.”

Alec stood nearby, trying to get Erin to come in for lunch, comically following the dog and girl around the yard.

Wendy said, “So does Alec.”

Tig sighed and gestured to the small, muted, flat-screen television where athletes with black greased numbers on their arms and thighs grimaced in the Ironman's Hawaiian heat. “So did I.”

Wendy picked up the remote and shut off the television. “This little party was meant to keep you away from the television, away from watching that race.”

“I just wanted to see if I could catch a glimpse of Pete.”

“I doubt when they have that many hot bodies on the highway they're going to pan to a professor holding a test tube and talking about muscle cells.”

“God, I was stupid.”

“Let's go. If you're admitting to stupidity on your own, I've got to have witnesses. Besides, Mom's getting funky and tired. She's calling Alec, and Jeff is looking a little lost. Clementine needs to take a nap, and you need to cut the cake.”

“So this whole party was designed to keep me away from watching the Ironman on TV?”

“That, and to let you talk about your new radio show.”

“Jean's been amazing. She loved the idea.”

“It's a great concept. I can't believe you go live in a month.”

Tig rested her head on the cool glass of the window. “You and Clem don't have to move out, y'know.”

“Yes we do, little sister. You've got to figure out who you are without someone to take care of.”

Unconvinced, Tig said, “I guess. But what if I know who I am, and who I am is someone who likes people around . . . and if they need help, all the better.”

Wendy said, “You need counseling.”

Tig glanced out the window at the crushed velvet–like leaves hanging from the old maple in her backyard.

Wendy said, “I'm not moving to the Galapagos Islands. Van Buren Street is three blocks away. Whenever you need to meddle, you can come over and give me a lecture on the evils of pacifiers or my passive-aggressive feng shui furniture arrangements. I'll listen, give you a cookie, then send you on your way.”

“I might need a sleepover and a brownie occasionally. No nuts.”

“I need to continue figuring out how to take care of Clem, and you need to figure out how to take care of you. After we do that, we can start auditioning men for the less significant roles of partner or father.”

“I've got someone trying out for my own father role right now. I've got to make a decision about the DNA testing.”

“Not today, you don't. Come on, there's another surprise, but I'm not saying a thing until you get out there and act like a person who is happy to welcome people into her home, and feed them chips and salsa without fixing all their problems.”

“No surprises, Wen.”

Wendy grabbed Tig by the elbow. “C'mon, Scrooge; it's a good, sane surprise. This isn't the movies. Nobody's waiting for you to come crashing in just as they're about to say their wedding vows. It's just the people you know, making life better.”

Tig pulled Wendy into a hug. “It's nice having a big sister.”

Wendy said, “Everyone has to grow up sometime. I figured I better do it before Clementine.”

Jeff stood, helping Hallie get her sweater on in the living room. Hallie fretted anxiously over her doll's swaddling.

“Drive the car up, Dan. I don't want Clementine to get wet.”

Jeff, Wendy, and Tig stopped moving and looked at Hallie Monahan.

Wendy bent down in front of her. “Who, Mom?”

Exasperated, pale, and annoyed, Hallie said, “I don't want this child to catch a cold.”

Wendy pressed her mother's hands quietly and looked her in the eyes. “Who's this baby, Mom?”

“Hush, will you.” Hallie untied and retied the baby doll's bonnet. “Shhh. There,
mon ami
.”

“What's her name, Mom?”

“I haven't any idea. I need Dan. Where's Dan?”

Wendy stood and hugged her mother around the shoulders, locking eyes with Tig. “I thought maybe she'd had a moment there.”

Jeff nodded. He placed a large, soft hand on Hallie's shoulder, and that seemed to quiet her. Hallie turned and rested her cheek there, and closed her eyes. “Alzheimer's is the ultimate ‘I told you so.' It even robs time to the finish.”

Tig took them in. A tableau of love. Not the young, flawless skin of youth ever after. Not the hot passion of the soap opera, or the butterfly wings of the first kiss at prom. Amateurs, Tig thought. Turns out love looks like knowing when someone's had enough.

Just then, Erin scuttled through the door with Thatcher at her side. Alec followed them, saying, “You can have cake after you've eaten a piece of fruit.” Erin rolled her eyes dramatically, and then the threesome stopped.

Jeff said, “Before I take Hallie back, I want to tell you a couple of things. First, Hallie's going to be a baby cuddler at the hospital. There was a long waiting list, but I pulled some strings and now several times a week, Hallie is going to hold sick babies.”

On her way to the fruit bowl, Erin said, “Cool, Dr. J, Grandma Hallie loves babies.”

“The other thing is that, because of the success of your efforts to stay close to your mothers, there are going to be some changes at Hope House. I've proposed to the board a way for families to room in with their loved ones, similar to the ways that you all did. Alec and I have been working together on this, and I think we have it sorted out that some of the larger corner rooms will be equipped with sleeping arrangements for family and accommodations for pets.”