Living with Jackie Chan (25 page)

“I will.”

We turn to go.

“Hey,” Stella says before we shut the door. She hobbles forward and gives me a hug. She feels surprisingly tiny as my arms go around her. It’s only for a second, but it’s enough to know just how small she is. But muscular. Strong.

When we pull apart, she smiles at me in her old way, before things got crazy. My heart melts the same way it used to. But then she turns away.

“C’mon,” Larry says, and drags me out of the room.

I follow him back through the apartment and realize why it’s so empty. Because Stella’s mom believes it’s temporary. She believes she’ll marry someone, maybe Calvin, who will take her away from this place. This life. Maybe that’s what Stella believed about Britt. Until today. I wonder if she believes she can still escape without him.

“You think she’ll be OK alone in there?” I whisper. “Maybe we should have her stay with us.”

Larry winks at me. “You’d like that, huh?”

“Shut up, Lar. You know what I mean.”

“She’ll be all right. Stella’s a survivor. If she thought she needed to stay with us, she would have said.”

“Still. It must suck to be alone all the time.”

“I bet that’s why she offers to babysit Benny so much.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

We walk to the end of the hall and take the stairs instead of the elevator. But instead of going down, Larry goes up.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Just follow me.”

I shrug and follow him up the stairs until we go beyond what I thought was the top floor. We reach a door that opens up to the rooftop and step out into the warm summer-night air. The tar-covered roof radiates heat as we cross to a few ratty-looking lawn chairs. Beyond us, the neighborhood lights cast a hazy glow.

Larry pulls the chairs closer together. “Take a seat,” he says.

We both sit, facing the neighborhood and beyond.

“Come here often?” I ask.

“Not so much. But sometimes.” He stretches his arms out. “I like how open it feels up here.”

I lean back in the chair and look up where there should be stars. “It’s nice,” I say.

“Yeah.” Larry’s quiet for a while. We listen to the traffic and the occasional dog barking.

“I’m worried about Stella,” he finally says. “I wish her mom would step up and be around for her. Especially now.”

“Me, too.”

“And I’m worried about you.” He reaches over and squeezes my arm, then lets go. “I wish I could be more like Mr. Han, you know? I wish I could teach you both some real survival skills.”

“Mr. Han?” I ask.

“From
The Karate Kid.
You know. Jackie Chan.”

“I like to practice nonviolence,” I tell him. “No worries.”

“You know what I mean. You two . . . you’re great kids. But . . . you’ve got issues.”

There’s an understatement.

“I wish you didn’t. You know? I wish you weren’t carrying such heavy loads. I wish I could be Mr. Han to both of you.” He swishes his hands through the air. “Jacket on, jacket off.”

“Um, yeah. I think we would’ve both killed you if you did that to us.”

“You know what I mean,” he says, annoyed.

“Sorry. You’ve been great. I promise. Way better than Mr. Han.”

“Nah. I should’ve done more. I never thought Stell would let things go so far. Her boyfriend
ran over her foot,
for God’s sake. That’s crazy. That’s what it took for her to break up with the guy? I should have seen something like this coming.” He gets up, paces, sits back down.

“Stella really believes it was an accident,” I tell him.

“Doesn’t matter. He still did it. Because he was driving away from her.”

“True,” I say. “He really is a shit.”

“And then there’s her mom being MIA all the time, chasing after Calvin. No wonder Stella was attracted to that Britt guy. He pays more attention to her than her own mom.”

“Except that he’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, except for that.”

“But she’s getting out now. Just like me.”

Larry’s quiet for a minute. I think about my year living with Larry, which I’ve been doing a lot of lately. I think about how I haven’t had a single beer since I moved in with him. I haven’t gone out. I haven’t partied. In fact, in some ways it has been the lamest year of my life so far.

The crazy thing is, it’s also been one of the best.

“Yeah, you’re both getting out,” he finally says. “Man, everything’s gonna be so different without you two.” He stands up again. “I’m going to make your final days here the best days of your lives! I swear.”

“You’re getting married in a week, Larry. I think you should focus on your future and how those days will be the best in
your
life.”

“Oh, Sammy,” he says. “You’re a good kid.”

We look up at the sky again and listen to the traffic.

“Stella told me you held the baby today,” he says after a while. He sits down again. I swear, he cannot be still for five minutes.

“You really have to bring that up now?” I ask.

“Yup.”

I shake my head. “Yeah. I held him.”

“Are you OK?”

I remember Benny’s weight against me. How it felt good and hurt like hell at the same time.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m OK.”

He waits for me to say more, but what else is there? I’m OK. It’s enough.

“You’ve been avoiding that baby all year, and suddenly you hold him for what, two hours? And all you have to say is ‘Yeah’ and ‘I’m OK’? I know it had to be hard, Sam.”

I automatically put my hand on my chest, where the baby’s heart beat against mine.

“What are you feeling? Talk to me.”

I think for a minute. I’m not sure. “I’m feeling . . . lighter, I guess.”

“What does that mean?”

I breathe in the hot-roof smell. Search for the stars again. Fidget with the loose armrest on my lawn chair.

“I had to take him out of his stroller because he was crying, you know? And I was surprised at how heavy he was. I mean, he was really solid. He held on to me. He practiced standing up. And then he got really tired and nestled against me and went to sleep. It felt so strange to have this life, this small but heavy and warm living thing, depending on me. I’m a total stranger, but he trusted me. He just snuggled his head into my neck and fell sound asleep.”

Larry shifts in his chair. “I bet he could sense your goodness.”

I laugh. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Hey, I’m serious! Babies are real smart. They can tell if someone’s trustworthy.”

“Maybe. He did give me a long stare.”

“See?”

“Anyway. It made me think about what it must be like, you know, to be a dad. To have to do that every day. To be that responsible for someone else. For a minute, I thought,
Yeah, I could do this.
But then I realized I probably couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.”

“You did the right thing, Sammy . . . Josh.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I say. “It was never really my choice.”

“Well, I think it was for the best. What the mom did. What was her name again?”

“Ellie.”

“Ellie. That’s nice.”

I see the Ellie of my dreams when he says that. Not silently screaming. Just standing there. On the other side of the glass. Trying, like me, to get in. I wonder if she got to hold the baby — our baby — before they took him away. I wonder if she was allowed to be with him for a while. To feel the weight of his life against her the way I felt Ben’s today. I wonder if she got to feel his soft, fuzzy hair against her cheek. And I wonder which would be worse? Holding him and then letting him go? Or never knowing him at all?

“I feel different about everything after today,” I say.

“How so?”

“I’m not sure. I guess part of all the not-knowing was . . . not knowing what it would be like. What it would feel like. To hold the baby. To be responsible for it. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night and hear Ben crying above me, I wonder if my baby is crying somewhere. If he needs to be held and loved. If he’s OK. There’s this helplessness. Because I don’t know where he is. I don’t know who is taking care of him. I don’t know if he’s healthy. There’s just so much I don’t know about him. But today, when I was holding Ben, I realized one reason I was so worried was because I wouldn’t know how to take care of him myself. Today, I realized I would. Somehow, I would just know. And I thought my baby’s parents would know, too. And they must love him. How could you hold a kid like that and not love him? Not feel completely responsible?”

Larry doesn’t answer. Maybe he’s thinking that there are plenty of asshole parents in the world who don’t love their kids. Who let their kids cry through the night. I guess I know that, too. But something in my heart tells me that’s not the deal with my baby. Something tells me he’s OK. People who adopt babies do it because they want them. Right?

“I’m so glad you’re going to be my best man, Josh,” Larry says. “I’m really proud of you.” He reaches over and puts his hand on my arm.

“You’re more like him than you think,” I add. “You know that, right?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Han,” I say, as if it’s obvious. “Jackie. I mean, you took me in, just like he took that kid in. You showed me how to live again. Just like him. You showed me how to be happy. To have goals and work toward them. You showed me plenty of survival skills, Larry. You saved me.”

“Nah, you saved yourself,” he says, but I can tell by the grin on his face he’s pleased with himself.

“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” I say.

He leans back in his chair and sighs happily. “You’re a good boy, Josh. A true karate man. I’m really going to miss you.”

And since I can tell he’s all choked up, I lean back in my own chair and sigh happily, too.

We stare at the dark sky together, not needing to say anything else. Just being grateful to be here together for a little while longer, before everything changes.

That night, I wake up to the sound of Ben above me. He cries out, waits. Cries out, waits. I look up at the ceiling and wait with him. Clover chirps in her sleep at the foot of my bed when I roll over on my side. Then she stretches and walks up the bed to sniff my face and purr at me. I hold out my hand, and she rubs her head against my fingers in her usual way.

Cry out. Wait. Cry out. Wait.

How long does it take to get up and walk down the hall, for Christ’s sake?

Finally, I hear the floor creak and, a few seconds later, the familiar sound of the rocking chair, back and forth.

I didn’t realize my heart was racing again.

Now that I’m wide awake, I look around the room. The ceiling stars are faded to a faint glow. I reach for my phone and read the last set of messages I haven’t replied to.

Mom:
c u nxt wk!!!!!!


Caleb:
dave’s date 2 prom dumped him. send beer.


Dave:
I’m going stag 2 prom. YAAAAAAAAA


I realize these messages are from a couple of days ago and prom is already over. I toss the phone back on the nightstand. Prom. Man. It’s a disappointment for everyone. Except Caleb, of course, but that’s no surprise. He probably went with his girlfriend, Corinne, and got engaged or something insane.

It must suck for Stella, though, since she bought a dress and everything. I should have asked her to go with me instead. As friends. But I’m sure she’d probably say no. Who wants to hobble around in a fancy dress for prom? She wouldn’t even be able to dance. Besides, what if
Britt
showed up? I’d have to kill him or something.

The creaks above me stop, and footsteps cross the room. Then quiet. Quiet, quiet, and I know he must be asleep.

I close my eyes and listen to Clover’s purrs next to my head.

It might have been nice, though. Taking Stella to prom. Dancing with her.

But we have our own way of dancing.

And I like ours better.

Larry pokes his head through my doorway and grins so wide it looks like his mouth is going to split his face in half. “Rise and shine, Sammy! This is it! The Josh and Larry Extravaganza! Are you ready?” He is glistening in sweat but doesn’t seem to notice.

“Dude, did you shower yet?” I ask.