One Small Thing (21 page)

“I have my own room here,” Daniel said, leading them down the hall. “I was supposed to share, but I have my own room.” He turned to Avery and Dan, his legs apart, his face turned up. “Do I have my own room at your house? Am I near you? Where will I be?”

“We’ve got a room all ready for you,” Dan said, leaning over, trying to look into Daniel’s eyes. “It’s just down the hall from our room. Kind of like how all the bedrooms are here.”

“But much bigger,” Avery said. She brought her hand to her mouth and turned around, glad that Liza and Martin weren’t behind them.

“Bigger than like this?” Daniel asked. “This house is way big.”

“Oh, much,” Avery said. The dark walls seemed to close in around her. Liza and Martin needed a skylight in here, or something to give her space. She felt like Alice following the rabbit down hallways, both searching for the way out. “Can we go in?”

Daniel nodded and pushed open the door. The room was obviously cleaned for the visit—the bedspread tucked tight, the board games, plastic action figures, and comic books arranged in neat piles on the dresser—and Daniel stood in the middle of the carpet, his tiny arms at his sides. “This is my room.”

Dan walked over to the dresser and began asking Daniel about his toys. Avery closed her eyes and breathed from her center, or the center she imagined, never having quite found it despite the yoga teacher’s coaching. But after a few breaths, her heart began to beat like it ten minutes after kick-boxing class, one two, one, one two, one, one, one.

She walked over to the desk and sat in the wooden chair, looking up at the mirror that hung on the wall. A black and white photograph of the blonde actress in the show
Friends
was taped to the right corner.

“You like her?” she asked, turning to Daniel.

He shrugged. “Yeah. . I want to meet her. I want to go to the show. But I don’t want to marry her or anything”

“Oh, well that’s good. She’s already married to one of my favorite actors.”

Dan shook his head. Why? Did he think Daniel had had enough disappointment, too much for him to know the pretty actress was married to an even prettier actor? He’d better, get used to it, Avery thought. Everyone had to. She looked up at Daniel, who was pulling on a lock of hair above his left ear. When he dropped his hand, the tuft stuck out straight. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” Daniel said, pressing his lips together. “I don’t think about that stuff. That’s what girls think about.”

Avery turned back and noticed an open math book on the desk, the problems completed in pencil right on the pages. Vince Bausch and Midori had both said Daniel had learning “issues,” but here were all the problems done correctly, at least as far as she could remember. “You seem to like math, too.”

“Math makes sense,” Daniel said, his dark eyes on her, and she nodded. Work was the only thing that made sense to her now. Keeping busy. Problems A, B, and C solved by six pm, and then they could celebrate at Andrés for one or two or three hours.

“So do you want to go get an ice cream?” Dan asked.

“No.” Daniel sat on his bed, crossing his arms, his mouth pulled down. “Liza says I’m not supposed to have sugar.”

“A hamburger then? We could walk right down to McDonald’s.” Dan leaned over, his eyes wide. Avery felt the nausea creep back up her throat.

“No.”

Standing up, Avery walked past the bookshelf and stood in front of the closet. “What do you want to do then?” she asked.

“I want—I want to go home with you now.”

Avery looked at Dan, her eyes wide now, and shook her head, slightly. Dan stood up straight, his hands nervous fish dangling at the ends of his arms. “Well, Daniel, um, I think we have to wait for some paperwork to go through. There’s some legal matters. Official stuff, you know?”

Daniel pulled harder on the lock of hair. “But Midori said the test meant you were my father. If you’re my father, then you can take me home. I lived with my mother. She was my mother in the real way. I didn’t have to wait for that.”

Dan seemed to think about what Daniel was saying, and Avery wanted to run to him, lean on his shoulder, say things like, “I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’ll quit my job. Just come home. Leave him here for now. Please?” She thought about the long drive back to the house, the words she could use to fix this, to stop this boy from changing everything. But then she closed her eyes. Daniel hadn’t done a thing wrong. He didn’t deserve anything that had happened to him. If Avery was going to drive away from anyone, it should be Dan.

“Do you like it here?” Dan asked. “You do like your room.”

“I’m going to leave anyway, right?” Daniel’s lock of hair stood out from his head like a horn. “I’m going to come live with you, right?” He looked at Avery, his Randi eyes full of water. He wiped at his face quickly, as if they wouldn’t notice, crossing his skinny arms across his chest.

“Of course you are,” Dan said, leaning down again and putting a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “You’re my . . . son.”

“Then I want to go now.”

Avery pushed back against the closet door. It was happening. Life was cracking clean open and changing in front of her. But before, she tried not to notice it. The morning came, and she’d get up, her list of activities clear and solid, while even all around her people turned on others that they’d adored the day before, scientists made discoveries, men and women fell in love. In this room, though, like in the hospital waiting room with Mara and Loren, she could feel it. No matter what she did, the earth turned toward the sun and poof it was daylight. Poof! Here was her stepson, and she could feel him in the back seat of the Lexus as if they were all driving up Highway 99 right now.

It wasn’t this moment, but the living afterward that would hurt. It was all the time from this second that would twist her life into another shape. A flare lit in her chest, small but angry. She hated Dan for doing this to her, even if it wasn’t his fault. Even if he had no choice.

“I’ll go talk to Midori,” she said. Before she turned to the door, she saw Dan reach for Daniel, pull him close, take his small bones into his man body and hug him. As she walked down the hall, she wept for Daniel. For Dan. Maybe even for Randi. For herself and her father, for the hug she wanted from a ghost.

TWO

EIGHT

At his second appointment with Bret Parish, Dan sat silent for long moments. Bret asked questions, and Dan mumbled out short sentences, “Yes. I think so,” or “No. Not yet.” Strangely, he’d felt pushed to this appointment, desperate to have all this feeling inside him uncorked, but now, Bret looking up at him with wide, interested eyes, Dan had nothing to say.

“So, Avery’s not happy? You said ‘think so.’” Bret tapped his pencil on his yellow legal pad.

“It’s hard to tell.”

“And Daniel has been home how many days?”

“Eight. The first day was theoretically a visit. They couldn’t just give him to me. To us. But Midori pushed everything through the following Monday, and he’s home.” Dan was almost panting, this sentence requiring too much air.

“And Avery’s back at work.”

“Yes.”

“And you took that paternity leave? Like we discussed.”

“Yes,” Dan said. On Daniel’s first day home, Dan had called Isabel after Avery had left the house and asked her to come over to baby-sit. Then he’d driven to work and sat down with Steve and told him the whole story, beginning to end. Afterward, he’d requested his six weeks of paid paternity leave, a benefit he’d never really considered using, not even when Avery was trying so hard to conceive. So he wasn’t surprised when Avery stared at him, her mouth open slightly, her face reddening, when he told her what he’d done.

“What?” she’d said. “No one really takes that.”

“I have to. Who’s going to take care of Daniel if I don’t? I’ll have enough time to get him ready for school and then keep an eye out the first few days of school if there’s trouble. It’s the perfect solution.”

Avery shook her head, her lip trembling. “I suppose you think I should stay home. That’s what you wanted. I told you I wouldn’t!”

Dan had looked over his shoulder, not wanting Daniel to hear any of this. Lowering his voice in hopes that Avery would get the hint, he said, “I know. I’m not saying you should now. But I am.”

“But what will they think of you at work?” Avery said just as loudly. “I know they give paternity leave, but no one on track takes it. You’ll never get that promotion. Steve will definitely give it to someone else.”

“I don’t care,” he’d said. “Not now.”

“And,” she said, almost snorting. “You told him about everything? What were you thinking? How could you let Steve know what happened?”

“I had to, Avery. I can’t pretend any more. It’s too late for that.”

Avery pushed her hair away from her face, pulling it back in an imaginary ponytail, and then let it fall back to her shoulders. She tapped the kitchen counter with her fingers. “I’m not Mother Teresa, Dan.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“Yes you do. You want me to be someone else! Someone who’s nice. I’m not nice, Dan. You don’t see me adopting twenty special needs kids, do you? I don’t know what you want from me.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“I’m not the kind of person who can do this! You’re not the kind of person who should be on paternity leave. You weren’t going to take it when we were going to have a real kid. Our kid.”

Avery crossed her arms, pressing against her chest, tears in her eyes. They had stared at each other until they heard the footsteps, the soft, small kind trying not to be heard. The kind going backwards, away from what was painful.

“Shit,” Avery said. She glared at him, her eyes the blue of the fake frozen block at the bottom of the Igloo cooler. “I’m going to bed.” She brushed by him and went to their room. Dan breathed in, his lungs so heavy they felt wet, and then went to go find Daniel. But when he got there, Daniel was under the blankets, the Spiderman nightlight on, his breathing slow and steady.
He knows how to pretend
, thought Dan.
He’s just like me
.

Dan crossed his right leg, his ankle hard on his left knee. He looked at Bret and sighed. It seemed to him that therapy would take forever. Two visits weren’t enough to get at all the stories, the ones involving Randi, his parents, Avery, and now Daniel. Midori was right to send him here, but maybe this wouldn’t work. Maybe he wouldn’t come back. He didn’t have time. If it weren’t for Isabel and Valerie watching Daniel for him, he wouldn’t be here now.

“So do you like being home?” Bret asked. Dan blinked, surprised by this easy question.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been able to talk with Daniel a lot. He’s told me stories.”

“About what?”

“About his life. About Randi. What her life was like after—after me.”

“How does it feel to hear those stories?” Bret tapped his pencil a bit harder, onetwo, onetwo. The fountain outside spilled water onto rocks. Dan closed his eyes for a second, opening them to find Randi on the couch against the far wall, her legs crossed, one swinging a purple leather high heel sandal.

“Tell him,” she said. “Come on, big guy.”

Dan cleared his throat. “Daniel told me that at the end of the month when they ran out of money, Randi would go at night to a peach orchard, pick a basket, and then sell them on her corner. Made a sign and everything.”

“Tell him what I bought with the money, Danny,” she said, rubbing her hands over her black nylons, adjusting her sandal strap.

“Daniel said she would buy him a bag of candy and a hamburger at Burger King.”

“Is that all she bought?”

Dan looked at the couch, but Randi wouldn’t look up. She clacked her gum and pulled a dark curl with her forefinger.

“He said she also would buy drugs. Even when she was really sick. It turns out she died of pancreatitis and something with her liver. I didn’t even know what that was. Daniel said she was yellow at the end.”

“For crying out loud, Danny.” Randi stood up and adjusted her leather skirt. “Did you have to tell him that? Jee-sus. I’m outta here.”

“How does Daniel feel talking about his mother?”

Dan watched as Randi tippled to the door in her high heels, her shoulders white and smooth in her skinny-strapped shirt. “You better change your tune, Danny. Or I’m not coming back.” The door opened and slammed. Dan jumped.

“Dan?” Bret stared, looking over his shoulder.

“He tells me at bed time. When he’s tired. Sometimes he cries. During the day he’s pretty quiet. He watches everyone. Even me. I keep thinking he imagines it’s all going to disappear. I don’t know what will happen when he goes to school.”

Bret glanced at the clock on the shelf behind Dan’s head. “How do you feel when he tells you about Randi?”

Breathing in deeply, Dan could still smell Randi’s Charlie perfume, the amber, fruity smell of the Long’s Drugs aisle where she would slip boxes of cologne, perfume, and after bath splash into her coat pockets. An ache of old tears pulled at his throat. “Not good. I just left her, Bret. She was on her own. I didn’t even call. How can I tell my son that? How can I tell him that his mother died because of me?”