One Small Thing (23 page)

“Avery,” he said now, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “Where have you been?”

“I told you. I had a meeting.” She unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor.

“I know. But it’s 11.”

He heard the tiny metal click of her bra coming off, and then she opened a drawer, pulling out a nightgown. “Look, it was business, okay? I had to go out with Brody. This is an important account. I told you that. I might have to go back to St. Louis in a few weeks. We’ve had some trouble with the system applications.”

Dan rubbed his eyes, liking the pressure, the push of his fingers. Then he sighed and opened his eyes wife, trying to see as much as he could Avery’s eyes were reflecting what little light was in the room. She blinked, and the shiny reflection disappeared for an instant. “But Daniel starts school in a pretty soon. We’re going to have all those meetings with his teacher and the principal. That IEP Vince was telling us about. I hope you’ll be there. It’s really important.”

Avery shook her head, her hair whishing against her nightgown. “Dan, you’re home. You’re on paternity leave. I don’t think we both need to be there. Think of all the school meetings that only mothers go to. Especially in Monte Veda. I don’t think they’ll even miss me.”

“I’ll miss you. I do miss you,” Dan said, his voice catching. He closed his eyes and bent his head.

Avery didn’t say a word, but she sat down in the chair opposite the bed. They sat in silence in the dark, the only noise the whoosh and splash of the pool cleaner outside. When he and Avery were first going out, Isabel had taken him to her old room and shown him all of Avery’s swimming awards, medals and trophies and certificates. There were years of team pictures on the walls, Avery always in the center, other kids leaning into her. Walt had built a case for her in her room, and Isabel hadn’t had the heart to take anything down. “She swam like a fish,” Isabel had said. “She was the most beautiful thing in the water. But she quit after her dad died.”

Daniel didn’t even know how to swim, and Dan had hoped that Avery might teach him. He’d pictured the entire scene, the way Avery would hold his son in the water, showing him how to float on his back and then his stomach, teaching him how to blow bubbles and then turn his head to breathe. But since the phone call, no one had been in the pool, the cleaner sweeping all day and night for no reason at all.

Avery was silent, her arms still at her sides. She breathed like someone trying not to be found. Caught.

“He thinks you’re mad. At him.”

“Who?”

Dan hit the quilt with his hand. “Who? Daniel, for God’s sake.”

Avery was quiet again and then she sighed. “He’s not really my deal, Dan. You’re home. I’m working. I’m not mad at him . . . I’m just not here.”

“You aren’t here. Not even when you are actually here. Like now. You never talk to him unless it’s like ‘The glasses are in the cupboard over the sink.’ You haven’t even tried.”

Avery stood up. “Do we have to do this right now? I have to get up in the morning.”

“When should we do this, Avery? When should we start living again? Are you ever going to get over this? I know I screwed up and your whole life is changed, but you are being so selfish. Such a baby!” Dan realized he was yelling and stopped. He didn’t want Daniel to hear another fight.

“Right,” she said. “I’m being selfish. Who just went ahead and did what he wanted? Did I really ever have a say in anything? And I mean the little stuff. Did you ask me about his room? No, I come over and the neighbors and my mother are here. Do you ask me about appointments with teachers? No, you just tell me.”

Dan pushed away the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. “What do you think I’m going to do? Wait for you to snap out of it? Meanwhile, a kid has his entire life ripped open. And I’m supposed to wait for you? That’s great, Avery. Real adult of you.”

Avery stared at him, silent, her mouth pressed tight. Dan’s chest fluttered, his stomach making small gurgling noises. He wanted to run over and grab her, pull her to him, hold her tight, make her change back. If he held her tight enough, he might find the bones of his wife somewhere in this strange woman standing in front of him.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Avery said finally.

“What?” Dan felt the panic in his voice.

“You. Us. Him.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, not needing to know any more. He wanted the whole conversation to stop, the night to rewind. He would go back to where he woke up and heard her tired coming home sounds. He wouldn’t say a thing. He’d let the days pass dry and silent as they had been.

“I don’t know—I don’t know if I can stay.”

“Are you—what are you saying?”

“I don’t know if I love you any more. I don’t know if I love you enough now to live like this. To live without everything I’ve always wanted.”

Dan closed his eyes against her words, trying to read into the cracked, strangled words she’d said. If it was so hard to say, she must not mean it. If it made her cry, she could change her mind. He imagined that when he opened her eyes, she would be moving toward him, her arms wide. He breathed out and in, his heart pounding in his throat, head, stomach. When he did finally open his eyes, Avery had already gone into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, a slit of light fanning out into the silent bedroom.



Dan hung out the phone and looked into the family room where Daniel sat on the carpet watching a cartoon about a sponge who wore pants. Before Dan had called Steve, he’d stood over Daniel, listening to the exaggerated voices. When Jared and he were little, they watched
Popeye, Looney Tunes, Scooby Doo, Captain America
, and the
Flintstones
. All of those shoes now seemed more entertaining than this sponge, but then he realized that talking rabbits and dogs and literate cave people and a sailor morphed by spinach were probably just as strange.

Daniel laughed at something the sponge said, and Dan leaned his elbows on the counter. Steve had been encouraging, telling him “It’s fine here. Don’t worry. When you come back in three weeks, it will be like you never left. It will be like nothing happened.”

But how could Dan ever feel that the weeks since July Fourth had never happened? Since then, his life had felt as crazy as the sponge’s, all bright colors and loud voices.

The doorbell rang, and Daniel turned back to him, his face white and tight. He stood up and pulled at a lock of hair. “Who is it?” he asked.

Dan walked around the counter and into the family room. “Don’t worry. It’s Luis. We’re going to walk down to the park with him and Tomás. Go ahead and watch your show while I get the door.”

But as Dan walked down the hall, he realized that Daniel was following right behind him, matching his strides, staying as close to Dan as a high-noon shadow.

“Hey, man,” Luis said. Tomás was strapped to him in the Baby Bjorn, a big smile on his face.

“Come on in. I’m going to get this guy a hat and some sunscreen.” One afternoon while they were all hanging out in the front yards, Valerie had given Dan a lecture about childhood sunburn. “And Daniel is so fair. One good burn, and who knows what could happen when he’s an adult. You know, melanoma.” Tomás was so little, Valerie seemed to think she could control his life, keep danger at bay, make the outcome perfect. Dan had sighed and looked at his son. It was too late to chart a perfect life for him. Too much had happened. Sunscreen was the least of their worries.

Luis nodded. “Don’t even begin to think that this guy doesn’t have sunscreen rubbed on every exposed millimeter.”

They walked down the hall, and Luis put his hand on Daniel’s head. “So,
mi’jo
, how do you like it here so far?”

Daniel nodded without saying anything. Dan looked up at Luis and shrugged. “Come on, Daniel. Let’s get you ready.”

In the bathroom, Dan kneeled before his son, rubbing Banana Boat 45 into Daniels’s white, freckled skin. Daniel stared at him and then swallowed hard. “What—what do you mean get ready?”

Dan squirted another creamy dollop into his hand and worked it into his son’s forehead. “For the park.”

“Oh.”

Clicking the lid closed he looked at Daniel. “What did you think I meant?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do? What did you think I meant? I told you we were going to the park with Luis, didn’t I?”

Dan stood up and put the lotion away in the cabinet. He looked into the mirror and saw his son, small, downcast, his face slightly white. A little ghost.

“Daniel?”

“What?”

“Did you think I was going to take you somewhere else?”

Daniel shrugged.

“Daniel?”

“I don’t know, okay?”

Washing his hands slowly, looking at his fingers, Dan breathed out. Bret and Daniel’s therapist Jane Bissell had both told him that Daniel would worry about being moved again, about being abandoned, stranded, lost. So Dan tried to make their every move known and explained, but it hadn’t seemed to help. In the grocery store, Daniel wouldn’t let him out of his sight, holding onto the cart like a toddler. If he’d been smaller or had less pride, Dan bet that his son would ask to sit in the little seat, able to watch Dan’s eyes, touch his hands, keep him in one clear place. And even though Dan knew why Daniel was acting like this, he began to get irritated.
Settle in
, he thought.
Believe it. Believe me
. He tried not to let his feelings show.

Turning back from the mirror, he relaxed. Daniel wouldn’t look at him, his soft brown hair shining in the bright bathroom light. Dan knelt down again, almost gasping when Daniel looked up at him with Randi’s face.

“He’s just a friggin’ kid,” Randi would say. “For crying out loud. Don’t be like your asshole dad.”

“Don’t worry, Daniel.” Dan put a hand on either small shoulder. She was right. Bill would have said, “Buck up, soldier” or “Get it together dim bulb,” impatient with emotions he couldn’t control. Had Bill ever knelt in front of Dan like this, his hands saying what his voice could not?
Everything will be fine.

“It’s going to be a good day, I promise.” Dan squeezed Daniel a bit, feeling his son’s heartbeat through his shoulders, his tears in the tenseness of his skin. “We can play with the Frisbees I bought. It’ll be fun.”

Daniel stared at him and then finally nodded slightly, his eyes full.

At Monte Veda Park, Daniel sat on a swing, not wanting to be pushed. Dan thought he was probably afraid of heights and also afraid of having to admit that. Nearby, a group of other ten- and eleven-year-olds threw a Nerf football around, rolling on top of each other whenever the ball fell to the grass, laughing and playfully hitting each other in the shoulders, arms, stomach. A group of mothers with infants and toddlers sat on the half-moon rock wall, chatting as their children dug in the sand. One looked over at Dan a few times, and Luis poked him with his elbow. They sat in front of the baby swings, Tomás just able to sit in one while propped a little with a blanket. His wide brown eyes tracked clouds and birds and trees.

“Hey, man. You’ve got a friend. Check that blonde out. She’s giving you the high sign. She wants you.”

Dan looked and the blonde woman turned away and cooed at her baby who was sitting on the sand, beating it with a large plastic shovel. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll be back on the market soon,” he said, trying to joke. The words were ashy on his tongue, and he wanted to weep. Daniel looked at him, and Dan hoped he hadn’t heard what he’d just said.

“What are you saying, man? What’s going on? I thought she was okay with the whole plan. I mean, shit, it’s clear she’s not thrilled. But she seemed fine.” Luis gave Tomás a little push, and Tomás smiled, a swirl of iridescent drool at the corner of his mouth.

“She said she might leave,” Dan whispered. Daniel blinked, one, two, stared at him, reading his lips. “Try the climbing structure,” Dan yelled out. “Look at that bridge on the lower level.”

Daniel turned to look and got off the swing, walking slowly to the plastic and wood structure. He put a small hand on it, as if he could test its safety by touch.

“What?” Luis said loudly. Daniel turned around, and then Luis said more quietly, “When did she say that?”

“A couple of days ago. She came home late from some meeting with her boss and some Dirland Accounting big shot, and we got into it. She’s working late, not paying attention to what’s going on, so I knew she was angry about the whole thing. But then she said that she didn’t know if she could life like this. With Daniel. With me.”

Luis shook his head. “Shit, man. I didn’t know she could be like that.”

“It’s been really hard for her,” Dan said.

“Oh, I know,” Luis said quickly. “It’s just the Avery I knew . . . know could have taken it on. I’m surprised, that’s all, man.”

Sighing, Dan watched Daniel take tentative steps onto the structure, walking as if he were on the moon, the first person to set foot on such a landscape. What had Randi done with him? Why didn’t he know how to throw a football or interact with kids his age? Had she sat in her apartment his entire life and hope that he would turn out normal? Did she ship him off to school, hoping, as Luis always claimed of all parents, that the teachers would pick up the slack? But how could he, Dan realized, complain? Where had he been, the man, the father, who should have taught his son to throw and swing and run? It was just as much his fault as hers.