I closed my eyes briefly and forced myself to shove all those thoughts away. For the moment, at least. Then I said, as lightly as I could, “Turns out Duncan was just intense about whatever he happened to be into at the moment. Once he switched to something else, he just switched completely.”
“But you can’t get a girl pregnant and then just head off into the sunset,” Andrew said.
“For a while he’d call and check up on us. And he always said he’d come join us as soon as he could.” Every time the phone would ring in the months right before and then right after Noah was born, I’d run for it, hoping it was Duncan calling me to say he was coming back. I could still remember the look on my mother’s face whenever she saw me dive for the ringing phone. I couldn’t stand it—the pity and the anger and the confusion that battled in her expression, none of which she ever voiced but all of which I felt radiating from her in waves. I hated her for watching me like that, hated her for being right when she said she didn’t trust Duncan. “He kept postponing when he was actually going to come back,” I said. “Then he stopped saying he was coming back anytime soon. Then he just stopped calling.”
Andrew was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Does he help with child support?”
“I haven’t asked him to.”
“He should.”
“Well, money’s not an issue with my parents helping out.” I stared at the dog’s ears, bobbing gently in the glow from the streetlights. “And I don’t want to give him any excuse to butt into our lives. Noah’s mine now,” I added with an edge of fierceness. “Not ours. Mine.”
“The law would see it differently. I mean, legally he has rights. And obligations.”
“Believe me, I’m aware of that. You should hear my mother on the subject. If Duncan ever comes looking for us, I’ll deal with the legal stuff then. But I don’t think he will.”
“Noah might want to find him when he’s older.”
“I know,” I said shortly.
A pause. Then, “How was it?” he asked. “After Noah was born?”
“I dropped out of school, cried a lot—so did Noah, he was an awful infant, constantly crying and colicky…” I trailed off and we walked a few steps in silence. “I don’t know,” I said finally. “We survived. My parents helped. Melanie helped. It wasn’t so bad.”
“You’re lucky to have the family you do.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“And Noah’s great.”
“He’s great,” I said. “But not easy.”
“He’s still figuring stuff out. He’s going to be okay. Better than okay. I can tell.”
“How about me?” I asked, only half joking. “Can you tell about me? Am I going to be okay when I grow up?”
“I think so.” He gently knocked my elbow with his. “You might want to run around outside a little more and criticize teachers a little less.”
“Fuck you,” I said amicably.
“And watch your language. And maybe grow your hair out. But you should grow up to be a fine young lady someday.”
“Grow my hair out?” I repeated with genuine distress. “You said it suited me!”
“That’s the problem,” he said. “It does suit you. But what’s with all that? The nose stud and the tattoos and the torn jeans and all that? You come from this nice upper-middle-class home and you have a kid. You don’t exactly look like who you are.”
“Who do I look like, then?”
“I don’t know.” He considered the question for a moment, then said, “A little like the girls who used to hang out in the back alley behind my high school and smoke and scare the shit out of anyone who accidentally got in their way. Only prettier,” he added quickly. “And nicer, of course.”
“I don’t scare the shit out of you?”
“Not so much.”
We had circled around the block and were back at my house. I put my hand on the gate latch but didn’t open it. Eleanor Roosevelt watched me intently, panting, eager to get inside to her water bowl. I stared absently down at her, wondering why I was telling Andrew stuff I hadn’t told anyone else. It was because I was drunk, I thought, and the night was so dark. “I went through kind of a weird phase,” I said slowly. “A couple of years after Noah was born. I just—” I shook my head. “It was like I couldn’t believe where I was, what my life was, that I was back to living at home only now I had this kid. I had been a good girl for so long. Always getting good grades, always behaving the way I was supposed to… And suddenly all these strangers were staring at me like I had done something I should be ashamed of. So I guess I kind of felt like if people were going to stare at me because I’d had a kid too young, then I’d make them stare at me for my own reasons, on my terms—that I’d give them something to stare at. And if it made me look like those tough girls at your school, all the better. I figured I could use a little toughness.” He was silent. “Does that make any sense at all?” I said. “Or do I just sound nuts?”
“Of course it does.” He leaned against the gate, his face in shadow. “I’m sorry you’ve had it so rough.”
“This isn’t rough.” I gestured to my parents’ gracious two-story house. “Teenage mothers in Compton, they have it rough. I have it easy.”
“Okay, so maybe they have it rougher.” A pause. “Did you get a college degree?”
“No. I’m still working toward it.”
“Where?”
“I take some courses online.”
He digested that for a moment. “Do you know what you want to be when you finally graduate?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Six inches taller.”
“Seriously. Do you think about that stuff?”
“Sometimes. I think about it and then I stop thinking about it.” I wished I had a better answer to give him, that I could honestly say I was planning to do something worthwhile, that I didn’t sound like such a loser.
“Maybe you should—” A sudden burst of music cut off whatever he was about to say. “Shit, sorry.” He hesitated, then reached for his pocket. “I better just check…”
Please don’t answer it, I thought.
He checked the screen, flipped open the phone, and hesitated—then raised it to his ear. “I better get this one. I’m sorry.”
“No worries.” I unlatched the gate. Eleanor Roosevelt waggled with joy. She was always happy to leave and always happy to come home.
“Hi,” Andrew said into the phone. “Oh, that’s great… Yeah, me too… Listen, can we IM later, at the usual time? We’re all here talking and… okay. Love you. Bye.” He slipped the phone back in his pocket. I wondered why he said we were “all” here talking. It was just the two of us. Unless he was including the dog?
“We should go in,” I said, breaking the suddenly awkward silence. “There’s pie.”
“Mmm,” he said jovially. “Pie.”
I started to push the gate open, but stopped. Poor Eleanor Roosevelt, who had waited patiently up until now, nosed at it desperately, confused and eager to get inside. “I just need to tell you one last thing,” I said. “So you don’t think I’m horrible.”
“I don’t think you’re horrible. Not even close.”
“Whatever. But you have to know. I complain a lot about Noah. And if I had to do things over again, I’d probably do them differently because I made a lot of dumb choices. But that isn’t to say…” I didn’t know how to put it, but I had to say it somehow. I had to make this one thing clear. “It’s just… I do love him, you know. I did from the moment I first looked at him. No, even before that. It’s not ever about not loving him. All my complaining and moaning and wondering about the past—it’s not because I don’t want him around. I’d—” What could I say that didn’t sound stupid and sentimental? “He’s my son, you know?”
“I know,” he said. “You can tell. And not just because you almost got me fired out of concern for him. It’s just… you can tell.”
“All right, then,” I said. I unhooked the leash, and Eleanor Roosevelt dash
ed up to the house as happily as she’d dashed toward the gate a half an hour earlier.
16.
I sneaked a glance at Andrew as we came inside. I had thought I couldn’t read his expression because it was so dark outside, but even in the brightly lit foyer I didn’t have a clue what he was thinking.
I felt a little like I’d just peeled off all my skin, exposing everything that was soft and vulnerable and private underneath. It was too late to regret it.
I hung up Eleanor Roosevelt’s leash and then Mom called us into the dining room, where the others were already seated and waiting for us to eat dessert.
She’d just served us all slices of pumpkin and pecan pie when a cell phone rang.
“Sorry,” Melanie said, snatching up her phone. “Be right back.” She left the dining room, phone clutched to her ear.
“What did we do before cell phones?” my father said dryly. “Meals must have been so boring with everyone actually sitting and eating and talking to one another.” He appealed to my mother. “Am I allowed to go ahead and eat my pie or would that be considered rude?”
“Oh, go ahead,” she said, waving her hand with a resigned sigh.
Another phone buzzed audibly. Andrew gave a little uncomfortable laugh. “Sorry,” he said. “That’s me. But it’s just a text.”
“You can check it if you want,” I said. “Don’t let my dad scare you.”
He pulled the phone partially out of his pocket, glanced down at it, then pushed it back in. “It’s okay,” he said. “Just Gracie again.”
Mom’s head kind of snapped around at this. She studied Andrew for a second and then turned expressionless eyes on me.
“Can I get my own cell phone for Christmas?” Noah asked. He was shaking the can of whipped cream vigorously.
“You’re six years old,” I said. “What would you do with a cell phone?”
He upended the can over his plate and pressed against the neck so a thick ribbon of whipped cream spurted out. “Call people.”
“Who do you need to call? That’s enough whipped cream.”
He kept going with the whipped cream. “You, when you’re late picking me up.”
I snatched the can away from him and set it upright on the table. “That’s way too much. I told you to stop. And I’m almost never late.”
He picked up his spoon. “Well, you could be, if I had a cell phone.”
My father laughed. “I like his logic.”
“Don’t encourage him.”
My mother said, “Noah, pass the whipped cream to Andrew.”
“Coach Andrew,” I corrected. The last thing I needed was for Noah to start tossing around a teacher’s first name at school. Dr. Wilson would love that.
Melanie came back in.
“Everything okay?” Mom asked.
“Fine. It wasn’t the kids.” She sat down. “It was my mother.”
“Oh, we should have called her earlier!” said my mother, who had a strong—and to me inexplicable—sense of duty toward Colleen, who clearly felt that her life was sufficiently fulfilling without any additional attention from her ex-husband’s second wife. “We invited her to join us, you know, but she had other plans.”
“You’ve told Melanie that seven times,” I said. “In my hearing, anyway. Probably a few more when I wasn’t around.”
My mother cleared her throat slightly. “I’m sorry if I repeat myself sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Hey, go easy on your mother,” Andrew said. “She’s a nice lady.”
“Thank you,” Mom said to him and they shared a smile.
“I go easy on her,” I said, annoyed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t notice things.”
“So what’s next on the list of activities?” Mom said, a little too brightly. “Anyone up for a game of Scrabble?”
“And here you thought we’d be boring,” I said to Andrew.
“No, I didn’t. And Scrabble sounds like fun.” He glanced at his watch. “If I’m not overstaying my welcome.”
“Not at all. We’d be insulted if you left this early.” Mom rose to her feet. “Rickie and I will clear the table and make some decaf. The rest of you go into the family room and set up the game. We’ll be right in.”
Noah said, “I don’t want to play Scrabble. Can I watch TV?”
“No,” my mother and I said at the same moment.
In the kitchen a moment later, Mom said to me, “Get the coffee started while I load the dishwasher.”
“Yes, sir.” I gave her a mock salute.
She bent down and opened the dishwasher door. “So who’s Gracie?”
“Andrew’s girlfriend.” I eyed her warily. “Why?”
“I just didn’t know he had one. Is it serious?”
“How should I know?”
Her back was to me as she shifted steadily between the sink, where she was scraping dishes, and the dishwasher, where she was inserting them.
“And why do you care?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
I got the can of coffee grounds out of the freezer and poured some directly into the filter without bothering to measure. “If you’re trying to imply something, just say it.”
“I’m not implying anything.” She kept moving back and forth, scraping and loading, scraping and loading.
“I’d like to remind you that I didn’t invite him here tonight. You and Melanie did.”
“I know.” More scraping and loading.
I went to the sink. “I need to fill the pot.” She moved aside, keeping her wet hands suspended over the sink while I ran water into the carafe.
“You should use the filtered water,” she said.
“This is faster.”
“It makes better coffee.”
“You want to do this?” I held out the pot to her. “Be my guest.”
“Oh, for god’s sake,” she said. “I’m just giving you some advice.”
“If you’re going to ask me to do a job, don’t criticize the way I do it.”
She didn’t say anything. As I turned away, pot filled, I could see she was pressing her lips together tightly, the way she always did when I didn’t agree with every word she said.
I poured the water into the coffeemaker and punched it on. “I’m going to the family room.”
She didn’t reply.
I think all the wine I had at dinner actually helped my Scrabble game: good words seemed to come more easily. Or maybe they just seemed like good words. Because there were six of us, Melanie and I doubled up. Noah was supposedly my dad’s partner, but he mostly just sat on the sofa and yawned and fidgeted. Mom and Andrew played alone and were easily the strongest players.
“You’re kind of smart for a dumb jock,” I told Andrew after he scored forty-five points on one word.
“I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“Thank you?” I suggested.
He shot me a look.
It seemed like he was flirting with me.
Was he?
It was actually my phone that rang next. Ryan.
I said to Mel, “Go ahead and play for us.” As I put the phone to my ear and left the room, I saw that Andrew was watching me. Well, good. He had taken Gracie’s phone call. I had a right to take this one.
“Hey,” Ryan’s voice said. “Having a nice Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah.” I relaxed against the hallway wall. “You?”
“Delightful. Since Gabriel managed to escape to Hawaii, it was just me and Mom and a couple of turkey dinners from Koo Koo Roo.”
“Your mother eats turkey? And here I always thought the undead dined exclusively on blood.”
“Shut up.”
“If your brother hadn’t cheated on Melanie, you would have been here with us, you know.”
“I was going to invite you to come over, but you’re making me wonder if that’s such a good idea.”
“I can’t, anyway.” I glanced back through the doorway to the family room. Noah w
as leaning against Andrew’s knee, studying Andrew’s tiles, while Andrew whispered in his ear and pointed to the board, clearly conferring with him on the next word. “It’s Thanksgiving,” I said into the phone.
“So?”
“I can’t just leave.”
“How about later?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Well, call me if you decide you can.”
“Yeah, okay.” We said good-bye and I hung up.
“Who was that?” Mom asked as I came back into the family room.
“A friend.”
“Anyone I know?”
I didn’t answer, just perched on the arm of the upholstered chair Melanie and I had been sharing and watched as Andrew arranged some tiles on the board. “Pill,” he announced.
“Four points,” Mom said.
“Noah came up with it,” Andrew said cheerfully. “I was completely stuck, but he saved me.”
“Well done, Noah,” Melanie said. “You want to help us with ours?”
“Okay,” he said and came over to us and peered at the letters while Mom played her turn.
She got “query,” ending on a triple-word box. “Thirty-eight points,” she said with satisfaction. “Mom always wins,” I informed Andrew.
“Wait until Noah’s older. He’ll take her down.”
I was a little skeptical about that, since Noah’s brilliant idea for me and Mel was for us to make the word “ear” using the “r” from “query,” which gained us exactly three points. I would have said no since there were plenty of better options, but Melanie was the kind of adult who liked to encourage kids’ confidence, so she immediately plunked down the tiles.
My dad said, “I seem to have lost my teammate.”
“I can help you too,” Noah said and went over to him.
“It’s good to be the only kid,” I observed.
Once the Scrabble game was over (to no one’s surprise, my mother won), we played a couple of other games: Apples to Apples, at Noah’s request, and then a simple parlor game that Andrew taught us where you had to guess which adverb people were acting out.
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