This Was Not the Plan

by Cristina Alger

  Ives shoots me a dubious look but doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m serious,” I insist. “My wife showed me once. The week before we got married, one of her little cousins jumped off the porch and broke his ankle. Mira and I drove him to the hospital and we took this route to avoid the traffic.”

  “Are you sure you remember it?”

  I nod, praying that I’m right. “Yes,” I say firmly. “You’re just going to have to trust me. Now, take the first road on your left.”

  We pull off onto a small winding road. Though the speed limit reads thirty-five miles per hour, Ives guns the engine; there’s no one around but us. As we fly past darkened houses, my heart starts to race. What if we’re going in the wrong direction? It’s been years since I’ve been out here. If I lead us astray and something happens to Dad, I think, I’ll never forgive myself.

  We come up to a fork that feels vaguely familiar.

  “Left,” I say after a moment’s hesitation.

  “You sure?”

  “I think so.”

  Ives doesn’t move the car but stays idling at the stop sign instead. “I need you to be sure,” he says. “We don’t have time to waste.”

  “Listen to him,” Dad grunts from the backseat. Ives and I both spin around. He lets out a hacking cough. “He knows,” he says, gesturing at the road ahead. His voice is feeble and wheezy. “He knows.”

  I nod to Ives, and Ives nods back. Then we’re off again, speeding through the quiet night air.

  “Jeff,” Dr. Simms says from the backseat. “Jeff, can you keep your eyes open for me? I need you to keep your eyes open, okay?”

  “How’s he doing?” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “Dad, how are you doing back there?”

  “We need to keep him conscious,” Dr. Simms says.

  “How do we do that?”

  “Talk to him.”

  I crane my neck around.

  “Dad?” I say. “Dad, are you listening to me?”

  “Charlie, he may not be able to respond,” Dr. Simms says. “But he’s listening, so keep talking.”

  I bite my lip. For the first time in my life, words fail me.

  Say something, I think. Anything.

  All of a sudden I hear Moose’s voice in my head.

  Just wing it, dude, he says. If it’s half as good as what you said to Zadie, you’ll win an Oscar.

  “So, Dad,” I say, my voice cracking, “I’ve been pretty nervous about my toast tonight. Frankly, I had no idea what I was going to say. How does a guy with no wife and no real relationship with his own father stand up at a wedding and say something inspiring about marriage and family? I’ve had pretty mixed feelings about both those things since I was a kid.

  “But you know what? Zadie never has. When Zadie and I were seven or eight, Mom took us to this costume shop so we could pick out outfits for Halloween. And of everything there, Zadie wanted to be a bride. It was the creepiest little getup you’ve ever seen. Like something out of a horror film, actually. This tiny little veil and these long white gloves and a plastic pearl choker. Mom told us years later that she thought it was the worst costume she ever saw, but she let her get it anyway. Zadie was so happy. For weeks after Halloween, she’d get all dressed up in it and stage her own wedding in the backyard. She’d line her stuffed animals up and she’d make me be the rabbi. And after, she’d go around saying to everyone, ‘It was perfect. Just perfect.’ It was hilarious, actually, in retrospect. She really couldn’t wait to be a bride.

  “I remember one day I asked her what was so great about getting married, and she said, ‘Well, if you get married, it means you have a family.’ And that made me sad. Because, you know, I thought that meant we weren’t really a family. So I asked Mom about it. And she just laughed and said, ‘There’s all kinds of families, Charlie. There are married families and unmarried families. There are people whose friends are their families. What binds a family together isn’t a piece of paper. It’s love.’

  “It’s been a while since I thought about that. It’s funny, because I realize now that Mom was right. This family is the furthest thing from normal. We are one dysfunctional bunch. But I love all of you, I really do, and I know you love me. And that’s enough. It’s really all we need.”

  Dad doesn’t respond. The only sound from the back is the rasp of his breath, which has slowed to an almost inhuman cadence.

  “Anyway,” I say, swallowing hard. “That’s it. I don’t know if that was exactly the right way to say it, but there it is.”

  But there’s more I want to say. I forgive you, I think, my heart racing. I forgive you for everything, you bastard. Just wake up and be okay. Shelley needs you. Caleb loves you. Zadie wants you to meet her baby. And me, well, I want to get to know you. We’ve lost thirty-five years to do that, Dad. We don’t have a minute more to lose.

  • • •

  “We’re here,” Ives announces, interrupting my thoughts. We turn down a long driveway, and I see the sign for Southampton Hospital. “Nice, work, Charlie. I think you saved us a good hour back there.”

  “There they are,” Dr. Simms says. He taps on the window, pointing out a pair of nurses who stand by the hospital doors. “Good job, everybody. We made it.”

  Caleb’s Birthday

  Twenty-One Months Later

  “So, buddy, whaddaya think?”

  I squat down beside Caleb, and together we survey the space. The purple balloons and streamers pop against the sunshine yellow walls. The newly varnished hardwood floors gleam; I imagine they’ll never again look as clean as they do today. The windows are open, letting in a gentle spring breeze. Origami paper birds, handmade by Buck, flutter and twirl, suspended from the ceiling by multicolored strings.

  “It’s great,” Caleb says, staring up at the birds. “Uncle Buck did good.”

  “Hey!” I punch him lightly in the shoulder. “What about me?”

  Caleb turns and flashes me a goofy, gap-toothed grin. He’s lost three teeth so far, two on the bottom, one on the top, the last of which he proudly pulled out himself.

  “You did really good,” he says, and gives me a high-five. “This is the best place ever.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I gotta say, it turned out pretty great.”

  As I look around at the Nest, the play space that Tom and I have been working on for the last eighteen months, my chest swells with pride. I’ve literally built this place with my own hands. Unlike anything I’ve ever done before, this place is real. It’s tangible. I can run my hand along the windows that I installed, and the walls that I painted, and the table I spent two frustrating hours assembling. I’ve sunk as many man-hours into this place as I did the Harrison Brothers settlement, but it’s been a hundred times more rewarding. And I can honestly say it almost never feels like work.

  Starting next week, the Nest will be offering a full schedule of music, gym, and art classes for kids, as well as parenting classes, support groups, and CPR training. We’ll be doing birthday parties, too, and hopefully lots of them. Today’s will be our first.

  “And no one has ever had a birthday party here ever,” Caleb says, still awed by this fact. “I’m the first one.”

  “That’s right. So it’s gonna be really good, I promise.”

  Caleb hesitates, his face clouding over.

  “What’s up, bud?”

  “Nothing,” he says, looking pensive.

  “No, tell me.” I put my arm around him, pull him in close.

  “What if no one comes?”

  I give him a squeeze. “Everybody’s going to come. It’s going to be so packed in here you’re not even going to believe it.”

  “But no one’s here yet.” He points to the cuckoo clock in the corner. “It’s almost four.”

  “Bud! No one comes to a party early. That’s so not cool.”

  “What’s not cool?” Tom calls out from the doorway. In his hands, he holds a gigantic purple cake. Beside him is Delaney, her arms wrapped around a present.


  Tom nudges Delaney. “Ugh, Delaney, looks like we’re the big dorks who arrived first. Guess we’ll just have to eat this cake ourselves.”

  “Cut the cake!” Delaney cries with glee. “Daddy, cut the cake!”

  The sight of the cake stops Caleb dead in his tracks. “That’s the best cake I ever saw.”

  “Well, it’s definitely the heaviest cake I ever carried,” Tom says, heaving it onto the table with a groan. “That’s, like, four hundred pounds of sugar right there. You guys are going to be high for days.”

  Tom holds out his hand to me, pulling me into one of his signature complicated handshakes. “Dude,” he says, “this place looks amazing.”

  “It better,” I say. “I was up literally all night hanging the birds.”

  “They’re perfect. I mean, I loved the idea of them, but seeing them in the space . . .” He shakes his head in disbelief. “We did it.”

  “Lucas!” Caleb suddenly shouts, and sprints to the window. I walk over to join him. Outside on the curb, I see Elise and Lucas hopping out of a cab. Lucas is in the middle of telling a story; Elise is laughing. I wonder what they are saying; I wonder how she is doing, even though I spoke to her only yesterday. I take a deep breath, calming myself. After all this time, Elise still makes my heart race a little. I let the breath go when I see Jared, Elise’s boyfriend, scramble out of the cab behind her.

  “Hey, birthday boy!” Zadie calls from the doorway. Caleb turns and runs to her, wrapping himself around her leg. She bends down and gives him a hug. “Ugh, my big kid. You’re huge. I swear, you’ve grown since last week.”

  “Hey, man,” Buck says from behind Zadie. In his arms he holds their daughter, Wren. “Gimme five. Or should I say, gimme seven.”

  Caleb slaps his hand, then leans in to give Wren a kiss.

  “Hi, Baby Wren,” he says shyly. “I love you.”

  “Aw, buddy, that’s so sweet,” Zadie says. She covers her heart with her hand. “Cousin love,” she sighs.

  “Wow, the place looks amazing.” Buck glances around, admiring our handiwork.

  “Dad would have loved this,” Zadie says. She stands, hands on hips, staring up at the ceiling. For the first time, I can see just a shade of a bump rising beneath her dress. She’s five months along, another little girl on the way. I shiver with excitement, remembering the way it felt to hold my niece in my arms for the first time. Next to Caleb’s birth, it was one of the happiest days of my life. Dad made it to the hospital for the birth—no easy feat, given his health. He died just a few weeks later, a day shy of Wren’s one-month birthday. “He would have been so proud of you, Charlie. Shelley sends her love, by the way. Spoke to her this morning.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  Zadie shrugs. “You know. She’s okay. Settling into the new house. I think she’s happy in Florida. Madison’s with her, for the time being.”

  She gives me a bittersweet smile. Zadie took it hard when Dad passed away, though she didn’t fall entirely apart as I feared she might. Wren, I think, kept her together. She was so new at the time, just a helpless little thing, still nursing at all hours of the night. My sister, as expected, has thrown herself wholeheartedly into motherhood, and it suits her well. Just as she did with Mom, Dad, and Caleb, she nurtures Wren with every fiber of her being. She seems calmer now, more at peace. With Buck and Wren, Zadie finally seems at home.

  A few weeks after Dad passed, Caleb and I moved to Fort Greene, a two-minute walk from Zadie and Buck’s place. At the time, I told myself we were doing it to support my sister, but the truth is, I love having her nearby. Though I finally hired a part-time nanny to watch Caleb while I’m working, Zadie still does a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to him. We’re over at her place on weekends almost as much as we’re home. She and Wren pick Caleb up from school nearly every day and sometimes stop by in the morning, too, bearing coffee and bagels. Zadie’s offered to sit anytime I have a date. Maybe one day I’ll take her up on it.

  • • •

  A fresh wave of people arrives, all smiles and gifts and hugs. Tom switches on the music, and suddenly it feels like a party.

  “Daddy, they came,” Caleb says excitedly. “Everybody came. Hannah and Delaney and Lucas. And Alexi and March and Christopher and . . .” He’s still ticking friends off his fingers when he wanders off into the crowd. He’s adjusted remarkably well to his new school in Brooklyn. While he still has the occasional nightmare about impending natural disasters, for the most part, it feels like the clouds above his head have parted and the sun’s come out. He has friends, too. Just a few, but they’re very real and, I notice with satisfaction, they’re all here to celebrate his birthday.

  “See, bud. Told ya,” I say, but he’s already gone.

  “Helluva party.” Elise appears by my side. She opens her arms and pulls me in.

  “Hi,” I say, and hold her a little longer than usual. “Thank you for hanging around this weekend. I know you could have been in the Hamptons. It means a lot to Caleb and me that you guys came.”

  She gives me a look. “The Hamptons? Please. And miss the hottest party in town? Anyway, I wanted to check out this cool new play space. I hear it’s tough to get a reservation, but I happen to know the owner.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “Honestly?” She glances around appraisingly.

  “Honestly.”

  “I think it’s amazing.” Elise looks up at me, and for a moment we lock eyes. She looks away first, as always. “Seriously, Charlie, you did an incredible job.”

  “Thanks. That means a lot.”

  “This place is hopping! Is Moose here?”

  “Nah, he’s still on his honeymoon.”

  “Still? Didn’t he and Julie get married, like, a month ago?”

  “They’re hiking the Appalachian Trail.”

  Elise chuckles. “Julie is a good sport. I guess there’s a pot for every lid.”

  “Right?”

  We both fall quiet for a minute.

  “Look at what you built. I hope you are proud of yourself.” Though she’s smiling, there’s a touch of something else in her voice: wistfulness, or maybe just nostalgia.

  “I am. I mean, I don’t know how it compares to those fancy play spaces you guys have going on the Upper East Side, but here in Fort Greene we think this is pretty cool.”

  “Ugh, shut up.” Elise slaps me on the arm. “Less than a year in Brooklyn and you’re going all hipster on me. Nice glasses, by the way. Very Buddy Holly.”

  “Listen,” I say, raising my palms, “I’m not the one dating a hot young photographer. Speaking of—”

  Elise cranes her neck around until we both spot Jared.

  “There he is,” she says. “Over by the piñata, with the kids.”

  “Glad to see he’s found his peers,” I say, unable to resist. The truth is that Jared is a nice guy who treats Elise with the reverence she deserves. While a part of me will always be a little jealous of whomever she’s with, if it’s going to be anyone, I’d like it to be someone like Jared. Still, I can’t help but poke fun at the fact that he’s still in his twenties. What else are friends for?

  “Charlie.” Elise shoots me a look, but she can’t keep the twinkle out of her eye.

  “What? I meant that sincerely. You know, you can drop him off here anytime. We have some great art classes he might enjoy.”

  “You’re mean. You’re making me feel like cradle robber.”

  “Actually, you’re my inspiration. Age is just a number, right?”

  Elise raises her eyebrows. “Did you ask out that pretty young thing from your therapist’s office? The one who was making eyes at you in the reception room? I told you something good would come from seeing that doctor.”

  “Yeah, what’s sexier than a guy coming out of a grief counselor’s office?”

  “Well, did you? Ask her out, I mean.”

  “I did. We met for coffee on Saturday.”

  “And?”


  “And she’s a little younger than I thought.”

  “How young is young?”

  “She’s a senior at NYU.”

  Elise buries her face in her hands. “Oh, Charlie!” she groans. “Too young.”

  “Trust me, I know. She was sweet and all, but . . .”

  “I mean, what could you possibly have in common with a girl that age?”

  “Well, more than you’d think. We both like foosball. We both consider Lucky Charms to be a primary food group. And I’m bragging here, but I think she would be pretty impressed with my Grand Theft Auto skills. So what else is there? You have the same connection with Jared, right?”

  “Look, Jared’s great,” she says, moving closer. “He’s fun and sweet and he makes me laugh.”

  “I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.”

  “Don’t interrupt. What I was trying to say was that he’s great for right now, but neither Jared nor I have any delusions about where our relationship is going. He’s too young for me, we both know that. He wants kids of his own.”

  “You wouldn’t have another?”

  She shrugs. “Maybe one more. If the right guy came along.”

  “What if the right guy had a kid of his own?”

  “That, I think, would be perfect.”

  We look at one another for a nice, long while.

  “Daddy!” Caleb shouts from across the room. “I need you!”

  I look at Elise.

  “Go,” she says softly, nodding her head in his direction.

  “To be continued?”

  “To be continued,” she says with a wink.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing, like parenthood, takes a village. I am so grateful to all the people who make up mine. This book is for:

  Jonathan, without whom I could not do what I do and still be a half-decent mom. You make everything possible.

  My mother, who has been listening patiently to my stories for thirty-five years and counting.

  Emma, who is already funnier and more entertaining than I could ever hope to be.