One Small Thing

by Barksdale Inclan, Jessica

  “Yeah.” Avery shook her head, put down the platter, and looked at her own plate. She flipped green beans with her fork. “And then we started talking about work.”

  Dan sat back and dropped his fork. “What do you mean?”

  She felt her breath shallow in her throat, and she tried to swallow. She’d never felt like this before, not with anything she’d done. When she’d found this house, she’d told her agent Brenda Witherspoon that they’d take it, even before Dan had seen the inside. She didn’t consult him about taking the job with PeopleWorks initially, telling him when she came home from the interview about the travel. She’d known what to do, felt right about it. Everything fit, like a suit she’d try on at Neiman Marcus.

  “Well, I’m not going to try for the baby any more, am I?” She felt her skin flare red, so she reached over for the salad bowl and piled more on her plate, even though everything about the meal—the oil slick on the potato skin, the fat, crackly white rim around the pork slices—made her stomach contract. She avoided Dan’s eyes.

  “But . . . What about?”

  “What about what, Dan?” she asked, looking up.

  “We don’t know about Daniel. And if—if he’s mine?”

  “What does knowing he’s yours have to do with my going back to work?”

  Dan wiped his mouth and put his napkin on the table. He put an elbow on the table, thought about it, and then sat back again. “When he comes here. He’ll need—“

  “So you think I’m going to sit around here and take care of a ten-year-old boy I don’t know? Is that what you had in mind?” Avery moved her teeth to her cheek and then stopped, knowing that one more bite would draw blood.

  “No. I didn’t say that. It’s just that you’re here now. You are home. I didn’t know that you had plans to go back to work.”

  “Well, I do. I start work on Monday. I’m going to St. Louis to oversee a whole integrated system. I’ll be gone for a week.”

  “But Aves. The visit. Tuesday. We’re going to Turlock. To see—to meet Daniel.”

  “This,” she said slowly, “is yours to take care of. He is your son—if he’s your son.”

  Dan shook his head back and forth. She folded her arms, clenching her jaw. There. There, she thought. So there.

  “It’s summer still. School doesn’t start until the end of August.”

  Avery pushed her chair back and stood up, her plate in her hands. “You’ll need to hire someone. Enroll him in a camp. He can go to all that art therapy and martial arts and whatnot. Get a babysitter for when school starts. I don’t know, Dan. I mean, Gee! What do other parents do? And I’m not the parent.”

  She turned and walked into the kitchen, clacking her plate on the counter, leaning against it, trying to breathe. She wasn’t the parent, not to this child.

  Dan stood in the doorway. “I don’t know what other parents do, Avery. I’ve never been a parent before.”

  She closed her eyes. Right. He wasn’t a parent. But, quite clearly, his sperm did what they needed to. Avery had seen that through a microscope already, and now there was living proof that his insides worked. It was her. It had always been her fault.

  “I know,” she whispered.

  He moved closer, and she straightened her back, not wanting him to touch her.

  “Look,” he said. “I know this is a lot to ask, but I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the job earlier.”

  “You can’t believe I didn’t tell you about a job?” Avery put her hand on her hip. “Think about what you just said, Dan.”

  “I know. I know. I can’t keep saying I’m sorry, but I am. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry that all of this is happening. But you’re my wife, Aves. I need you now.”

  “I’m a different kind of wife than I was a week ago.” She turned on the water, hearing her sentence in her mind. A different kind of marriage. A different kind of wife. A different life all together. “I start Monday,” she said again, but when she turned, he’d already left the room.

  

  Later, she heard the noise as she lay in bed. After cleaning up the kitchen, she’d gone to the bedroom, closing the door behind her, hoping Dan would give her the night to think alone. And he had. She heard him moving around in the family room and the kitchen, and for a second she wondered if she should completely ignore him. But what if he went back to his Randi habits? What if he started drinking more than Coronas? In her mind, she saw him put on a sweatshirt, jump in the Lexus, and drive to where? Martinez? Walnut Creek? Oakland? He’d find a house, a street corner, a boxy apartment and disappear inside it, coming out with a bag hidden under his clothes. Much later, he’d come home reeking of weed and scotch and vodka and beer.

  She turned and spun in a sleepy drift of thought and fear when she heard the noise. It was muffled at first, but then grew louder, as if Dan had opened the garage door to awaken her. She sat up, holding her breath, and then there it was again, the crack and split of wood. The thud of heavy metal on expensive furniture, the wide open whack of painted wood fracturing. At first, she thought it was part of the awful thoughts she’d been jolted away from. But then she closed her eyes and listened. The garage. What could it be? What was he doing? In her mind, she scanned the room and could only see white painted rails, smooth, expensive hardwood, sturdy, safe wooden legs.

  She jerked away the covers and ran down the hall, pushing wide the garage door. Blinking against the bright fluorescent lights, she tried to open her eyes wide despite the pain. Dan was moving, his body convulsing over the crib, his arm up, then down, his legs and chest heaving upon the wood. Crack, crack. She blinked again against air that was filled with the smell of wood and anger and then realized that the crib was in splinters in front of the Lexus and the Land Rover. She put her hand to her mouth, and wanted to scream, to yell out and stop him. But it was too late; she stood there, her heart pounding.

  Dan looked up, but didn’t see her, sweat or tears covering his face, his eyes blank. He stopped, wiped his face, breathed out in hard gasps. Sweat ringed his underarms.

  Avery gasped silently, her body frozen by in the doorway. Outside, she heard a door slam. Probably Luis coming outside to check out the terrible sound. Dan stood up over the crib, each breath visible under his shirt. He wiped his face again, and then closed his eyes, and leaned his head back and moaned, a sound she’d only heard when they were in bed, his climax just at its height. But out here, in the cool garage, she thought of animal, wolf, tiger, bear, of something in pain, a leg between metal teeth.

  With the sledge hammer with both hands, Dan lifted it up over his head again. Avery backed away, flinching at the busted sound of dreams, and closed the door behind her.

  SIX

  On Tuesday, Dan picked up Jared in Lafayette at 9:45 and then got back on I-680, accelerating past Walnut Creek, Alamo, Danville, Dublin without saying a word. Jared sat in the passenger’s seat, looking at the freeway in front of him, but Dan could tell his brother was searching for words. No matter how long Jared looked, there wasn’t much he could say that would reassure or fix. Avery was in St. Louis. They weren’t speaking, the week following Dan’s crazy crib destruction full of silence and reproach, Avery sleeping on her side of the bed clutching the covers.

  And now Dan and Jared were on their way to Modesto and then Turlock to find out about Dan’s son. Son. Son? Dan shook his head. He wasn’t sure why he had asked Jared to come instead of Luis. His friend would have understood his silence, respected it, while Jared clearly wanted to talk about the exact nature of the appointment with Midori Nolan, what his role would be in the discussion, how precisely he could help Dan. All Dan wanted, really, was a warm familiar body next to him. That was it. Maybe it was the memory of Jared always beside him at night in the quiet dark house, listening as Dan told stories. Or maybe he wanted to prove that he could do this thing right. He adjusted his hands on the steering wheel and sighed, Jared taking the sound as an opening.

  “So the appointment is
at 11, right?”

  “Yeah.” Dan changed lanes and passed a VW van.

  “So this social worker will have the results? Will we—you—find out today for sure?”

  “I guess so. I signed a waiver or something, and the results were going to be sent directly to Midori. She’ll be able to start putting the facts and plans together. I don’t know, Jared. I’ve just been following everyone’s advice.” Dan sighed again, his body seeming to be made of air. Avery hadn’t given him any advice at all, but he could hear it all the same: Take care of the boy, but leave me out of it. I’m going back to work, okay? I want you to figure it all out.

  “Did you tell any one at work? Steve?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I just took the day off. I have it coming. Believe it or not, I landed the FormCom account yesterday. It’s a huge deal. Steve will be treating me like a king for at least a week.”

  As he took the I-580 exit and curled around, heading toward the Altamont pass and its dry, windmill hills, Dan knew he’d rather be at work. It was so easy, clear, concise. Sell telecommunication systems. Get paid. Get promoted. Make money. He loved to sit at his desk and make contact calls, chatting up strangers, using his voice to convince. He was good at it, maybe developing the skill years ago when he had to lie to his parents about where he was and who he was with, assuring them with every slick sentence. But now, at home with Avery, he couldn’t form the words that would make her feel better, as if comfort was a foreign language. He cast a glance at Jared, and then pushed on the gas, wanting to make something happen, even if it were only miles.

  Midori Nolan was neither Japanese nor Irish, as far as Dan could figure out. She was a thin, tall woman, with curly black hair and brown eyes, who sat at her desk without smiling. He knew that if he were on a sales call, he’d somehow get the story of Midori’s name and her parents out of her. In fact, within minutes, they’d be having a good joke about it. Midori would relate the long story of how her mother loved Japanese culture a bit too dearly, and then she’d buy up a huge telecommunications system for the Social Services Department of Stanislaus County. Steve would call him in for a congratulatory chat and a huge bonus—Dan would surprise Avery with the keys to the vacation home in Tahoe they’d talked about.

  Dan almost smiled at the idea of it, until he realized Midori Nolan was waiting for an answer to a question.

  “Since you signed the waiver, I was able to get the results from your physician beforehand. They were FedExed over. Do you want to discuss them with me and . . .” she looked at Jared. “Your brother?”

  Nodding, he turned to Jared, who smiled, nodding as well, everything so “okay.” Dan felt like one of those bobbing toys with the heads that wobbled back and forth on tiny plastic bodies, goofy smiles on their faces. What he really wanted to do was stand up, pace, move through the room as his life was being changed by words. Or he didn’t want to be here at all, still feeling the highway under the Lexus’ tires. In four hours, he could be in LA. From there, Mexico. Who would care? Not Avery. Not Steve, at least right away. Not his parents, who had pushed him away long ago. Maybe just Luis and Valerie and Jared. And the boy he didn’t even know yet.

  “Yes,” Dan said, exhaling. “Of course.”

  Midori nodded and opened up her file. “The DNA results are 99% conclusive of paternity. That is about as close as you can get, from what I’ve been told. We’ve used these tests before in cases.”

  When Avery had been going through the tests and the shots and the monthly IUIs, Dan sometimes let himself imagine what it would be like in the delivery room. Just as in the movies he and Avery had watched together, he would be standing at her side, holding her hands as she pushed, telling her, “You are doing great, Aves. It’s almost there. The head is almost there.” He would wipe her forehead, staring into the mirror at her feet, following the progress of the slick, wet head moving into the light.

  And then, with one last, long push, the baby’s head—his and Avery’s baby—would break through, its little gnomish features bunched and dark. The doctor would suction out all the fluid from its nose and mouth, and the baby would break free with a giant, first cry. Alive. So alive. He would squeeze Avery’s hand, whisper, “Everything is great,” and then move to the baby. With the last big push, the child would shoot into the doctor’s hands. His child. He was a father. Even when he was simply dreaming about it, his heart seemed too large for his entire body, pumping and pulsing in a way he’d never felt before.

  Now, with the proof that he was finally a father, Dan felt a flat line of panic thrum through his chest, low but constant. His breath was caught up under his sternum, and all he could look at was the full, leafy plant with heart shaped leaves on Midori Nolan’s desk. He tried to slip on his salesman face, but his lips only twitched when he tried to smile. He should be smiling, shouldn’t he? He had a child, a boy, past the worst stages, the ones Avery and he read about in the What to Expect When You’re Expecting book Valerie had given them. No diapers. No late night cries. No bottles.

  “Wow,” Jared said. “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” Dan answered, pulling up the only sound he could find in his throat.

  “This must be difficult,” said Midori. “This will be a big change for you and your wife.”

  “Right,” said Dan. “A big change.”

  “Do you want to call your wife? Avery, right? You can use my phone.” Midori started to stand up as if to leave so he could have a moment of privacy.

  “No, that’s fine. I’ll tell her—I’ll tell her later.”

  “What happens now?” Jared asked. “Is there a hearing? Or is it paper work? Or both?”

  “When do I see him?” Dan said before she could answer any of his brother’s questions.

  Midori rearranged herself on her chair. “I called his foster family this morning to see what his schedule is like. He gets out of summer school early today. But that’s not until 2:15. I suppose if you wanted to go have lunch, we could meet back here at about 2:00 to drive to Turlock.”

  “And then what?” Jared asked. Dan flicked a look at his brother. This wasn’t really his business, and Dan wished he’d stop asking so many questions. But maybe Jared was doing so because Dan couldn’t seem to ask what was important.

  “You’re right about the paper work and the hearing. But the paternity test makes it really almost pro forma. We will collect information about Dan. His wife. Their marriage and family situation.” She stopped and smiled at Dan. “And then we present the information to the court, which will approve the change in the child’s status, from foster care to parental care. We’ve already done an initial family background check and searched for other living relatives. We have the DNA test that says it all. It should be quite easy.”

  Dan remembered Avery’s question to Vince Brasch. “What happened to Randi’s parents. Did they both die?”

  Midori shook her head, thinking. “It’s kind of strange. The grandmother died in 1993. We know that. Death certificate on file and such. But the grandfather seems to have disappeared. We made many inquiries, but we are assuming—and the court will assume—that he is out of the picture. Randi didn’t leave any forwarding address for him or any information at all.”

  “Could he come back and cause trouble,” Jared asked, leaning forward. “I mean, could he want custody of Daniel?”

  “Oh, no,” Midori said. “The father takes precedence.”

  So,” Dan began, feeling like he was losing something with each word that came from his mouth. “So this could all be over in less than a month?”

  “Oh, sooner. That is, if you want him.”

  Midori and Jared turned to him; he could feel their eyes on him like a tree full of owls, as his grandmother used to say. Owls with night vision that noticed everything.

  “Well, yes. I mean, he’s my son. I want to meet him, though.”

  Midori nodded. “You should meet him. We will have a couple of visits before this is all settled. You should really think ab
out it carefully.”

  “Does he know?” Dan asked. “You’ve told him everything?”

  Midori put on her glasses and picked up a pen. Under the glass, her eyes were wide and dark and blurry. “We haven’t told him a thing. It wouldn’t be right until we were sure of the paternity and knew if you wanted custody. At this point, he doesn’t know about you or any of your family.”

  “How has he dealt with his mother’s death?” Jared asked, the therapist in him wanting to know the inner story. Dan hadn’t told his brother what Vince Brasch had said, the terror, the learning difficulties, the fighting.

  “He sees a therapist once a week. But he’s a sad little boy. Angry, too. I think he feels very lost.”

  Dan licked his lips, pressed them together, swallowed. As he listened to Midori and Jared talk, he felt the road under his tires, the slick black asphalt that could take him away. Daniel didn’t know him yet, so there was time.