Chapter 16
More Like an Imaginary Friend
Spring grabbed a chair, slid it to the stove, climbed up and poured the leftover chili from The Manhattan Chili Co. into a pan.
“Hey, let me help you there,” I said, lifting her and putting her on the ground. “Where did you learn how to do that?”
“Billie.”
“Oh really?”
“Uh, huh. She said everything tastes better on the stove.”
“Do you think that, too?”
“Uh, huh.” She smiled rather smugly.
“Okay, but you leave the stove part to me, deal?”
She nodded. “Deal.”
Spring watched as I removed the milk from the refrigerator and got out two sippy cups.
“When is Billie coming over?”
“It’s just you and me tonight.”
“Why?”
“She’s busy”.
“Busy?”
“It means she has other things to do.”
Spring frowned.
“My thoughts exactly, but that’s what she said.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“Spring, I don’t think we’ll see her tomorrow or anytime this week.”
“Why not?”
“Sometimes adults need to take a break from each other.”
“How come?”
“We see each other at work and go on vacations and have dinner together…and we need some time away to sort through our thoughts.”
Spring pointed at the chili and reminded me to stir.
“What I mean is that sometimes we feel differently about each other and that makes things confusing.”
Spring clearly didn’t understand, so I tried again.
“You know when Jeffery at the daycare center hits Ellen in the arm?”
She nodded. Jeffery and Ellen “liked” each other and showed affection the way four-year-olds often do.
“Well, I hit Billie in the arm and it turned out that she got mad at me because of it.”
“Billie isn’t coming back?” Spring began to bite her lip.
“I don’t know, Spring. I hope…”
Spring ran into her room with me behind her. She buried her head into her pillow and started crying.
“What’s the matter, Spring?”
“She isn’t coming back.”
I decided lying made sense here. “Of course she’ll be back.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Next week?”
She sobbed into her pillow. “You just said you didn’t know…”
“She’ll be back, just not as much as in the past few months…but she’ll be back.”
She lifted her head up and looked at me, her little gray eyes red with tears. “She isn’t coming back…like Mommy,”
If I were four, it might seem that way to me, too. I searched for the right spin for a child, but couldn’t come up with anything. “She’ll come back, I said because I had no other way of dealing with Spring’s anguish at this point. “I promise.”
“Really promise?”
“Really promise.”
Looking to the eggplant window frame sketched on the wall, I wondered about Billie and if Spring would ever really see her again. The thought that she might not upset me nearly as much as the thought that Billie and I might have no future as friends.
“D?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you so sad?”
I picked up Diane’s picture from the table. “Because I miss your mom, and I miss Billie and I’m afraid…”
There was a loud wail from the kitchen and I ran to check my latest failure. Black smoke poured from the pan of chili. After drowning our dinner and cracking the smoke detector with the broom handle, I was ready to start over. Spring laughed the entire time.
“Who left this on and then forgot about it?”
Spring pointed at me.
“Me?”
She nodded.
“I should know better.”
She nodded again.
“You should have reminded me.”
She pointed to herself and imitated me. “Me?” she said.
“Uh, huh.”
She shook her head.
When I lunged to tickle her, she ran into the living room. I caught her at the couch and tickled her into submission. There, in front of the couch next to the TV beneath the shelf where the urn sat, Spring’s mural of the two of us and Billie was pinned to the wall. We stared at the outlines. Not only were the images holding hands, at some time in the last month, she had drawn smiles on their faces.
“You want to go to the park tomorrow? I’ll tell Mr. Mason I’m taking a day off.”
She didn’t say anything.
“We can see the ducks…”
She gave half a smile.
“And the penguins…”
She half-shrugged. .
“We can see Mr. Jimmy and get a hot dog…”
Finally, she smiled.
“Spring, this whole thing will work out for the better, okay?”
“Uh, huh.”
“I promise.”
The next day, I played hooky and felt guilty every minute. It hadn’t been that long since Mason had given me all of that time off. Still, I felt that Spring needed this time. She needed to know that I would do this for her.
At the zoo, Spring saw the ducks, but the penguin exhibit was closed for cleaning. She ate half her hot dog before feeling full, and I ate the other half because someone had to. I remember the expression on Diane’s face when I used to do this in front of her; the look that said, How can any adult eat those things? That had been more than six months ago. In six months, Spring had become a New Yorker, a Giants fan, and had just started rooting for the Yankees. In six months, Spring had learned to eat hot dogs from a cart, bagels, and even tasted calamari, or “icky squid,” as she had referred to it. And in six months, Diane had become more of an icon than a person. When Spring talked to her these days, she seemed more like an imaginary friend.
When we got to the elevator back at the apartment, Jim was in the lobby. He waited for us, holding the door. “Just dropped the boys off at their monster’s, uh, mother’s,” he said. “What have you been up to?”
“The zoo!” Spring shouted in the small space.
Jim smiled at her. “Well, Miss Spring, I’m glad I don’t have a hangover.”
“Hey, come on over,” I said. “I’ll order a pizza.” I hoped Spring wouldn’t ask me to put mac and cheese on her slices because I really didn’t need the physical reminder of Billie.
“Sounds good.”
“If you want beer, though, you’re going to have to bring some. All I have in the house is scotch and the kind of wine you don’t drink with pizza.”
“Good thing I’m around, huh? Give me a few minutes and I’ll come over.”
“Cool,” Spring said, and we both smiled down at her.
While we waited for Jim, Spring put on her pajamas and I ordered the pizza. When I hung up the phone, I realized that I was staring at my Fishhook Cactus, which had once resembled a turkey piñata. Thanksgiving dinner. Billie had done so many things for us, dozens of things over those months. The only thing she didn’t do was stick around.
I called down to Spring, who had gone into her room. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Put these on.” I handed her a Groucho nose and glasses along with the Santa hat. “When Jim gets here, let’s surprise him.”
She liked the idea.
When we heard the knock, we tiptoed to the door and readied ourselves, adjusting our hats, noses and glasses. I gave Spring notice with a head nod of one, two, three, and opened the door.
“Ta daa!” I shouted, with Spring joining in. The cotton ball tassels on the ends of our Santa hats bounced.
It wasn’t Jim.
“Mr. Hunter, I’m Special Officer Guevara with New York Family Services. This is Special Officer Porter and Mrs. Heins. We’re here to talk with you about Spring Sommers. Ma
y we come in?”
I felt like I’d been dipped in freon. “Yes, of course.”
While Special Officers Guevara and Porter were clearly here to lend muscle and authority, Mrs. Heins did most of the talking. “Mr. Hunter, we’re here because we have to follow up on a report filed by Mrs. Stephanie Eckleburg from Spring’s daycare. It is her responsibility to report when there is a change in guardianship. Her report says that since the death of Spring’s mother, she has yet to receive copies of Spring’s adoption papers…”
“That’s crazy. Spin. “I filed for adoption…”
“Mr. Hunter, I checked all pending filings. Spring Sommers was not in there.”
“But…”
“But sometimes papers can be misplaced.”
“Yes, that’s true,” I said.
“So, we’re here to see your copies.”
I realized I was still wearing the Santa hat and Groucho glasses and removed them. Spring hid behind me.
Before now, the worst thing I had ever done in my life that required the police was driving too fast. It cost me a hundred bucks and made me slow down for about an hour. That was ten years ago. Now, there were two armed cops in my hallway. I searched for the proper words.
“Your papers, Mr. Hunter?” Special Officer Porter said.
Spin...spin.
“Mr. Hunter?”
“Look, I haven’t had the time to get to the actual filing.”
“Mr. Hunter,” it was Mrs. Heins again, “we’re going to have to take Spring.”
“But, it wasn’t her fault.”
“Mr. Hunter, this isn’t about fault. It’s about the law of the City of New York. According to the Family Court Act, you have committed a substantial failure to comply with a material condition for the adoption of a child. You had 20 days, Mr. Hunter. It has been more than six months.”
“I’ll do it first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Mr. Hunter, the Family Court will appoint a legal representative for Spring and she will be placed in protective custody. Mrs. Heins stuck out her hand. “Here’s my card. Spring’s temporary custody hearing will be Thursday at 1:00.”
“Can’t I just bring her?”
“Mr. Hunter, we’re taking Spring with us. Please get her things.”
My fake nose fell to the floor.
“Mr. Hunter, please. Her things?”
Spring heard everything, though I’m not sure how much she understood. She tightened her grip around my leg. I picked her up and carried her to her bedroom. My arms felt numb. I was afraid I was going to stumble and drop her on the floor.
When we were alone, I told her what was happening and began to pack her duck backpack. “Spring, you have to go with this lady tonight, so I’m going to get your things ready. She seems okay, don’t you think?”
“I don’t want to go,” she said. Her voice sounded clipped, as though she were having trouble getting the words out.
“And I don’t want you to go,”I said, kneeling down next to her. “But you have to. It’ll only be for a few days. In spite of all that had changed, I could still lie convincingly. “Just a few days. I’ll have you back by Thursday… okay?”
“No! I don’t want to go!”she said, forcefully. Not only was I not convincing her with my demeanor, but I seemed to be increasing her anxiety level.
She had enough clean underwear and socks, and changes of clothing. I closed the bag. Then I kneeled down again and put my hand on her shoulder. “Spring, I made a mistake. I was stupid, but I’m going to fix it. It’ll only be a couple of days.”
“You promise?”
Tears started running down her cheeks. She not only looked sad, she looked scared. It was hard for me to believe that the Family Services people had her best interests in mind, if this was what they were doing to her.
“I promise,” I said. I tried to sound confident, but the words simply came out loud. I picked her up and gave her a hug. “I love you, Spring.”
She buried her head in my neck. I seriously considered the idea of slipping out the fire escape. I mean, I seriously considered it. I knew I could open Spring’s window without making too much noise, and once we were on the street, I knew we could disappear pretty easily. But life on the lam was not something I was willing to put Spring through, even considering the alternatives.
I held her quietly for another minute before I carried her to Mrs. Family Services. Before Spring would let go, she whispered something into my ear. For the first time since sharing Spring with Diane, I wasn’t embarrassed when she whispered a little too loudly. “D?” Her eyes welled up with tears. “I love you.” She’d never said it to me before. “Remember…you promised.”
Mrs. Heins took Spring, while one of the cops grabbed her backpack.
“Thursday at 1:00,” Mrs. Heins said, as though she needed to remind me. And then they were gone. I didn’t even get to kiss Spring goodbye one more time.
I turned around to my suddenly silent apartment. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that Spring was playing in her bedroom. It was a useless exercise. Because I had pretended I could keep her like finding a puppy I had lost her. I hadn’t filed in the first 20 days because I didn’t think Spring would be with me that long. And when I finally decided that I couldn’t live without her, I tried to ignore the fact that what I was doing was completely illegal. People got away with a lot more every day.
Mr. Jimmy sat temporarily forgotten on the floor, his Teddy Bear face protruding from his duck suit. There was a knock. I picked up the stuffed animal and hurried to the door.
“Spring?” I said as I opened it.
“Did she get loose again?” It was Jim. “I brought the brewskies. We’ll need more pizza if Mr. Jimmy’s eating, too.”
I sat down on the floor.
I wanted to be alone, and although it took some persuading before I could get Jim to go, at least he left the beers. I tried getting wasted and couldn’t even get a second beer down my throat. This was unquestionably the first time in my life that had ever happened. A few days ago, I thought my life was tough because I couldn’t get a sandcastle to withstand a little wind. Now, every woman in my life who I had ever loved was gone.
I stared at Spring’s giant mural of her, Billie, and me holding hands. Just below the picture and to the right, in a stretch of wall not covered by paper, was another one. It was Spring’s rendition of The Angel of the Waters Fountain at Bethesda Terrace that Diane, Spring, and I had visited on that first weekend of the rest of my life. Like the teenager who vows never to wash her hand again after touching a celebrity, I told myself that I would never move from this apartment because I needed to have this picture with me forever.
From deep below the silence, a lone echo offered counterpoint: I promise… I promise… I promise… I’d promised Diane’s spirit that I would take care of Spring. I’d promised Billie that I would be honest. I’d promised Spring that I would bring her home. It was too late for Diane. And Billie and Mr. 600 I.Q. were probably on their third Slow Screw by now. And as I sat there, I felt my third promise evaporating. Who was I to make that promise anyway? What possible right did I have to keep Spring? What did it matter that I loved her and would do anything to help her have a good life? What was love compared to the New York legal system?
It was almost 8:00 and time for Spring’s bath. But there wouldn’t be a bath tonight no story, song, or funny voices. What an awful way to discover that I needed the routine as much as Spring did. Tonight, it was just Mr. Jimmy and me, an under-responsible man and a stuffed toy whose last name I didn’t know.
They say that people who freeze to death ultimately surrender to the cold and embrace it. I realized that selfpity was a lot like that, and I allowed myself to be numbed by it for a few minutes more. Then I got up. I felt that if I didn’t do something that they’d ultimately find me sitting on the couch, bewilderment etched forever on my face. I went to the closet, removed the old relic of a suitcase and dumped it onto the bed. I had thrown all of Diane’
s stuff into it, except a few pictures and the urn. The contents spilled out; shirts and photos mixed with cards, the address book, and the thermos. The same old thermos that clanked when I shook it sat next to the address book with the mysterious E. I unscrewed the top, removed the sock and looked at the aluminum skeleton key. This key had the answer to secrets. I had known that for a long time. I just wasn’t sure I wanted those secrets revealed to me. After losing Diane, I didn’t want to lose Spring by finding her loser dad. But now I didn’t have the luxury of feeling that way.
I grabbed the address book and flipped through it for the bazillionth time, stopping where I always stopped: on the S page. I looked again at the E next to the telephone number 466-4642 and no area code. Diane’s picture, taken in front of Lake Michigan, smiled at me with her funny 90’s hair and wrinkle-free face.
I ran my fingers along the edges of the key and read, 4642 stamped at the top. The same number that was in the address book. I scanned the objects before me, hoping for a message to emerge.
Shirts, hats, deck of cards, the photo, a black and porous rock with a small hole, some paperbacks, an old candle; it was a suitcase full of trifles that didn’t remind me of Diane and didn’t send any messages at all. None of these things fit Diane or my image of her. Hadn’t I figured out who I was by trial and error? Not all of my things matched me. Like the Fishook Cactus or my pink hibiscus urn. Maybe Diane kept these items to mark some kind of evolution, the trying on of various personae en route to becoming the real Diane Sommers. Or maybe it didn’t match her because most of the stuff wasn’t hers at all. Was it the dad’s? Was it a collection of stuff that guys who had broken her heart had left behind?
These were mysteries I’d try to solve on another day, or maybe never. With the key, I had a place to start in my quest to keep Spring from Family Services although it could very likely lead me to losing her to another man.
I asked myself if I was ready for this. I hadn’t been up until now. And then it dawned on me that being ready had nothing to do with it.
While I’m not so sure how long I stared at Diane’s stuff, I was sure about what I needed to do: I needed to get Spring back. It had been only a few hours, but without her, my life seemed to leak from my heart like a small cracked plastic bucket used to form sandcastle memories.
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