by Tom Rogers
“Chores, Nunes.”
“I’m tired.”
“You know the rule. Chores before dinner.”
Nunu moaned and slid off the front of the sofa.
“Who’s gonna cook dinner?” she asked, shuffling off to the kitchen.
Alex hadn’t thought of that. He headed to the kitchen after her.
Behind him, Radar sat up, waited till the coast was clear, then climbed across the arms of the sofa and straight back into the big, comfy chair.
Alex’s mom kept a tiny TV on the kitchen counter next to the stove. Alex waited as Nunu pulled an empty garbage bag from under the sink and headed back to the bedrooms to collect the trash. Then he flicked on the TV to catch the latest news on the disaster, keeping one eye on the hot dogs he was frying and one eye out for Nunu. But the stations didn’t have much new to report, and watching the towers fall again and again wasn’t making him feel any better, so he turned it off.
Suddenly, Alex heard voices in the other room. He dropped the pan with a clang and went sprinting into the living room.
But it was only the TV. Radar had stepped on the remote. Alex flicked off the TV, then motioned for Radar to vacate his dad’s lounge chair.
“Radar, out.”
Radar tucked his tail and slinked off the chair. Alex tugged him by the neck to the other side of the room and settled him in the corner; then he headed back in to finish dinner. Radar followed him with his eyes all the way out the door.
Back in the kitchen, Alex found a box of instant macaroni and cheese and tried to follow the recipe on the back. When everything in the pot turned safety-vest orange, he figured he’d done it right. Satisfied, he licked the extra cheese dust out of the creases in the packet.
While he was cooking, the phone rang. Alex snatched it up quickly.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Alex.”
“Oh. Hey, Dougie.” Alex tried to hide his disappointment. “What’s up?”
“Kwan and me, we, uh….” Doug’s voice trailed off. He got a running start and tried again. “Sorry we ditched you.”
“You had to. It was Jordan. Every man for himself.”
“Nah. That wasn’t cool,” said Dougie, sounding relieved.
“Don’t worry about it. You guys get away okay?”
“Yeah, but what happened?”
“Radar—oh, that’s my dog’s name, by the way.”
“Awesome name.”
“Jordan was about to pulverize me when Radar snuck up behind him and growled.”
“No way.”
“You should’ve seen the look on Jordan’s face.”
“I can’t believe I missed it! I have no life.”
“Radar was like this total hero. He chased them all the way out of the park. They were screaming like babies the whole time.”
“Did he bite him? Please tell me there was blood.”
“Tore his back pocket off.”
“Epic!”
They both laughed until they fell into an awkward silence.
“You see the news?” Dougie asked quietly.
“Yeah,” said Alex. “Your mom and dad home?”
“Yeah. Yours?”
“Not yet.”
Silence crackled on the line. Alex swallowed hard, a sudden lump in his throat.
“Thanks for calling, Dougie. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Later.”
Alex hung up the phone and turned off the burners on the stove.
“Dinner’s ready,” he called, then smiled as Radar came padding in. Alex was about to drop a hot dog on the floor for him, but Radar caught it in mid-air and hoovered it down in one gulp, then looked expectantly at Alex to see what came next.
Radar got four more hot dogs that evening, while Alex and Nunu gobbled down their mac-and-cheese and hot dogs almost as fast as Radar. When they finished dinner, Alex wet the corner of his napkin in his glass and wiped Nunu’s face, just like his mother always did.
After dinner, Alex cleaned the pots and plates (with a little help from Radar’s tongue), while Nunu got her PJs on. Alex figured she’d put up a fight about bedtime, but Nunu was too tired to argue. She could barely stop yawning long enough to brush her teeth.
Alex followed Nunu into the bedroom and over to her pink bed. There were dolls lying over the flight line, but he let it go. It didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.
Nunu yawned and climbed into bed. Alex shut off the light, then pulled up the covers and tucked her in.
Nunu yawned again. “When’s Mommy coming home?”
“Soon.”
“And Daddy?”
Alex hesitated.
“Soon,” he replied.
“Alex? Are you sad?”
The question took him by surprise. Nunu was watching him with a serious expression.
I guess I’m still no good at keeping my feelings off my face, he thought.
“A little,” he answered.
“I know.”
“You do?” How could she know? He’d tried so hard to protect her from the terrifying news that day.
Nunu nodded gravely. “Mommy and Daddy forgot your birthday.”
Alex exhaled a sigh of relief.
Nunu frowned. “I’m mad at them.”
“Don’t be mad.”
“But I am.”
“Please, Nunu. Please don’t be mad at them. I’m not. See? They didn’t forget. They’re just running late. They’ll be here soon. Okay?” He pulled the covers up. “Now just go to sleep.”
She kicked them off. “No. I’m not sleepy.”
Alex laughed. “Yes, you are.”
“No.”
“You haven’t stopped yawning since we got home.”
She shook her head and rubbed her eyes.
“But it’s bedtime,” he pleaded.
“NO,” she said firmly.
“C’mon, Nunes. Just go to sleep.”
“NO! You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not Daddy!”
Then she burst into tears and buried her head in the pillow.
“I want Daddy…” she wailed.
Alex felt totally overwhelmed. He sat on the edge of the bed, nervously bouncing his leg and holding his ears in frustration. He wanted to run away. He wanted Nunu to stop crying. He wanted his dad to come home. He wanted everything to be back to normal.
Then it hit him: that’s all Nunu wanted, too.
Alex remembered what their father always did at bedtime. He closed his eyes and pictured his dad just home from work, sitting on the edge of Nunu’s bed, the sleeves of his wrinkled white shirt rolled up, his strong hands working their magic as they led Nunu into sleep.
Alex opened his eyes. He reached out, just like his father, and quietly began to stroke Nunu’s head. Nunu shifted on her pillow, unburying her face. Alex continued to brush her hair with his fingers, drawing his hand across her forehead in long, slow strokes, barely touching her, as soft as if he were petting a baby bird. Nunu’s breathing began to slow. Alex leaned down close to her ear.
And then, quiet as a whisper, Alex began to sing.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
“You make me happy, when skies are gray.
“You’ll never….”
He paused, waiting for her to chime in. This was always her favorite part. But Nunu had drifted off.
So Alex sang it for her.
“…know, dear, how much I love you.
“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
Then he bent down and kissed Nunu softly on the head.
CHAPTER 38
Night
8:31 p.m.
Mac stood at the kitchen counter waiting for the coffee to brew. It was his fourth pot of the day. The doctors had told him to lay off the caffeine, but he figured they’d make an exception for today.
He breathed in the steam, thinking back to the first pot of the morning. He pictured Bobby coming into the kitchen in his crisp white shirt, sleeves unbuttoned, jack
et slung over his arm. They drank their coffee in comfortable silence, the way they always did, Mac with the Sports section, Bobby reading Business. Then Bobby checked his watch, stood up, and shrugged on his coat.
“See ya tonight, Pop.”
And then he was gone.
The coffeemaker beeped. Mac opened his eyes and poured himself a cup. From behind the counter, he had a perfect view out the window to the corner at the end of the street. Before dementia clouded her mind, Dottie used to sit at the counter and watch for Bobby to come around that corner on his way home from work. Mac used to tease her about it, but the truth is he’d do the same thing, finding excuses to be in the kitchen so he could sneak a peek over her shoulder as he came and went.
Mac stared out the window for the hundredth time that day, then closed his eyes and tried to conjure up the scene—Bobby, coming around the corner, stepping into the yellow glow of the street lamp, the light on his white shirt like a ray of sunshine. Mac kept his eyes closed, trying to hold onto the image, trying to make it come true.
He realized he was making deals again. He didn’t care.
“Where’s Robert?”
Mac spun around so fast he spilled his coffee. Dottie was standing in her nightgown in the middle of the living room, gazing around with a troubled, quizzical expression. The house had been so quiet he’d almost forgotten she was back there.
“Hey there, kiddo. What are you doing up?” he asked quietly.
Dottie turned and looked at him. Mac couldn’t tell if she still recognized him or not, but she allowed him to lead her back down the hall to the bedroom. He pulled back the covers and helped her swing her legs up and into bed. She still seemed agitated, so he sat with her and stroked her hand, which always calmed her.
But not tonight.
“Where’s Robert?” she asked again.
Mac swallowed hard and looked out the window.
“He’s on his way home.”
CHAPTER 39
Vigil
8:31 p.m.
The Man in the White Shirt was the last one off the bus. As he stepped down to the street, he turned back to the driver and nodded.
“Have a safe night,” he said.
“Um, yeah,” the driver mumbled. “You too,” he added, a little more brightly.
The driver waited for him to cross in front of the bus before pulling slowly away from the curb and heading off in the other direction. Before long, the bus rounded a curve and vanished from sight.
The Man in the White Shirt was surprised by how quiet it was, so close to the center of town. The streets were empty, the restaurants closed. Then he realized why: everyone had gone home.
As he turned down a lane full of small, tidy houses, he could see lights on in every window, and people sitting in those windows, looking up and down the street. Neighbors huddled in small groups on the sidewalk. Old men sat on their porches. He felt their eyes searching him as he passed, trying to place him, to see if they knew him.
Everywhere he looked people were watching, waiting.
Sitting vigil.
Mac sat on his porch stoop, nursing a mug of coffee that had long ago gone cold. Beside him sat the model plane he’d been flying that afternoon. He idly spun the propeller as he glanced up at the street corner.
Still nobody there.
Then he heard footsteps, coming from the other direction.
He leaned forward. The street was darker at that end, and he squinted into the shadows. He could just make out the silhouette of a person, coming closer. But as they passed in front of his house, he saw it was a woman, the lawyer who lived four doors down. She waved. He waved and forced a smile, trying to hide his disappointment.
Then he settled back on his elbows again to wait.
Alex pushed the curtains back and peered out the front window again.
Still nobody.
Behind him, Radar whimpered. Alex watched him circle the big lounger again, sniffing at it furiously and whining in frustration. He’d been calm after dinner, but now he was agitated again, pacing and whining constantly.
“I told you, that’s Dad’s chair.”
Alex started toward the living room, ready to defend the chair again, but Radar pushed past him and hurried to the front door. He pawed the door and scratched at the frame, still whimpering like mad.
“Ohhhh. Gotta go, boy?” Suddenly, it made sense.
Radar whimpered again.
Alex unlocked the door and swung it open for Radar to go do his business.
The second the door opened, Radar bolted.
“NO!”
Alex took out after Radar, but the dog shot away like a rocket. He bounded across the yard at top speed, jumped the neighbor’s hedge, then hit the ground and kept on going. Alex chased him to the corner, but Radar was already long gone, blocks away and out of sight.
Just like that.
“Radar. RADAR!!”
No way, thought Alex. What happened?? It can’t be over. I can’t lose him, just like that. He looked back at the house, where he could see the light from inside spilling out his front door. He couldn’t just let Radar go. But he couldn’t leave his sister alone.
“RA - DARRRR!!!”
Alex stood on the corner, listening for a bark, a whine, anything. He listened until his shout died off into echoes.
And then there was nothing. Silence.
Radar was gone, vanished into the darkness.
The Man in the White Shirt detoured into the big city park. He figured the shortcut would save him nearly a half-hour.
What he hadn’t counted on was that it would be so dark. Usually, there were ball games out here under the lights; but tonight, the fields were empty, the lights out. He didn’t want to admit it, but halfway through the park, he got a little spooked.
He was crossing the baseball field at the edge of the woods when he heard something moving through the brush. He froze, listening.
Ten yards away, he saw a figure emerge from the woods.
A dog.
No collar. Probably a stray. The Man in the White Shirt didn’t move a muscle. The dog saw him anyway. It paused, staring back. It was big and had some kind of bandage on its ear. It cocked its head, watching him, then loped away.
The Man in the White Shirt breathed a sigh of relief, chuckling at his own jumpy nerves, and continued on his way.
Alex felt numb. He still couldn’t believe that Radar was gone.
So he tried not to think about it and got busy cleaning the kitchen. He wiped down the table and vacuumed under Nunu’s chair. He dried the dishes and put them away in the cabinet. He scooped the leftovers into a plastic bin and opened the refrigerator to stow them inside.
And came to a complete halt.
There, on the bottom shelf, sat his birthday cake. The one his mom had made for tonight. “Tower to A-Dawg,” it read, in green icing, “Happy Birthday!!!”
Alex had been told a zillion times not to stand there with the refrigerator door open, but he couldn’t help it. He stared at the cake as an idea slowly took shape in his mind. When he was sure what he wanted to do, he slammed the door and headed off with purpose.
He was a man with a plan.
He hurried to the pantry and found the bag of birthday decorations his mom had bought. He grabbed some scissors and tape, dumped the decorations on the kitchen table, and got to work.
Twenty minutes later, the job was done. The banner was complete.
He carried the banner into the living room and stood on a kitchen chair to pin it to the drapes. When it was hanging straight, he stepped back to examine the finished product.
Behind him, a key slid into the front door.
Alex spun around.
The door swung open.
And there stood his mom.
She took two steps into the room, then stopped short, taking in Alex and the banner and the TV news in the background, and she knew he knew everything.
“Oh, Alex,” she said, as she pulled him into he
r arms and started to cry.
The Man in the White Shirt kept up a steady pace now as he crossed the tall bridge that stretched over a railroad yard and a narrow river. He paused briefly in the center, the highest point, where he could see all the way to Manhattan, glittering like a jewel right down to its southern tip, which remained dark, and empty.
Then he lowered his head and pushed on.
Mac paced the living room, clutching the remote tightly in his fist. The walls flicked from black to blue to black to blue as he ticked through the TV channels, one after another after another.
But the story was always the same.
Alex’s mom sat on the sofa, the light from the muted TV flickering on her face. She was still in her nurse’s uniform; she hadn’t even bothered to change. After checking on Nunu, who was still asleep, she had collapsed on the couch with her arm around Alex. They hadn’t said much since she’d been home. They’d just held onto each other.
“Mom?”
She thought he’d fallen asleep.
“Yes?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She paused a long time before answering. Then she told him the truth.
“I didn’t think you could handle it.”
She looked around her, at the dishes drying in the kitchen, the banner hanging on the curtain, the door to the bedroom where Nunu was sleeping, safe and sound.
“I guess I was wrong.”
The Man in the White Shirt was close now. A car zoomed past him and stopped hard in front of a house up the block. A man in his fifties jumped out of the car with the speed of a guy half his age and ran to the front porch, taking the steps two at a time as someone inside flung open the front door, bathing him in golden light.
The Man in the White Shirt smiled to himself, knowing he would be there soon.
Mac picked up the phone and dialed again. Someone once told him the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. But Mac knew he’d go crazy if he didn’t keep trying.