The Opposite of Maybe: A Novel

by Dawson, Maddie

  The animals’ dreams. Rosie likes that. Tony says he didn’t get the animals’ dreams; he claims he had dreams that he was in a medieval torture chamber being stuck with swords, and when he woke up, he realized his air mattress had deflated and there was a rock sticking in his back.

  Rosie laughs. Everything seems so wonderful this morning. She doesn’t even get scared when Soapie seems confused yet again about why Milo isn’t staying permanently and says, “But I thought he was the reason you were painting the room. I can’t keep up with anything.”

  “It’s fine,” says Rosie.

  “But I want to stay,” Milo assures her, and then looks over at Tony with hope in his eyes.

  “Not this time, buddy,” Tony says. “In fact, we have to get on the road. I told your mama I’d have you back by noon.”

  Rosie can feel how nervous Tony is all the way back to Annie’s house. He’s made sure that Milo’s face and clothes are clean and that everything is packed into his little suitcase just the way it was. He doesn’t want her to have one tiny thing to object to.

  As it turns out, it’s Dena who happens to be at home when they arrive. Rosie remembers her from that glimpse at the Starbucks so long ago, the woman who got up from the table abruptly and walked away. But this Dena, rosy and blond with a tangle of curly hair, looks relaxed and pleased, and she greets Tony and Milo with hugs and shakes Rosie’s hand.

  “Oops, wait a minute,” she says. “I have to make sure this is the very same boy we gave you, and that you didn’t give us a different, inferior one.” She pretends to search in Milo’s ears and in the crooks of his elbows, while he laughs and tries to squirm out of her reach. “Okay,” she declares. “I’d know that wiggle anywhere. It’s the same boy. Did you have fun, sport?”

  He tells her all about Kid City and sleeping outside, jumping up and down while he talks. Rosie expects that Dena will look irritated at all this boy energy, but she doesn’t. She smiles at him and then mouths to Tony, “Our time off was wonderful.”

  “You see?” Rosie says to him when they’re back on the road. “A great precedent has been set. Everything is working out great. You can probably now get Milo anytime you want.”

  “Soapie’s not going to put up with him being there a lot,” he says.

  “Soapie? She thought he was living there permanently,” she says.

  “You’re sure in a good mood.”

  So she tells him then about Jonathan’s phone call and how he’s reconsidered his whole position on fatherhood and the baby.

  “Is he coming back?” Tony wants to know.

  “Well … no, he can’t come back,” she says. “He’s coming for Christmas, but then, once Soapie goes into a nursing home, I’m going to move out there. Like I was before.”

  Tony stays silent.

  “It’s just that now I know the baby is going to have a father around. I have to tell you, I was so sad last night after you guys went in the tent. I was thinking my baby will never, ever get to have that kind of experience. With a dad.”

  “And now all that’s changed?” he says.

  She laughs, trying to picture Jonathan sleeping in a tent with their child. “Well, it’s better,” she says. “I won’t be by myself at least.”

  “He’s a mensch, all right,” Tony says.

  “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “No, no. Lots of guys take seven weeks to decide if they’re going to stand by their girlfriend when she’s having their baby. I’m sure he’s even ahead of schedule from some guys.”

  “Come on,” she says. “It’s progress.”

  “I know.” He reaches over and pats her knee. “I shouldn’t be this way. It’s great. He’s going to end up being a really good father. I can tell.”

  She looks at him.

  “No, he is. Truly. You and Beanie will do your magic on him. This guy’s toast.” He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride home.

  [twenty-one]

  “I have an interesting idea,” says Tony one morning about a week later. They are standing in the kitchen, fixing breakfast. She’s making a kale omelet with goat cheese and sundried tomatoes, and she is explaining to him how this omelet alone is going to provide, like, four hundred nutrients that her baby needs. And he is pouring a cup of coffee into which he proceeds to load three tablespoons of sugar and, oh, nearly a half cup of whipping cream.

  “I don’t really like the taste of coffee,” he explains when he sees her looking at him with her eyes bulging out. “Try not to be jealous.”

  “And you try not to be jealous of my kale omelet,” she says. “Unless you would like me to make you one, too.”

  “Um, no thanks. I may have to eat a jelly doughnut later, just to confer for having been in the same room with this omelet.”

  “Come on now. You’ve gone too far. You know confer doesn’t go in that sentence.”

  He laughs. “I know. I’m trying to butter you up so you’ll go along with this idea. I want you to come with me to Fairfield.”

  “No, no, no, Tony! You don’t need to go spy on Milo anymore. I told you that the two mommies have seen your truck.”

  “No, it’s to a teacher conference. Totally on the up-and-up.”

  “But why do you need me there?”

  “Because—okay, I didn’t want to tell you this. But Annie called me up, and she said she’s going to file for divorce, and—”

  “Oh, no!”

  “No, it’s time. We’re not reconciliating, I know that,” he says. “But she’s worried that I might try to get custody or something, so she said Milo can’t come here anymore on a regular basis. She says Dena wants it to look like they have the house and the stability, as if I’m just some kind of unsettled guy. At least that’s what I think she said. My head was exploding while she was talking to me.”

  “Oh my God. But she was so nice, when we took him back! And then she goes and does this? What do you think happened?”

  “Nothing happened. That’s the way this goes. It’s Dena, just trying to stake out her claim. And so they went to the teacher conference already, and God knows what they said about me to that teacher, and I need to have my side represented. And if you come in with me, looking like a good English teacher and a stand-up member of the community with your nice pregnant belly—well, I think she won’t think I’m such a dumb guy. Also,” he says, “teacher conferences are gonna be something you might need to know about. Since you’re gonna have some in your future. This could give you a real leg up.”

  “Ah.”

  The conference is scheduled for right after school. Can she make it? Actually, she can’t, she tells him. She has an OB appointment at four thirty. But he’ll do fine, even without her there.

  But this just makes him open his eyes wide and stand up straighter. “Perfect,” he says. “We’ll do the teacher thing with Milo, and then zoom back to New Haven for the OB visit. I haven’t gotten to meet your OB yet. And George says he can be here all day with Soapie.”

  “No,” she says. “You aren’t meeting Dr. Stinson. That is unnecessary.”

  “Just kidding,” he says. “I’ll wait in the waiting room. Unless, if they were going to do an ultrasound for any reason, in which case, I would be happy to be invited in.”

  “There won’t be an ultrasound this visit. And no just getting up and coming with me into the exam room like you did with the amnio.”

  “Wasn’t that nice, though, that I was there? Didn’t you end up really needing me?”

  “I did,” she says. “And it was nice.”

  He makes a pleading face at her.

  “Okay,” she says with a sigh. “I’ll go with you.”

  The elementary school that Milo attends is just like the one Rosie had attended: a nice, low-slung, concrete-block suburban school with a big green lawn, playing fields, a circular driveway, and white-and-tan tile floors and mint green walls all decorated with bulletin boards and posters about how fun reading is. From the gym, they can hear a whist
le blowing and the sound of kids laughing and running.

  “This place gives me the willies,” Tony says as they walk down the hall. “Listen, the real reason I want you here?” he whispers. “I don’t want to get all explainy about my stupid life, you know, how I used to live there with the two of ’em, you know? And how I drive to Fairfield all the time, okay? And how I don’t have a real job right now. If you hear me start to say inappropriate things, will you just interrupt or something?”

  “I’ll try,” she says.

  “Good. I just want to look respectable, like good dad material.”

  The kindergarten room has a bank of windows with construction paper autumn leaves stuck on them, and little tables with chairs for eight children at each. There’s a circle area with a rug, and a felt board with a sun, a rain cloud, snowflakes, and raindrops, all ready to be pressed into their meteorological duties. And best of all, there is Miss Minton, according to the sign on the board, striding toward them wearing leggings and a long red sweater, with her black hair cut in a sharp angled bob.

  “Come in! Come in!” she says, smiling like a girl in a shampoo ad, Rosie thinks. “You’re Milo’s dad, and …?”

  “I’m just Rosie, a friend.”

  “How nice,” she says. “I met Milo’s mom and her partner last week, and I’m always so glad to meet the other pair, as well.”

  “Oh, no, we’re not—” she begins, but Tony has already plopped himself down in one of those ridiculously little kindergarten chairs Miss Minton is pointing to, and is leaning forward, tenting his fingers and tapping his thumbs together. “Must make for a lot more conferences these days, what with so many kids having two homes,” he says.

  “That’s true,” says Miss Minton, still smiling steadily. “But I really don’t mind. It’s important for me to understand my students’ lives and everybody who’s important to them. Shall we?” She brings out a folder of work that Milo has done, including a portrait of his family. “So, you’ve been divorced for how long?” she asks. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Um, well, it’s complicated,” says Tony. He licks his lips. “We’re just separated now. But she just told me she’s filing the papers. So …” He shrugs. “Who knows what’s up for us? I told her that I won’t fight her on things, but that I want to make sure she gives me a lot of time with my son. Which hasn’t been happening so much, so I really wanted to be here, you know, to see how he’s doing and stuff.”

  Rosie slides her foot over to his and nudges his sneaker, and he shuts up.

  “These things are always complicated,” Miss Minton says, and waits to see if he wants to say more. When he doesn’t, she opens the folder. “Well,” she says, “he’s clearly adorable, and he’s very smart, and he’s energetic and engaged here. He seems to like coming to school, and he’s making lots of friends. The other kids like him.”

  “But?”

  “But what?”

  “I hear a but coming. Is something wrong?”

  “No, no, nothing’s wrong. It’s all new to him, that’s all. It’s a breaking-in period. First weeks of kindergarten, we’re just trying to get them all comfortable.”

  “And is he?”

  “Yes, I’d, ah, say he’s more or less comfortable. Mostly.”

  “What’s the matter then?”

  “Tony,” says Rosie.

  “No, she’s acting like something’s wrong, and I know something’s wrong, and I think I know what it is, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

  Miss Minton opens her eyes a bit wider. “If there’s something …”

  Tony leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, letting his hands fall. “Look, I gotta level with you. It’s tough right now. His mom, as you know, has this partner who’s kind of … well, she’s a child life specialist or something, and she thinks that they’ve got to prove they’re the main parents. She doesn’t want me around much.”

  Rosie clears her throat, but he pats her knee to quiet her and goes on.

  “Now, I myself like both of them. They’re great moms, but I’m trying to have a relationship with my son. A real relationship. I’ve supported them and helped them, and I respect them for what they’re trying to do, but it’s getting all legal-ish, and I don’t want to lose out on getting custody of my son. I want a place in his life.”

  “Tony,” says Miss Minton. “It’s okay. You absolutely need a place in his life.”

  “And I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

  “You have to have a place in his life. It’s very important that he knows how much you love him.”

  “I call him every day, and I—I’m on time for visitation, but just this past week—well, that was the first time all summer they’d let me take him away from their house, and even then it was because Rosie here made all the arrangements. It’s like I’m gonna steal him or something, and I’m not. I just—I just—”

  “Look, look,” says Miss Minton. She opens the folder and shows him the picture Milo drew of his family. There’s a picture of Annie with spiky hair, right in the center, and then a picture of Milo himself, standing right next to her, and then next to Annie on the other side is Dena, with squiggly long lines for hair. Way off to the side, and drawn in a tiny, spidery way, is a stick figure with a big rectangle next to the round head.

  “That’s you,” says Miss Minton. “See? You’re in the picture. That’s you on the phone.”

  “That’s how he sees me? I’m that little wavy guy on the phone?” Tony says. He looks away, unable to speak just then. Rosie wants to reach over and touch him, but she doesn’t dare.

  “But here’s the thing you should know,” says Miss Minton, looking at his face. “He talks about you all the time and how you call him every day. He adores you. When he was going to visit you last weekend, he told everybody. Even the lunch ladies knew he was going to stay at his dad’s house, and then that Monday when he came back to school, he talked about sleeping outside in a tent and how you let him have apple pancakes. It was a big deal. A really big deal.”

  Tony’s nose gets red. He looks up at the ceiling.

  “A lot of these kids don’t even get to talk to their dads on the phone,” she goes on in her silky voice, like she’s somebody who doesn’t know she’s got a guy just about to burst into tears right in front of her. Or maybe she doesn’t mind seeing grown men cry, Rosie thinks. “A lot of dads don’t even get included in the family portrait! Really. Sometimes it’s because of divorce, but a lot of times it’s just that they’re working so many hours and they don’t have time to see their kids,” Miss Minton says. “Milo is one of those kids who knows he’s loved, but he misses you a lot.”

  “He misses me,” he says flatly.

  She nods. “Yeah. He’s a little sad, I think.”

  Tony hits his fist into his other palm and gets up, taking a ragged breath that Rosie is sure will turn into a sob if they stay any longer. “Thank you, Miss Minton. Thank you very much.”

  “Call me Amelia. And listen,” she says quickly, “life is messy for kids, and that’s just the way it is these days. And it’s okay. The important thing is that you give him lots of love and that he knows he can count on you. That’s the whole secret to parenthood: showing up. Don’t give up. If you have time to volunteer in the classroom, that could be another way you get face time with him, maybe.”

  “Okay,” he says. “That would be better than what I do now, which is driving around seeing him in the playground. But then I can’t talk to him because I’m in the car.”

  Rosie reaches over and touches him again, more insistently this time. Miss Minton turns to her. “And Milo talked about you, too. He said you and he were going to make diamonds? In the microwave?”

  “You are?” says Tony.

  “Well,” says Rosie. “I’m afraid I’m not a permanent person in his life. I’m just a friend, while Tony is taking care of my grandmother who is dying … long story short, my boyfriend lives in California, and I’m supposed to join him, bu
t then for the longest time he wasn’t sure if he can handle having a baby, because we sort of never talked about it, but now … well, he thinks he can … but we weren’t sure with my grandmother dying, only now she’s going into a nursing home, and now the baby is coming, but now it looks like I’ll be leaving …” She stops talking and wipes her nose, which has started to drip a little, and says, “Yes. Diamonds in the microwave. We’re using peanut butter.”

  “Wow! Well, I think we did superbly,” she says to Tony on their way out to the car. “We didn’t reveal anything odd about our personal lives whatsoever! Clearly we’re totally sane.”

  “I was afraid you were going to tell her about the condom breaking in another minute or so,” he says.

  “And I was afraid you were going to be sobbing on the desk in another minute,” she says. “Also, for the record, it didn’t break. Don’t you remember? He forgot to put one on. I told you.”

  He opens the car door and slides in. “Not for nothing, but how does a guy forget to put a condom on? Not that it’s any of my business, but there just aren’t that many responsibilities guys have, and if they don’t want kids, that’s pretty much job one.”

  “Long story,” she says. “Oh my God. I feel like I’ve got to call Jonathan right this second and tell him how important he is to our kid. I had no idea! He’s got to step up his game like a thousand percent.”

  “Yeah,” says Tony. “Fathers. We’re what it’s all about.”

  “Jesus.”

  “So,” he says after another minute, “so that was our dry run. When we get to the OB office, we’ll try to hold it together better.”

  “Ohhhhh no, you are so not coming in with me.”

  But of course, before he can drive out of town, he is constitutionally incapable of not driving by Milo’s babysitter’s house just so he can make sure Milo got there all right. And sure enough, they get a glimpse of him in the backyard, standing next to another boy, a little red-haired kid. The two of them are looking at a shrub, and they have something in their hands.