They eat in a jolly pub with candles and mounted antlers on the walls. There are probably a hundred people in this tiny place, but it doesn’t feel too noisy. Just warm.
Liam puts his hands on hers. “You told her I hit you?”
“No. She’s looking out for me. I’m sorry about before.”
Liam brings out a little box. “Listen, I don’t think we’ll need her help. Marla,” he says, and stands only to bend down on one knee, “I want to marry you.”
She jumps up and knocks her plate onto the floor. “Yes!” she shrieks, holding her hand out for him to put the ring on. She’s kind of shaking. It’s like everything she imagined it would be and more.
A waiter stoops to collect her upended plate. “I’m getting married,” Marla tells him. People at tables near them applaud until Marla feels like the queen of the universe.
Liam grips her hand. “We can get married in the summer, after the baby’s born.”
“Are you saying you want the baby?”
Liam does not look at her the way a man in a movie would, with passion fogging up his eyes. He sits, smoothing his napkin on his lap. “Marla, it’s my child. If you’re set on having the baby, I should be a part of it.” He swallows and corrects himself. “I want to be a family. I want you to move in with me.”
Marla is sorting this out, reconfiguring her mental image of being a mommy onto Liam’s house, with his bed and his instruments and his students, which would totally be cleaner and quieter but completely without Dani. Marla remembers the last time Dani was on her own. “Sure, as soon as Dani can get her own place, I’m in.”
“Why do you owe her? What is she about?”
“It’s ugly, okay? You know her story.”
Liam sets his jaw and leans on his elbows. “I don’t know your part in it.”
Marla can’t get into that, so she focuses on the edge in his voice and how it bangs into the warm space of the restaurant. “She helps me.”
“She’s dragging you down.”
No one should be insulting Dani, especially not someone who is also supposed to be looking out for Marla. “Why did you hit me with that cupboard door? Because I read your letters?”
Liam speaks in a low voice. “You’re accusing me of beating my pregnant girlfriend. That’s the sort of man you think I am?”
“I didn’t deserve that.”
“You know it was an accident.” Liam snaps the ring box closed and grips the edge of the table, his voice an angry whisper. “Let me get this straight: you’re twenty-three and you work at a diner and you’re saying no to a father for your baby because of your junkie friend? And you think I hit you?” People at the next table erupt in totally unrelated laughter.
“Twenty-two. I’m twenty-two.”
A waitress brings them a floating candle while someone else dims the lights. Marla tries to collect all the thoughts in her head, but Liam is totally bent on whisper-fighting with her. “I want to know—did you do it on purpose?”
Marla scrapes her nails under the table, scratching off grains of wood. “Get pregnant? No!”
“I thought it was so you could unload Dani and live with me, but now I think you did it to punish me. Talking you out of an abortion. You’ll be rolling in child support, laughing it up together.” He has a hurt look on his face like he actually believes that.
“You didn’t even want the baby until an hour ago.”
“You’re right.”
“Listen: Dani’s not my girlfriend, and she’s got her own money—”
“How? Is she a drug dealer too?”
Liam doesn’t understand that it is Dani who gives Marla the courage to do everything difficult, Dani who told her it would be hard, but manageable. Dani who doesn’t talk in riddles and so obviously loves Marla that it scares her a bit. “You don’t get it at all!” People murmur and stare, and now Marla is the trashy girl at the nice restaurant again.
“No. And I won’t.” The waiter edges by, and Liam pulls on his earlobe. “Don’t do this here.”
“Do what—figure it out? That’s what everyone’s doing.” She makes her voice calm and looks him in the eye.
He looks around the room to see if anyone is looking at them, but they’re trying not to. She waits, which is what she should have done in the other restaurant when she told him about the baby. He’s off balance, but if she can be confident, he’ll feel her strength and meet her halfway. His face moves, and she lets him work it out, practising her patience.
It’s true. He leans closer, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I’m under a lot of stress,” he says, like he’s apologizing that she has to see him this way. “Look. I believe you, and I shouldn’t have said all that, especially about the baby. But you need to know I’d never hurt you. Otherwise this can’t work.”
Marla pushes her new plate away. The smell of ketchup is making her nauseous. “Fair enough. I like you, Liam, but you have to like me too.”
“Good. Then we’re engaged.” He leans back in his chair and signals for the bill.
“I’m talking about all of me.”
Liam pauses with his arm in the air. “Marla, I love you, and I will marry you and raise our child. But, just to be clear, I’m not marrying Dani too.” He stands up, thin and beautiful and impossible. “You have to make a choice—the sooner, the better.”
It’s like something he will check off his list, at first: an experience to have. But the way she takes her shirt off, and the paleness of the skin at her throat changes everything, sharpens it until there is nothing but flesh and pleasure and hunger.
Gavin has never been with a woman, and yet Dani makes it so easy he’s not even nervous. She is gentle first, taking time to admire his body, feel each part and pleasure it with such care and attention that he feels flawless. When he embraces her, he understands that his body has been made for this work; it knows this song, and so does Dani’s. He holds onto her, her weight like an anchor, a reminder that she is real and has asked this of him, something he can do without hearing. He looks in her eyes and feels that delicious sense of inevitability that lets him know he can stop worrying and just be. Just do.
It’s late when they wake up. The dog’s whining, so Gavin pulls his T-shirt and underwear on and lets him out, then grabs his notepad, knowing he needs to see himself think. But what should he say?
Dani crushes pills and snorts them. “Did you put your panties on because you want me to go?”
It’s hard to write sense with a naked woman doing drugs in his bed. He looks around for her clothes, a bra at least, but she pulls him closer before he can find anything. MARLA CAN’T KNOW.
Dani traces his nipple. “She told me not to get involved with you. Said you were a child.”
Gavin is forced to hesitate. YOU KNOW I’M NOT.
Dani runs a finger up his thigh. “Not now, anyway. We’re lovers.”
He’s been telling himself this was a one-time thing—that Dani was just bored and lonely— because being so uncovered and present is inviting judgment he can’t handle. Love is something else entirely. She reaches her hand under his waistband. He steps back. WAIT, PLS.
“There’s nothing wrong with us fucking.”
BUT DON’T KNOW YOU V. WELL. That is the nicest way he can put it. He’s a little bit afraid of Dani—her violent anger towards Liam, her secretive thing with Marla, the seamless way she has enveloped him.
“I won’t bite you, I don’t think.” She pulls him down and kisses him instead.
In that kiss is the certainty that Gavin’s old life with his little apartment in Belleville and his job looking after Stephen at the care home are so far away as to be another, lesser reality. The thought is puzzling yet liberating. He belongs in this hearing world that he was yanked out of so long ago. These people are his people. This person.
MARLA HERE TOMORROW.
�
�So, love me until then.” He lies with her, and she traces his collarbone with her index finger. “Love me.”
8. BURGER
POEM FOR DANI
Without sound you’d be like me: stretching
in the morning curled toes flexed arms reaching
for the headboard to pull against, eyes closed
keeping it in, this moment all body bliss
just the right tension and the air so still,
then opening to sneeze in the sunshine
blink
now look to see if the door is open, if someone is there, talking
and you’ve missed everything
After their scene in the restaurant the night before, Marla decides to make the most of her and Liam’s Dani-free vacation. There’s no need to tell him now that of course Dani’s always going to be in her life. She’ll get her own place soon, and everything will be fine.
Marla doesn’t mind the wind and the swirling snow on the mountain—it makes the nausea less noticeable. She balances against the car to step into her rented snowshoes, and Liam straps her feet in. They walk slowly up the trail, Liam behind.
“Keep your feet further apart,” he calls to her after she almost trips herself.
“What, like this?” Marla assumes a sumo stance and hulks forward until she does fall over. Liam reaches his pole out to pull her up, laughing. When she rights herself, she swats him and says, “Catch me if you can.”
Liam gives her a head start, but even so, it takes him no time to reach her. He tags her on the butt. “You’re sticking your rear end out too far.”
“Only because you like it.”
At noon, Liam spreads a blanket on the snow for her, and they eat sandwiches wrapped in wax paper that he made in the morning—ham with red onions, mustard, and that crumbly cheese he likes. “Did you buy all this stuff before I got up?” she asks with her mouth full.
He smiles at her, shy.
As the afternoon fades into winter grey, Marla worries about how far they’ve gone, but Liam has it all plotted out. “We’re actually going in a circle,” he tells her, showing her on his laminated map.
“So, we’re almost there?”
“Exactly.”
Once they get in the car Marla is too tired to keep her eyes open, so she doesn’t realize Liam has brought her to the hot springs until they’ve parked. “I have your suit packed,” he says, opening the car door for her.
“Liam, I can’t go in a hot spring. I’m pregnant.”
“Of course you can. Don’t be ridiculous.” He walks purposefully up the hill without looking back, and Marla jogs to catch up.
It’s really crowded because the ski hills have just closed for the day. Marla changes next to several other women with braided hair and tanned skin. Hollering kids. She hurries to the pool deck.
The thing is, Marla doesn’t exactly look pregnant yet, just puffy. Her middle has been pushed out, but it could easily be a liver disorder instead of a baby. She sucks it in and looks for Liam in the crowd.
He’s sitting away from the children jumping in the water. Marla smiles to herself: Liam showered without getting his hair wet, so he is the only person here with a perfect do. She sits beside him on the ledge and dribbles water into his curls.
“Marla!”
A mom glares at them, and Marla wipes her hands dry on her bathing suit. “It’s only water.”
“Will you get in?”
She stops herself from pointing out that all kinds of people are sitting on the ledge who might also be at the beginning of an invisible pregnancy when you can’t cook the baby and expect it to come out the same, never mind that there are a hundred people in the water, so Liam is certainly not sitting alone. So, the problem isn’t really Dani at all. She stays on the ledge. “I’m comfortable here.”
Liam raises himself out of the water. “We should go. It was a stupid idea.”
“No, stay. It’ll be fine.” She lifts her toes out of the water and lets them drip near his hand on the ledge. He looks at her, this animal look that breaks her heart, then moves his hand so the drips splash on it. “See?”
He slides back in and pours water from his cupped hand onto her knee. “That’s the difference between you and me: you like chaos and mess.”
“No. I just accept them.”
I’m wonder woman now.
What does that mean, honey?
getting married to superman.
Liam? Congratulations. That’s a great first step.
who else?
Gavin and Dani get off the C-train at Marlborough and can’t take a bus because Dani jumped the train and so doesn’t have a transfer, won’t let him pay. Across the street a mid-level mall slumps against a tired neighbourhood: duplex after duplex, each the same rectangular shape with a lattice separating the front doors. A couple of the nicer ones have balconies with enough room for a couple of bikes to be chained to them. They walk to Penbrooke Meadows, passing a man who taps ice from his parking spot, while inside his living room a huge dog chews the blinds and snaps its jaws in big doggy woofs.
This morning, Dani called all the C. Parker and plain Parker numbers for him until she heard the right name on the voicemail. The spare and high-density complex that matches the address he wrote down is done up with peeling blue trim. There is no balcony, and the basement windows have security bars.
Gavin knocks on the door. He is afraid that it really is this easy, that his mom might be here and living in a house with a phone but unwilling to talk to him. That he’ll find her and hug her and go home.
No one answers. Dani cruises the perimeter, peering in the stuffed mailbox and kicking the rusty mini trampoline standing sideways in a snow bank. “I used to live a few blocks over,” she tells him.
Gavin sits on the steps to write a note, angry with the way his writing looks calm on the page. DEAR MOM. WHERE ARE YOU? He scratches it out and tries over. CANDACE. THIS IS GAVIN, YOUR SON. He writes his number, and then crumples it up. He punches a can of butts, and it rolls on the ground, dirty water spilling out.
“Whoa, there, tiger.”
Gavin peers in the window, looking at the ragged curtain, the dried-up hydrangea on the table. HATE THIS. Dani nods and helps him pick up the butts. He puts the jar back and leaves his name and number tucked inside the door.
As they go, a neighbour in a housecoat waves in his face. “What … deaf?” She’s exasperated.
Dani smirks. Gavin pulls out a card and lets the neighbour woman read it. He writes, DO YOU KNOW CANDACE PARKER?
“… watching her place. You are?”
HER SON. GAVIN.
She takes a step back, looks at him, distrusting. “Never said nothing about no son.”
WHERE IS SHE?
The housecoat woman looks at Gavin like he is an imbecile. “Rehab. Where else?”
Shopping list:
kale
garlic
olive oil
Cayenne pepper
hemp seeds
ginger
honey
eggs
flowers
Gavin sets the table pretty for Marla because he feels guilty: tablecloth he bought at the thrift store, matching plates. Tea with honey for the ladies.
He scrambles eggs and steams kale with garlic. Arms around his waist, Dani’s hand on his groin. He jumps back, spatula in hand. MARLA CD SEE.
“So?” Dani licks her lips. “What’s for breakie?”
She already has her plate so he serves her, sprinkling hemp seeds on her kale. She gives him a bemused grin and eats her eggs standing up, wedged in the corner by the stove.
Gavin glances at the flowers on the table, the teapot in its tea cozy, the cutlery just so. SHD WAIT?
Dani says something with her mouth full that Gavin can’t underst
and, especially with her looking over his shoulder. He turns and beams at Marla. He flips his notepad back to his prewritten greeting. WELCOME HOME. I MADE YOU BREAKFAST.
Marla squeals, her face all scrunched up, and jumps into Gavin’s arms. He drops the spatula on the floor, and little pieces of scrambled egg glob here and there. “You are so amazing!”
He sets her down to write. WANTED DO NICE THING.
“… so perfect … because … getting married!” She turns to Dani and nods, talking with her hands, then back to Gavin. “Liam asked … our trip!”
Gavin hugs Marla. This is big news, adult stuff. He’ll probably be in the wedding party, maybe even the man who gives Marla away. He wonders when that will be, and how many hours it will take at the care home to earn enough to come back out here next year. Probably next year. Which reminds him to check his bank balance. Out the corner of his eye he sees Dani sliding her half-finished plate along the counter, slouchy and snarly.
GOOD NEWS. He holds it up, but Marla is busy interrupting Dani. He catches only pieces of the conversation.
“… asshole …”
“… seriously …”
“… make …”
“… about him …”
Gavin pushes his way between them with one arm on Dani’s shoulder and the other on Marla’s. He does a deaf-mute pantomime: hands over ears, headshake, hands over mouth, headshake.
“Sorry, Gavin,” Dani says. She tries a bite of kale and makes a bitter face. “What is this shit?”
KALE. HIGH IRON.
Marla tries some too. “Gavin, this is low on taste.”
He turns the stove burners off, not looking at her or Dani. Sometimes you can’t help people. And sometimes they make you feel like shit. He collects himself in the hallway, and when he joins them at the table with his own eggless plate they’ve finished and pushed their food away. Marla’s sipping tea. Gavin watches their mouths, waiting for them to include him.
A Handbook for Beautiful People Page 11