“Oh yeah, sorry. Sorry I’m just. Ugh, really stressed out, man. It’s, I don’t know what to do anymore things are just… Things are just not turning out the way I thought they would. Ever since I left the university it’s like, my life has been completely upside down. I’ve been losing focus. I mean, have you seen this house? I mean, look at it now. The place is strewn with garbage, there’s so many crumbs on the floor that an hour after I sweep and mop almost two thousand square feet of hardwoods—I can’t even walk over it barefoot without getting pierced by freakin’ cracker caltrops from God only knows what. And I love Emily, but she’s, just such a mess sometimes and I really wish, oh my God, I really wish Lillian would help out on this kind of stuff.” He took a long swig of Schlafly Pale Ale. “I mean…”
Lawrence had known Ryan before his life became about only cleaning floors. He leaned forward on his haunches from his place on the couch. “Look man, I love you and all, but that is some bull, white boy, first world problems. You got a good house here, Emily has a loving pair of sane parents—and that’s a biggie—that are wonderful to her. Y’all got food in the kitchen, y’all got a roof over your head. Heck, you got a really nice place that I could only dream to have. You worked at the university. You know what they pay professors and how much this neighborhood has inflated. I’m surprised y’all were able to get a house this nice. I’m surprised you were able to get one at all. Look at this place, dude, you have granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances! All Dana and I have is chopping block counters and the original fixtures installed the year I was born. We need to update bad.”
“You know we fixed this place up. It was a lot of hard work. And that granite, I got it direct from a quarry out of state. Had to drive it in the back of the Toyota and cut it myself.”
“I know. I know. And that’s great, but look at the positive, things are going good for you. Don’t screw that up because you hit a rough patch in your marriage. Shoot, I’ve been married for ten years, Dana and I have three kids, two of them girls, and you don’t think we’ve hit some rough patches? If you don’t, then you are definitely trippin’, son.”
Ryan paced the living room, weaving in and out of the couches and chairs, glancing from time to time down at Emily. “I know you have, Lawrence, I know. But, you guys just seem to work things out a lot better. A lot easier. Y’all have a magical fu—reakin’ relationship.”
“Yeah, that’s because we hit some rough patches and we started talking about things. Started talking about our issues. Not just one, not just the other, both of us. We came together and we spoke about our problems and we got it all out in the open. It wasn’t easy, but that’s the way you gotta make it happen. Together.”
“But the thing is, Lillian won’t talk about anything. She won’t talk about anything at all. You know, it’s just ever since she started working at UBL she just, she just goes there, and when she comes home, she’s exhausted and doesn’t want to talk to anybody about anything. I mean, she’s not even really spending a whole lot of time with Emily either. I feel like a single parent. And I don’t know what’s going on at work. She’s never been so tight lipped.” He let out a sigh and sagged. “And then it’s just Peter this and Peter that, and, Peter and I, blah blah blah. And I’m so tired of hearing about Peter. Freakin’ Peter, I mean, it used to be Ryan and I, used to be Ryan this and Ryan that. Look at what Ryan and I are doing! And Peter is the worst kind of person, he eats pizza crust first, drinks beer with a straw, and bites the end off a cheese stick instead of peeling it! I’m sure he even does the toilet paper under instead of over.”
Lawrence grinned. “I know man, this kind of stuff happens. And that’s rough, I feel ya, I really do. But it’s going to work itself out if you stick with it. If you stick with it.”
Ryan shook his head and widened his arms, signaling the start of a story. Lawrence settled back into the couch, took a sip of beer and scowled. Emily picked up part of the St. Louis Dispatch from earlier that day with the headline, “Albino Lion Cub Born today at St. Louis Zoo,” and set it back down.
“Ok, so I was trying to make a date happen for Lillian and I last Saturday night—”
“Mmmhmm.”
“—I’ve got my mom all set, ready to go and watch Emily for a few hours so Lillian and I can go get something to eat alone.”
“A good start.”
“I’ll take us to the Hill, eat at Gian-Tony’s, have some spaghetti and some wine, some toasted ravioli. Maybe go for a walk or something after.”
“Romantic.”
“Right? I thought it would be a great idea, you know, just give us a chance to de-charge and all that. Soon as I told her, she said, ‘I’m sorry babe, we can’t do Saturday night because I have to work.’ Work? Work! Well, what the heck can be happening at a lab on a Saturday night that can’t wait ‘til Monday morning? It’s not like her cultures are going anywhere. You know the first thought I had?”
“Mmmhmm. She could be doin’ Peter on Saturday night? All alone in that big, cold lab as the whirr of the mass spectrometer serenades their love limbo and samples their fluids.”
“You’re not helping, Lawrence.”
“Fine.”
“But you’re damn right, Peter on Saturday night. That was the first thing I thought about, and that’s terrible. It—it—it’s like she’s driving me to think things on purpose, to start considering actions I never thought that I could ever consider. I mean… I’m not a bad guy, I don’t want to do anything to hurt our relationship, but—”
“You’re starting to think a little about other ladies, huh?”
Ryan turned away, putting a hand over his face. He whispered, “Sometimes.”
“A little fence wine, maybe? Couple glasses shared with a neighbor mid-day?”
“Shut up.”
“You opened the door, friend.” He held up his open hands. “I just walked through.”
Emily giggled from the floor and started watching TV. Reruns of Sophia the First.
“It’s just,” Ryan went on, “sometimes I’m starting to think what our life would have been if she hadn’t taken the job at UBL and I had stayed on at WASHU. I mean, things were okay when I was working. Things were fine. The house was in order. We were happy, you know. Really happy. We were building something.”
“Yeah, because she was taking care of the house and did an incredible job. She’s an overachiever when it comes to such things.”
“Maybe so, maybe so. But, ugh, I just don’t know what to do, man. My mind is going places it shouldn’t. And, I don’t feel right about that. I—I, don’t feel right about that at all. I don’t know what to do.”
“Well look, let me tell you one thing, man. Your mind might be going places, and she might be pushing you in that direction somewhat, but you take any action it’s all on you. That’s your decision, not hers. I love you and everything, man, but if you take action, that’s your decision. She didn’t force you. If you end up cheating on her because she's not giving you enough poontang at home, or she’s too tired, too busy to give you attention, or heck, even if she’s sleeping with her boss, it’s your decision. Not hers. Yours. You’ll have to live with that. I know the kind of guy you are and it would eat you up on the inside like a cancer. You’re a good guy, and a good dad. If I’d had a dad half as good as you are, you think I’d have been working at that crap-hole university with you? I’d have been at MIT or Stanford. But, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy where I am.”
“I get you. I really do.”
“Look, you’re a good man and this is a loving house. You have to decide where that goes from here. I know you love Lillian. I know you do. If you had no feelings for her we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. You’d just forget about this, and do whatever it is your emotions deem fit at the time. But I know that ain’ the case. I’m proud of you. Proud of you for bein’ a good man.”
“All right. All right.”
“Now come on, let’s open another beer and watch
princesses save the world. If I remember right, this is the episode with the black butterflies and Rapunzel. Right, Emily?”
Emily smiled wide and extended her necklace at Lawrence. “Star!”
Ryan beamed at Emily and handed Lawrence another beer. His heart swelled three times when he saw her smile like that. It was like sunshine on a cold winter day, clean and warm, powerful enough to melt away snow drifts and replace them with glorious, green life.
“You know what I think about this?” Lawrence took a swig of his beer, pointing his index finger at Ryan as he set it back down in his lap. “The honest truth?”
Ryan’s stomach swirled. Lawrence had a way of seeing right into the truth of things, and that made him nervous. “What’s that?”
“I think you’re bored.” He threw up his hands and chuckled. “That’s right, I said it. I think being at home you’re not being challenged enough with the sort of intellectual stimulation you crave. That’s why your mind’s wandering. You’re afraid you’ll go soft in this place, you’re afraid you’ll grow dumb. You’ve spent all these years working in high tech, critical thinking positions and then was part of academia. You wrapped all your personal value up in that world, and now you’re not sure what to do when you’re not using your skills. Your wife used to pat you on the back for those skills. Your students and co-workers used to sing your praises, but now, you’re stuck at home and bored. You’ve gotten complacent and let things slip, and that’s easy to do when you have kids—believe me, it only gets worse. What you really want, is to feel special. We all want that. Well, let me tell you, sir, you are special. You see that kid right there? In her eyes, you hung the sun and the moon. She only has a thought for her mommy and daddy, nothing else matters. You want to make a change in this world? You raise that kid right. That’s how it’s done. The world is made a better place one family, one bright child at a time. Teach her to be smart, to think about what she says before she speaks. Teach her to love and look past what barriers society sets up against us. Teach her to be strong and not let anyone lord over her, or push her around. Teach her to be what you wish you could be, and inspire her to be even better. I promise if you do that, life will work itself out.”
Chapter 7
Ryan woke to the song of birds twittering outside Emily’s window. Birding, as they called it, was not one of his best outdoor skills, nor did he care to know more about it. Birds were pretty, sure, and he loved nature more than a computer science nerd probably should. He knew that birds were a necessary part of their ecosystem, scattering seeds and dealing with insects. Not to mention, he knew they made terrible pets. Nevertheless, he tolerated their activities well enough, that is, unless they were crows.
After watching “The Birds” when he was nine while staying at his uncle Bryan’s house, he’d been ruined on any variety of black bird—as well as the use of old style telephone booths. Crows were just evil eye peckers with wings. Loud bastards that seemed to enjoy congregating in his backyard every time the seasons changed. Super. He’d considered getting a shotgun on several occasions and blowing them all to hell for their trouble. He’d also considered going to jail for firing said weapon in the city, and abandoned that idea like a bathroom after eating a Grand Slam from Denny’s.
The ones outside their window, however, were not crows. Crows were scary to be sure, and mean and bitchy and rude; these were just annoying. They might have been frail and beautiful, with powder blue backs and cream chests dusted with rusty red. Their song was another story. It was beautiful from a distance, like half a mile, not ten feet away. Ryan had many pictures of these fine birds from his camping adventures with Lawrence. One had even landed on Lawrence’s hand when he offered some seed, and Ryan captured the moment like a crystal of time.
The birds outside their window were eastern bluebirds, and they were fervently, vivaciously, screeching their shrill, five note ditty over and over as if one was right beside Ryan’s ear shouting, “Get the fuck up, asshole! I may not be a crow, but I’m not letting you sleep another damn minute! Get up! Get up!”
His eyes sprang open and he reached for Emily. Half awake, he glared at the empty place beside him on the sleeping bag.
“Emily?” He rubbed his eyes and sat up, blinding, morning light shooting in through the window to form a golden column of dust. “Where are you, baby?” He spun around to check the door. It was closed. He moved to stand, putting most of his weight on his right foot, and collapsed onto the floor, face first, teeth biting in to a serving of stale carpet.
“Shit,” he spat and clutched his ankle. In their flight from the roving pack of dogs he must have twisted it. Now it was starting to swell. He crawled his way around the room, pushing aside Mega Blocks—which will never be as good as Legos no matter what anyone said—naked baby dolls, mismatched puzzle pieces and plastic take-out toys that seemed to have no particular function. “Emily?” He grew more nervous. He checked her toddler bed, rolling his weight safely onto his knee. Nothing. He checked behind her tiny pink and purple dresser at the end. Nothing.
Then, he heard a soft swell of laughter drift out from the closet.
“Gotcha!” he said, swinging the door wide.
Emily screeched. “Ahh! No, no! Hide, hide!” she spluttered, grin splitting her chubby face. As Ryan had slept off the last hour or so of his desperate exhaustion, Emily had gathered up what Legos she could locate in her locked room and begun building a tower inside the closet. From the look of it, the rainbow banded edifice had been taken apart and rebuilt several times over.
Whenever Emily started from scratch, nothing but a flat bottom piece with no blocks that Ryan had to clear off for her, the tower would be wide, with a staggered base and a narrow top. After enough time had passed, and she came to discover that sound engineering wasn’t satisfying her creative needs, she’d take half of it apart and repurpose the remains, making spires of the structure’s corners that would reach higher and higher with each new attempt. The size of her tower was now nearly three feet tall, and precariously unstable, with no rhyme or reason as to the color choices or design aesthetics, just creativity and a stream of consciousness put into form. It was the coolest tower Ryan had ever seen in all his life. Emily grinned up at him, not breaking eye contact, and with a swipe of her right arm, reduced this master work into a scattered pile of endless possibilities.
Because that’s what Legos are. Possibilities.
They sat there in bliss for nearly an hour, birds tweeting in the limbs by the window, building and rebuilding all sorts of haphazard structures that wouldn’t have a chance in hell of passing code by an inspector. The weather had abated. They discussed several of the oversized Legos in detail, the image of a pink cake printed on one, numbers printed on another, and pontificated upon its greater meaning to the aesthetics of this grand, transient, architectural masterpiece they labored over. Emily furrowed her brow, more often than not, as she carefully considered where the next brick would be placed as if consulting a mental blue print.
“Done!” she said, throwing her hands up and grabbing another piece. “Done!” she said again, making Ryan smile. God, he loved this kid.
He began to sing without melody, clutching a stocky male Lego figure that had ugly brown hair, “Tiny tower is gettin’ big, better look out I’ve got a wig. Don’t let it fall or they’ll be heck to pay! ‘Til we build it another day! Another day! Another day! We can build it, another day!”
Emily vibrated her head. “No, Dada. No.”
“Come on. My voice isn’t that bad, is it?”
“No.” She let the word drag out for several seconds. “No. It’s fine.” But the way she said fine implied it was dismissive.
“Whatever, chickadee.”
Ryan’s stomach twisted suddenly, his body shaking, cold. He got up out of reflex, fumbled with the door knob, and stumbled into the bathroom. He was barely able to make it onto the toilet before his bowels turned to water. He shook, clutching his stomach in the dim light reflecting off th
e hall. His eyes turned wet. Emily wandered in to see what was the matter. Fear found its way back into Ryan’s heart. Just one day into this new place, this alien world with rules he only had a notion of, and he was already sick.
He cursed several times under his breath, trying not to let Emily hear.
Another shock of pain shot through his gut and ended up in the toilet.
Emily took a seat on the floor to play with a set of plastic princess figures. Ryan watched her every move, her every breath, her color, her energy, cataloging every scrap in detail. She seemed fine so far. He could tell her diaper was full from the way it bulged and sagged, but it seemed to be pee pee and not poop.
After a few minutes he stood, reached over to clean up and found that the TP was as flimsy as powder. He used an old hand towel and flushed. His backside burned as if he’d opted for a Sriracha jalapeno pepper smoothie.
“The water,” he hissed, buckling his belt. “It may have been bottled but it is old. I need to boil it from now on, or find iodine tablets, just like camping. Treat it like it’s from a stream. You feel okay?”
Emily glanced up at him and went back to playing. She was fine. Ryan drew himself up and girded his mental loins. Just because everyone else in the world was dead didn’t mean they could disrupt Emily’s daily routine too much. He had to get back to basics. For her sake.
They went down to make breakfast and boil a pot of water to ensure they had something safe to drink. He found his set of five-gallon fold-a-carriers, collapsible water jugs used for camping, washed them out and used one to keep their potable supply clearly marked. He reminisced on the last trip he’d used these containers on. It was just Lillian and he that time, two months before she’d started at UBL. They’d made s’mores and danced under the stars to songs by the Beetles from a windup radio.
He felt himself choking on tears and began to sip scotch each time he looped around the kitchen. Even something as simple as the wine bottle opener they had used all through college made him sick. He needed Lillian to get through this madness, but she was gone.
The Two That Remained Page 5