“Come on,” she said as she peeled back the comforter and then tickled his belly. “It’s a school day.”
Jon grabbed the Spiderman doll on his bed. “Mommy, Spiderman could marry you now that Daddy doesn’t love you anymore.”
Trying not to cry, determined to stay strong, she said, “You’re so silly.” Then she tickled his belly. “Let’s see how you can dress yourself.”
“I’ll dress me tomorrow.” Jon climbed out of bed.
After helping him put on his jeans and shirt, she said, “Wash your face and brush your teeth.”
“Daddy telled me to always ask Linda to help like a real mommy would,” Jon said.
She knew he wasn’t challenging her. He was just repeating what he’d heard at Gabe’s, but it was painful. “I always help you with everything. Without Daddy, we have to help each other.”
“It’s sad without my daddy here,” Jon said. Then he looked at Alex and asked, “Do you miss Daddy?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She couldn’t tell him how much she’d loved Gabe and how much she longed for their sweet family. She kissed his brown curls and cursed Gabe. No one had been spared, not even Jon, her carefree baby.
Alex went to open the door to the older boys’ bedroom. Inhaling the sneaker smell, she surveyed the room. Eric and Daniel had picked out the wallpaper themselves—an assortment of footballs, basketballs, and baseballs. Gabe had put up the oak shelves, now laden with trophies. Above each headboard, school certificates hung crookedly, announcing the boys’ academic accomplishments. While Gabe valued their baseball and football trophies, it was their academic achievements that pleased Alex the most.
“Eric, dear, wake up.” She kissed his forehead.
He climbed out of bed and went to his oak dresser. The drawer squeaked open. He had Gabe’s athletic build and the same blue eyes and dark hair. Whenever she wasn’t on time to pick him up, he’d get impatient, shake his head and roll his eyes, just like Gabe. She reminded herself she wasn’t angry with him; he wasn’t Gabe.
As she leaned over Daniel’s bed, he reached up and straightened her collar. She smiled and kissed his cheek. He smiled back at her. Then he pulled his navy-and-white-checked comforter over his head, peeking out just long enough to look at the clock on the night table.
“Daniel.” She gently shook his shoulder.
“Mom, you look tired,” he said, voice muffled under the blanket.
Eric popped his head up from digging in the top dresser drawer. “Where’s my light blue polo shirt?”
“Don’t be so impatient.” She went to his bureau, found the shirt and gave it to him.
“Where are my Lucky jeans?” Eric asked.
She checked his closet. “They must still be in the dryer.”
“I wanted to wear them today.”
“Maybe it’s time you started to do your own laundry.”
“I don’t have to at Dad’s.” Eric glared at her.
Another dart to her heart, she had to ignore it. There was no point in responding, explaining how hard she was trying.
“Dad doesn’t know how to do the laundry,” Daniel volunteered, clearly trying to make her feel better.
“Yeah, he has a cleaning lady,” Eric said.
Information about how Gabe had seamlessly settled into his new life unnerved her. She knew his move had to have been choreographed several months prior to his departure. So, before saying anything she’d regret, she rushed downstairs and restarted the dryer. Then she made her way into the kitchen. Neat and organized, with its sleek black appliances and white cabinets and countertops, the kitchen was the one room in the house where she’d always been in charge. It was her sanctuary.
She opened the refrigerator and took out the lunches she had prepared the night before. Quickly grabbing a Magic Marker and a napkin, she wrote, “I,” then a heart, and then a “U.” She slipped the note into Jon’s red Spiderman lunchbox and wondered: Was Gabe right about how I try too hard to be the perfect mom? Did I ignore him? Does it matter now?
She’d finally given up her perfect-breakfast phase and placed boxes of cereal on the table. She went to retrieve the Los Angeles Times from the front step, brought in the newspaper and spread it out on the kitchen table. As she pulled out one of the white vinyl-cushioned chairs, she looked at the fifth chair, Gabe’s chair. At every meal, she would stare at that empty chair, Gabe’s absence filling the room. She decided it was time to get rid of it and lugged it out to the garage.
Jon galloped down the stairs. “I want Froot Loops.”
“Only healthy cereal,” Alex said, getting up to heat the water for her tea.
“We can have Froot Loops at my daddy’s house,” Jon said.
Eric rushed down the stairs and entered the kitchen. “I want French toast like I have at dad’s.”
“We’re too late for that,” she said, her determination slipping a notch.
Daniel put his “Daniel for Class President” sign next to his overstuffed backpack in the corner of the entryway and took his seat at the table. He poured Cheerios into his bowl and added milk. “Mom, I’ve got a football game today, so I need a clean uniform.”
“Dude,” she said. “Would I let you down?”
He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
Emptying the last drop of milk into Jon’s bowl, Alex realized there wasn’t any left for her tea.
The kettle whistled.
“Daniel, want to go over your speech?” she asked.
“I don’t want to hear his dumb speech again,” Eric said.
“So don’t listen.” Daniel turned his baseball cap backwards. “Fellow members of the freshman class of Brea Junior High School, I need your help in order to make this the best junior high school in the county. Our school could be—”
The kettle screeched.
Alex got up, took the kettle off the stove, brought it to the table and placed it to the right of the LA Times.
Jon finished his cereal, walked over to her, and climbed onto her lap. She hugged him. “Go ahead, Daniel.” She took her right hand from Jon’s shoulder and flipped over a page of the newspaper.
“Mommy, can we go to the circus?” Jon asked, gazing down at an ad.
“Daniel’s giving his speech.” She picked up the kettle and pressed open the spout. Steam rose around her face. She started to pour the bubbling, spitting water over the tea bag in her “Wired for the Day” cup and glanced down at the advertisement for a circus that was coming to Brea in five days.
The black circle around the lion tamer on the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus logo leaped up at her. Her mind flew back in time. The music, the smells, the fat lady’s horrible face, and her ugly warning. Her chest tightened. Her hands went numb. She felt the kettle slip in her shaky hand.
“I said, ‘Can we go to the circus?’” Jon squirmed in her lap, put his hand on her chin, and turned her face toward him.
“Um, baby?” She tried to steady the kettle.
“Yippee! We’re going to the circus.” Jon squealed, clapped his hands together, and then flung them out, jarring her right hand.
The kettle hit the floor, splattering boiling water onto Jon’s legs.
Jon wailed.
“Oh, God!” She jumped up, carried him to the counter and put his legs into the sink. As she ran cold water over his legs, he pushed the faucet away, spraying water all over the kitchen floor.
“Mommy, it hurts!” he cried.
“Cookie Face, I know, I know. Mommy’s sorry.”
“I’m calling Dad,” Eric said, dashing to the phone.
Before she could protest, he dialed.
“Mom burned Jon,” Eric said into the phone. Then he was quiet for a while, obviously listening to Gabe. He turned to her. “Dad said to come to the hospital right now.”
Ignoring Eric, she
said, “Daniel, get the burn cream, now.”
“Where is it?” Daniel asked.
“In the laundry room under the cabinet.” Alex unbuckled Jon’s pants.
“Leave me alone.” Jon pushed her hand away. “Mommy, you’re hurting me.”
“I’d never hurt you, Cookie Face.”
“Yes, you did.” Jon cried.
Running toward the sink with the first aid kit in hand, Daniel slipped in the puddle of water and fell.
“Good slide,” Eric said.
“Daniel, are you okay?” Alex asked as she tried to take off Jon’s pants.
Jon screamed and kicked.
The phone rang.
Eric picked it up. “Dad wants to know why we didn’t leave already.”
“Tell him I’m trying to put cream on Jon’s legs.”
“Dad said to bring him right now, and don’t try to be a doctor.”
“I am a doctor, and I know exactly what to do,” she said, no longer willing to allow Gabe to discredit her or say disparaging things about her being a chiropractor. She clenched her jaw to keep from saying anything else. The important thing was caring for Jon, making sure he was going to be okay, even if it meant listening to Gabe and taking Jon to his hospital
She took him down from the counter, his pants soaking wet. She grabbed her keys. “Everyone in the car.”
Clutching Jon to her, she hurried to the Land Cruiser.
Daniel opened the back door. She eased Jon into his seat and leaned across him to snap the seat belt.
“Ouch!” Jon kicked her. “You’re hurting me again.”
“Shotgun,” Eric called.
“Just get in,” she yelled. “One of you in the back and the other in the front. Belt yourselves in, and forget about shotgun or anything else except getting Jon to the hospital.”
“Don’t get mad at me,” Eric said. “You did it.”
She climbed into the car and started to drive. While listening to Jon cry, she could barely focus on the road. Whenever her baby or any of her boys got hurt, she felt their pain and needed to comfort them.
“Owww.” Jon kicked at the front seat.
“Cut it out,” Eric yelled.
“He’s in pain,” she said.
“He doesn’t have to kick my seat,” Eric said.
She quickly turned to look at Jon. “Cookie, if you keep your legs still, it’ll hurt less.”
“We’ll be there soon.” Daniel tried to comfort his brother. “Dad’ll take care of you.”
“Yes,” she whispered, but the horrific reality of that statement gripped her. She knew Daniel didn’t mean to discount her, but his belief in Gabe’s infallibility undermined her. And she hadn’t wanted Eric to call his father. She could have handled this without him. The boys had to learn that she was the parent they had to count on now.
She pulled into the semicircular entrance to Brea Presbyterian Hospital and stared at Dr. Gabriel Rose leaning on one of the marble pillars, hands on hips. He shook his head, opened the car door, and lifted Jon out of his car seat.
“I’ve got him now,” Gabe said confidently.
Covered in a white hospital-issue laboratory coat over green scrubs, his mouth mask bunched up under his jaw, Gabe appeared taller than his five-foot-ten frame. It was difficult not to respect, even admire and trust, this man who belonged to the uniform, the hospital, the profession. But today, she saw only a man capable of destroying the serenity of her family.
Alex gave her keys to the parking attendant, and they all followed Gabe to the emergency room as he carried Jon into the hospital. She bristled at the way Gabe strode down the long corridor, confident in his domain.
Gabe turned to her. “What did you do to him?” he demanded.
“It was an accident,” she said, furious at his accusation.
Two nurses walked toward them and nodded at Gabe.
“These are my boys,” he said, smiling at the nurses.
My boys. Alex winced, hating his excision of her from his life.
“They’re so cute,” the one with the “Cindy” name tag pinned to her uniform said.
The other one made a little-girl wave and winked.
Jon cried out.
“Don’t worry.” Gabe kissed him. “I’m here now.”
Annoyed by his arrogance and his intimation that he was the competent parent, she fought back tears.
They went through the emergency room doors. Gabe placed Jon on a gurney. As he peeled off Jon’s jeans, he appeared horrified at the angry red blotches covering the boy’s thighs.
Alex’s heart thumped. She could barely breathe.
Gabe glared at her. “I’m going to the dermatology department to get Kaplan to look at this.” He stormed out of the room.
“I’m going too.” Eric approached the door.
“Wait here,” she said.
Eric folded his hands across his chest. “Why?”
“Just stay put,” she said.
While they waited for Dr. Kaplan, Jon whimpered. She stroked his back.
“You’ve gotta take me home right now,” Daniel said.
“Jon is hurt,” Alex said. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I have to go home,” Daniel repeated. “You left my campaign sign in the hallway.”
She promised they’d rush home, and he’d have it before the assembly.
Five minutes later, the metal doors parted with a whoosh to reveal the imposing, six-foot-three frame of Dr. Barry Kaplan, Gabe’s racquetball partner and head of the dermatology department. Usually jocular, the life of the hospital parties, Dr. Kaplan greeted them somberly. He shook Alex’s hand and mumbled something resembling, “I’m sorry.”
She wondered whether he was saying he was sorry about the divorce or the accidental scalding of her child.
Kaplan reached into the upper pocket of his white lab coat and took out his eyeglasses. He put them on and looked at Jon’s thighs.
“Will he be okay?” Alex asked.
Ignoring her, Kaplan turned to Gabe. “Second-degree, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Might blister badly,” Gabe said, and then appearing as though he just had an idea, he motioned to Kaplan. “Let’s go to the nurses’ station and get them to prep everything.”
Kaplan agreed, and then said to Jon, “Your daddy and I’ll be right back to take care of you.”
Kaplan walked out of the room. Gabe followed.
Alex wondered why Gabe motioned to Kaplan and why they both left the room.
Engrossed in conversation, Gabe and Kaplan returned. They stopped talking when they got within earshot of Alex.
A nurse came into the room with a sterile set-up.
As Kaplan moved to the table and reached for Jon’s leg, the boy pulled away, almost kicking the doctor. “Are you going to hurt me?” he asked.
“It’ll only take a second,” Kaplan said and poured the sterile solution over the area.
“It’s making more burns,” Jon cried.
Daniel covered his eyes, and Eric watched intently.
Kaplan opened a tube of silver sulfadiazine cream, squeezed some onto a tongue depressor, and applied it. Then he placed a gauze patch over the cream on each thigh and sealed the borders with adhesive tape. He looked at Alex and said, “You’ll have to make sure it stays clean.”
“It’ll probably blister within a few hours.” Gabe shook his head. “Alex, you better be sure he doesn’t pick at it.”
“Absolutely,” Kaplan said. “Blisters are nature’s Band-Aids and, if he pops the blisters, then the area is vulnerable to bacteria and viruses. And extremely prone to scarring.” Then he turned to the nurse. “The tetanus shot?”
“No,” Jon screamed.
Alex went to him.
He pulled away from her. “Mommy, why
did you do this?”
Gabe reached over and held his son while the nurse gave Jon the injection. Then Gabe grabbed his son’s pants. “They’re drenched,” he said.
Annoyed at herself that in her haste to get him to the hospital, she hadn’t thought about bringing a dry pair of pants. Then she looked up and saw Gabe and Kaplan nod at each other. There was something almost conspiratorial about the way they were acting, but then she decided Jon’s well-being was her priority, and their reaction was inconsequential.
Kaplan tousled Jon’s hair. “Buddy, you’re good to go, but stay away from coffee for a while.”
As soon as Kaplan left the room, Gabe pointed at Alex. “Don’t you remember my rule when I brought the Wheelers’ daughter here? Kaplan had to graft her arm after her father spilled coffee on her?” He shook his head in obvious disgust. “My rule has always been no hot coffee near the kids.”
“It was an accident,” she protested loudly. She wondered how he’d already forgotten she never drank coffee and always had tea. It was just a little detail. Maybe he’d forgotten everything about their twenty-five years together, while she was haunted by each and every detail. He seemed to have moved on seamlessly. “An accident,” she repeated.
“Keep your voice down, Alexandra,” he said.
“You keep your voice down,” she countered. “I’ve had enough of your bullying.”
“Just get out of here.” Gabe turned away. “I’ll send one of the nurses out to buy Jon a new pair of pants, and then I’ll take the boys to school.”
“But your patients?” she asked, surprised he’d just leave work to take the children to school.
“I’ve got people here who can help me,” he said.
“Linda,” she whispered, certain he’d go directly to Linda’s office, deliver the children to her, and she’d be the one to take them to school.
“I’ve got to stop off home and get my sign,” Daniel said.
Alex squeezed Daniel to her. “We’ll run home, and then I’ll drop you off at school.”
“I gotta see the dead babies floating in the bathtubs,” Jon said.
Eric frowned. “What’s he talking about?”
Jon tugged at Gabe’s sleeve. “Dad, when you and Mommy used to talk to each other, you said when the babies come out of the mommies and they’re dead, then they bag ’em and send ’em to the bath.”
Sex Happens Page 5