Silence. The silences were starting to hurt. I felt like someone was sitting on my chest. And I didn’t even know what the hell was going on.
“But what about you, though?”
More hurt.
“Okay. I don’t know what to say. Will you call me if you change your mind? And if you don’t change your mind, will you call me the minute you know more?”
Quick silence.
“Okay. Can I call you every day?”
Medium silence.
“Okay. I’ll call your cell. Bye. Take care, okay?”
He clicked the off button on the phone. But he didn’t put it down. He just stood there, not moving, not talking. Not looking at Rigby or me. Just looking at the phone like it must have something more to tell him. Even though there was nobody left on the line.
I wanted to ask, “What is it? What’s wrong?” But I didn’t want to burst him out of this delicate moment. It felt like that thing about never waking a sleepwalker. It felt like it might be dangerous.
I had time to think, He does have all the same feelings everybody else has. When he acts like he doesn’t, that’s a lie.
He looked at me. His eyes bored right in.
“Something wrong with Rachel?” I asked.
“No. Dan. Something’s wrong with Dan.”
He didn’t say what. Not right away. I just waited.
Then, finally, “He has stage four stomach cancer.”
“And they just now told you about it?”
“They just now found out.”
“What’s going to happen to him?”
“They’re not sure yet. He’s going in for surgery day after tomorrow. They’re pretty sure it’s metastasized. But they’ll know more when they get in there. I wanted to go down, but she insisted I stay. That I stay and enjoy my retirement. I should be down there, though.”
We stood in that painful silence for another space of time. Minutes, from the feel of it. But the feel of things can be a lie.
Then he said, “Come on. Let’s get you those fish.”
I followed him into the kitchen, my legs wobbling a little.
“I would take care of Rigby if you wanted to go down there.”
“I know. I tried to tell her that. Do you mind if I don’t teach you this today? How to clean them? Do you mind if I just do it?”
“Fine. I don’t mind.”
I sat at the table and watched his back. He was working with his hands down in the sink, so I didn’t have to see any blood or guts.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said, kind of quietly.
“I guess so,” he said. Without turning around.
“I know you don’t like your brother, but… do you love him?”
He didn’t answer for a long time. Long enough that I thought he never would.
Then he said, “Yes.”
That’s all. Just yes. Nothing fancier than that.
It got quiet in that kitchen again.
A minute later, he spoke up, and it was loud. Too loud. It startled me.
“I’m going down there.”
He wiped his hands on a white dish towel, leaving it smeared with bright red fish blood. He hurried into the living room. I got up and stood in the doorway and watched him punch buttons into the phone.
“Rachel, listen. Please. Just listen. I’m the only living blood family he’s got. And it’s going to be a big job to take care of him after surgery. And you don’t have family close by. Please. Don’t argue. Just let me come. If you won’t let me come for you, or for Dan, let me come for me.”
The first silence of the second phone call. It didn’t hurt quite as much as the earlier ones.
“Angie will take care of her. Won’t you, Angie?”
He looked at me, his eyes different. Deeper than before. Like a cave you can suddenly walk further into.
“Yeah. Sure I will.”
“For as long as she needs to. Right, Angie?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t matter how long. All summer if I need to.”
“She could stay here with Rig all summer if she needed to.”
“Oh, wait,” I said, and motioned for him to cover the phone.
“Rachel, hang on just a minute.” He pressed the heel of his hand on the mouthpiece. “Problem?”
“I couldn’t take her to my house. They don’t allow pets.”
“You could stay here.”
“Okay.”
He put the phone back to his ear, then thought better of it and covered the mouthpiece again. “Would your mom let you stay alone?”
“I think so. I’m not positive, though.”
“Are you okay staying alone?”
“Are you kidding me? When am I not alone? And in charge of my sister to boot.”
“I’ll pay you.”
“You don’t have to pay me.”
“Of course I’ll pay you. Don’t be silly.”
“Paul. We’re friends. You don’t have to pay me.”
He stared at a spot around my chin for a second or two, and I had no idea what he was thinking.
“We’ll work something out,” he said. Then he put the phone to his ear again. “I’ll leave in the morning,” he told her.
“Right,” he said.
“See you then,” he said.
“Rachel?” he asked.
Silence. I had a funny feeling it was silent on both ends of the line.
“Never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watched Sophie wolfing down her trout. Eating the usual way. With her fingers.
“Did you check hers really carefully for small bones?” I asked my mom.
“Stop changing the subject. Back up. Why are you not getting paid for this?”
“He offered to pay me. But I said no. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to eat my fish while it’s still hot.”
We ate in silence for a long time. The only sound was Sophie making a little noise on every chew. She always ate with her mouth wide open. It was kind of gross, but I figured she couldn’t help it. So I just didn’t look in. My mom was smoldering, and I was trying to ignore it. I was also trying not to let it affect my appetite or upset my stomach. It was my second high-protein meal in one day. I swear, all that protein was going to my head. My brain felt clearer than it had in months.
When I finally swallowed the last bite, my mom broke her vow of silence.
“Okay. You’re done. Why did you say no to money, again?”
“Because he’s my friend. You don’t charge your friend for doing a favor. Especially at a time like this.”
“You do if you need the money. If he was really your friend, he’d know you needed it. And he’d insist.”
“He did insist. Or anyway, he tried. I turned him down. He does stuff for me all the time. I ate lunch there almost every day from the time we moved here to the time Sophie and I went on the school-lunch program. What did you think we were eating all day? You never even paid attention. He taught me how to fish. He’s loaning me a fishing pole and enough tackle to get me started. Which is how I brought home this great dinner. Which you haven’t even bothered to thank me for. You’ve been in such a rotten mood lately, I hardly even know how to deal with you anymore.”
The room went quiet for a bit. Except for the Sophie noises.
My mom took a bite of her fish. It must have been really cold by then.
“It’s very good. Thank you. It’s just that we could really use some extra cash.”
“We can always use extra cash. And you always try to solve the problem by looking at me. There are child-labor laws, you know. If we’re not eating enough, you’re supposed to get a better job or something. Or a second job. Or a cheaper place to live. You’re not supposed to look at me like it’s my job to feed us. I learned to fish so I can bring home food. And you don’t even appreciate it.”
“I don’t see how fish will solve our problem.”
“I do! We can eat it!”
I was starting to get mad. Sophie’s little noi
ses got bigger, because we were making her nervous. She didn’t like it when we yelled.
“Don’t you think we’ll get sick of fish after a while?”
“Unlike rice and beans, or pasta. Which, of course, we never get sick of!”
“Don’t raise your voice to me.”
“You want that fish, or don’t you? Because I’d be really happy to eat it if you don’t even care.”
First she didn’t answer. But when I dove for the plate, she defended it. She wrapped her arms around it and boxed me out.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said. “Yes. I want it. I’m worried about money is all.”
“Is that why you’ve been in such a bad mood?”
“I haven’t been in a bad mood.”
I snorted louder than I meant to.
“Right. Of course not. I’m going for a walk.”
She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even try to stop me. I looked back to see her scarfing down the fish. I shook my head and kept going.
Paul’s porch light was off, so I stood in the dark by his door until he had time to come open it. Then he snapped the porch light on, and it stabbed into my eyes like twin daggers. I shielded my eyes with my hand.
When he opened the door, I just stood there for another second. Not sure what to say.
“I had a fight with my mom. Can I come in?”
He stepped away from the door, and I walked in and leaned over Rigby and hugged her and hugged her and hugged her. I thought, Don’t you ever die, Rigby. Don’t you dare ever die. Between that and my mom, I felt a little close to crying, so I hugged her even longer, until I got it under control.
Then I straightened up and had no idea what to say to Paul.
I wanted to ask if I could sleep there for the night. But I knew I couldn’t. I knew there was nothing perverted about Paul and me, and he knew it, but there was that place where you have to bow to what other people are bound to think. I couldn’t stay at his house until he wasn’t there anymore.
So I said, “Maybe I could just stay here until I’m sure she’s in bed.”
“Sure.”
“I sleep in the living room, so until she goes to bed, I get no privacy.”
“You’ll get plenty of privacy in the next couple of weeks.”
“Yeah, that’ll be really nice.”
I looked around the place and started to think how great it would be to have it all to myself, all day long, day after day. It made me want to go home even less.
“I won’t get in your hair, I promise.”
“You never get in my hair. You know how to play Gin Rummy?”
“No. But I could learn. If you’re willing to teach me.”
We played more than twenty hands before I finally went home.
I started to like it too much. Like maybe everything having to do with cards was bad for me. But it wasn’t the cards, really. It was the gambling. We didn’t play for money, but I could see how easy it would be to cross that line.
What if I was a gambler at heart? Just like my dad?
I’d have to be careful about that.
2. Because
“Kibble is in this cupboard,” he said. He opened the pantry to show me a plastic bin that was almost as big as a garbage can, but with a tighter lid. “There’s a measuring scoop inside. So one scoop, and one can of the wet food. Twice a day. You can put the arthritis pills right into her food. I left them by the microwave.”
“Does it matter exactly what time?”
“Not to the minute. I feed her when I get up and then again around five. She’ll bug you if she’s hungry. An hour here or there doesn’t bother her much.”
I counted the dog food cans on the shelf.
“Two a day. So what if you’re gone for more than eighteen days?”
“Well, I doubt that. But just to be on the safe side…” He pulled out his wallet and took out a twenty. Stuck it under the last can on the shelf. “They sell it at the local market, so just save the last can so you know you’re getting the right stuff.”
“Okay. How do I know if she has to go out?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I had a doggie door installed in the back door. She’ll let herself out.”
“Is it all fenced?”
“Not completely. But she won’t go away. She’s too well trained for that.”
“What if she gets worried because you’re gone?”
“I go away and leave her all the time. She’ll just wait for me at the house. She’s a good dog. Trust her.”
“I do,” I said.
But it was a big responsibility.
“Here’s the number of her vet. And my cell number. If you have any questions, just call me.”
“Okay.”
“You sure I can’t pay you for this?”
“Positive.”
That seemed to stop him for a minute. I wondered what he was thinking. I couldn’t tell from his face.
“Eat everything. I expect to find not one scrap of food in this house when I get back. And the fishing stuff is all in the garage. Take it out. There are lots of places you can walk to. I’ll leave you a map of the town, and you’ll be able to see where the streams run through. Unless you’ve already figured that out since you’ve been here.”
“Not really. The map would be good. Should I take her?”
“Sure. If you want.”
“What if it’s too much walking for her?”
“Try taking her everywhere. If she comes up limping, or stiff, that’s too much.
Cut back a bit. If you’re not sure, call.”
“Okay.”
“Nervous about it?”
“A little.”
“Don’t be. You love her. That’s all the skills you really need for the job.”
We stood on the back porch and watched him drive away. I waved, but, because of the way we were looking down on his car, I doubt he could even see me.
“He’ll come back,” I told Rigby. “And I’ll take good care of you while he’s gone.”
I’m not sure why I bothered, though. She didn’t seem the least bit nervous. The only nervous in the place was coming from me.
I opened his refrigerator door. Because, of course, I hadn’t had breakfast. I found orange juice. Two dozen eggs. Bacon. Cheddar cheese and cream cheese. Milk. Salad makings in the vegetable drawer. An opened package of smoked salmon. A shrink-wrapped package of lean ground beef. Half a dozen peaches.
“Holy crap!” I said out loud.
Rigby came over to see what the fuss was about. She looked where I was looking, into the fridge. Like she expected to see something unusual. Then she looked at me, like she wanted to know what all the excitement was about.
I guess it looked normal to her. I guess she was used to the fact that lots of people live like this, with their refrigerators full of food. I’d completely forgotten.
I decided if there was cream cheese and smoked salmon, there must be bagels. So I looked on the counter. In the bread box.
I finally found them in the freezer.
I toasted up both halves of one and slathered them both with cream cheese and mounded them up with half the smoked salmon, which was twice what any normal person would have used.
Paul said he didn’t want to see one scrap of food left when he got back. And he would never know what I ate when. Only I would know that.
The idea of eating more than I really needed was so foreign by then. I’d had no idea how much I missed it.
Then I got this sudden impulse to save half for Sophie. But it hit me that there was more. Lots more. I could make her a whole other bagel, just like the one I was about to scarf down.
I took my first big bite and sighed. Literally just sat there at his kitchen table, not even chewing. Just tasting what I’d already bitten down on.
“This is the life, Rig,” I said, my mouth still full.
I found a trail down to the creek following Paul’s map. Rigby followed so close behind me that if I stopped f
or even a second, her nose bumped into my back.
The trees got closer in, and I kept catching the end of the fishing pole on the branches. Then I’d have to stop and make sure the line wasn’t tangled in the pine needles.
When we got to the creek, I looked down into the water. It was only maybe a foot deep, running clear with a wonderful sound. But if there had been fish in there, I would have seen them.
There were no fish.
I wished there’d been time to take two fishing lessons before Paul had to go away. Like maybe one lesson in stream fishing. So far, I only knew how to fish in a lake. And the lakes were too far away to walk there.
I looked down to see Rigby staring up into my face. I could tell she wanted to know what my problem was. Why didn’t I just go fishing? Maybe there were certain spots where the fish liked to hang out. Maybe Rigby came down here all the time with Paul. Maybe she knew where he usually liked to go.
“Which way, Rigby?”
It might have just been me, but she seemed happy I asked. She headed off right away, upstream. I followed her, puffing up the hill. Trying to look down, so as not to trip on the brush poking out onto the trail. And to look up, so I wouldn’t snag a tree with the pole. Both at the same time.
“Wait up, Rig,” I called.
She did.
About five minutes of brush-popping later, we came out into a clearing, dappled with sunlight through overhanging trees. The stream gave way to a pool, much deeper than the rest of the stream and about five times wider. I set down the tackle box and rod, stepped out onto some huge, smooth rocks. Got down on all fours. There was a bare downed tree half under the water, and I steadied myself on one of the branches as I leaned out over the pool.
More than a dozen rainbow trout skittered by, the ripples of the pool bending their images.
I made my way back to Rigby.
“Good dog,” I said.
I spent probably ten minutes just getting a hook onto the end of the line. Because I’d forgotten how Paul had taught me to tie the knot. I kept doing it the way I thought was right, but then I’d pull hard on the hook to make sure it would hold. And it would pull right off again.
I looked over at Rigby, who was lying beside me, front legs outstretched, eyes half closed in the dappled sun. Her eyebrows were gray now, too, her muzzle grayer.
Where We Belong Page 17