by K. C. Maher
Eventually, I slip from her clutches and bob to the surface. I let my body relax in a dead-man’s float. In fact, my heart has slowed and quieted to normal.
‘Is everything all right? Is Olivia okay?’
‘Yes,’ Sterling says. ‘Her moods are extreme, even for a teenager. Even compared—well, to anyone’s. She was adamant about staying in Maine.’
‘Why?’
‘My mother adores her; she adores my mother. She likes her school—and Karl.’
‘I can hardly believe you’re here, Sterling.’
She smiles coyly and I rub my eyes to stop them from blinking. Also, to buy a moment before returning her smile. The best I can manage is a grimace in her direction. She’s too busy talking to notice.
‘You bought a new car.’
‘Oh, you noticed that. The Mazda always felt like a car to drive to the train station and back. I wanted one to drive upstate if I felt like it.’
‘Seems odd,’ Sterling says. ‘Nobody told me you had a new car.’
I pivot, just irritated enough for my shock to drop a notch. ‘With whom do you discuss my driving habits? Nina?’
‘Never mind that. You and Olivia would pack all her friends in the Mazda. Then you’d drive them wherever they wanted.’
‘They wanted to be at the mall. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Forget it,’ she says, taking my hand. But I need to sit down. I drop into the chair facing the bay window’s middle pane. She sits beside me and describes coming home.
‘Kevin and I were eating at our favorite restaurant and it started raining like Niagara Falls. A busboy let me out the back door. For some reason, Kevin had his car and I had mine, so I sped to the carriage house, packed my bags, and drove home. If it took all night, I didn’t notice.’
‘And now you’re here.’
Amazing—my idyll with Amanda ends with Sterling acting as if she never left. Outside, the rain continues to drizzle. I stand up and pat my pockets. ‘I was just going out for coffee beans. These days I like a strong, hot cup of Ethiopian roast.’
‘Don’t you want to stay with me? We don’t need coffee that bad.’
‘Maybe not. But I need to run a quick errand.’
‘What kind of errand?’
I stand up and check my pockets for my wallet and keys. When I look at her, my eyelids open and close compulsively as if I could make her vanish. She’s still there. She’s tapping her foot. Her stand-up twists of hair do not move.
It’s like a fit that suddenly stops. ‘Sorry, I’m so bossy. Except I’m not, not anymore. You have to believe me, Walter.’
‘That’s all right, Sterling. Just let me run this small errand.’ I’m still blinking and so befuddled that I march past her into the TV room where I stare at the backyard. Seeing the beds of irises that Amanda and I planted as bulbs in October, along with the two Japanese cut-leaf maples, I’m suddenly filled with boundless, unreasonable hope. Sterling leans into me, her chin digging into my shoulder. ‘Soon we’ll be looking out at a tiered acre.’
I nod and blink, still ridiculously buoyant as she leads me upstairs. She pulls me into the bedroom that was once ours. I remain near the threshold as she flops back on the bed, her arms flung overhead.
Without quite comprehending the plan I’ve already set in motion, I run downstairs for my cell phone. I make sure the rings and pings are set to the longest, loudest option, and place it on Sterling’s nightstand.
Our marriage is over. I will never make love to her again. Sterling will accept this soon, despite her awkward overtures. Because we are no longer lovers. And yet—she will save me! She’ll field incoming calls, and either cover for me or assert my rights. Sterling will tell Cheryl Jonette that her negligence is—and has always been—criminal.
Most importantly, however, she will protect Amanda! Sterling will do whatever is necessary to prevent any- and everyone from interrogating her, including Amanda’s mother! She’ll threaten Cheryl against any inclination to intimidate her daughter—or to make even mild insinuations. I have no doubt. As my fledging plan develops, I’m ready and able to pay the consequences. Because Sterling will grasp the situation instantly. And she will know exactly how to stop any official, authority, or procedure from harassing Amanda. She will safeguard her. Beyond question, Sterling will shield Amanda with her life.
Nevertheless, at this moment, Sterling stands naked before me, her arms open.
‘Just a minute.’ I back away and find a backpack in the closet. Inside a set of drawers there, I find my passport. Turning around, I see that Sterling’s between me and the open bedroom door. As I approach, she presses my hands over her soft, loose breasts. ‘If you aren’t gone long, I’ll shower and we can take a nap.’
I almost slip past her, but she grabs my arm. ‘Can’t your errand wait? Don’t you want me?’
I murmur, ‘In a minute,’ and run downstairs.
In the study, I add a second wallet, with additional I.D. and credit cards, to the backpack. In the garage, I throw the backpack inside the Accord. Before getting behind the wheel, I remember the pre-paid, emergency phone that’s in the Mazda’s glove compartment. It’s parked by the backyard fence. I dash back there and fumble with my keys before remembering I don’t lock the Mazda. Seconds later, I’m buckled into the Accord and backing out of the garage in low gear. I turn and glide silently down the spiraling hill. At Oak Grove Point’s iron gates, I phone Delta Air Lines and reserve two first-class, round-trip tickets to Orlando, Florida.
By the time I’m cruising down Broadway, the sun has banished the rain clouds. I park opposite Main Street in a parking lot near the entrance to another luxury housing development like Oak Grove Point, except far more extensive with rolling man-made hills. Hands in my pockets, I cross Broadway. Sunlight streams through the leafy trees onto the pavement.
I know exactly what I’m doing. Every morning, Amanda meets her friends at the diner across the street from the middle school’s main entrance. Ordinarily, she’d have no reason to walk back up the hill. But today she will. Fate will call her.
Cleansed of every wrong, I know I’m right. My life until this moment has been a prelude to this. This adventure.
While I wait to cross the street, Wayne’s wife drives by as she often does when Amanda, Samson, and I stand on the corner. Today, as if nothing’s unusual, Wayne’s wife gives me a big thumb’s up and toots her horn. I check my watch—not yet eight. Time can vanish in a second. And an entire lifetime can blossom within half an hour.
A wall of unearthly brightness affects my vision. When I recover my sight, Amanda and Madison walk inside a splendid aura, directly toward me. The second I see her, Amanda raises her eyes. And Madison seems to say goodbye before turning and walking away.
Amanda runs uphill, her eyes fixed on mine. One minute she’s leaping like a gazelle, the next, she’s standing in front of me.
‘So,’ she smiles, linking an arm through mine, ‘where are we going?’
‘That depends, honey. Do you like surprises?’
Thirty Three
The traffic on I-87 flows along, despite the morning rush hour. Amanda squeezes my thigh. ‘Give me a hint so I’m not too surprised.’
‘I thought we’d go someplace famous for being warm and fun.’
‘You mean—on an airplane?’ She whoops, rising inside her seatbelt. ‘Walter, I’m the only kid I know who’s never been on an airplane!’
‘If it scares you, we’ll think of something else. But I thought we should have an adventure we’ll never forget.’
‘If I wasn’t going with you, I might be scared. But did you know? I’ve always thought someday I’d travel. See the world.’
‘I don’t think we can manage that now. Just one adventure.’
She slaps my shoulder in a burst of happiness. ‘Don’t tell me another thing, not even if I beg.’ She turns on the music and out pours a stream of songs from The Real Miranda.
The initial song I’ve always found rat
her strained. Miranda sings a bluesy ballad but is unfamiliar with the blues. She bends the notes at the wrong intervals.
Amanda asks, ‘Is this okay or do you need to think?’
‘No, I want to recall the first time we listened to these songs together.’
‘Uh-oh, what’s wrong? Are we on the lam?’
I laugh. ‘Not unless we’re in a very old movie. Although, technically, I suppose I’m on the lam. You, however, are playing hooky. That’s important, Amanda. If anyone asks you about this—but they shouldn’t—tell them that I invited you to play hooky. You agreed, because school’s easy for you.’
‘That’s true. It is.’
In the next song, the engineers have altered the actress’s voice so it conveys intelligence and feeling. I ask, ‘Remember this one? Iris was hovering outside the window. Her bells act as a kind of call-and-response.’
Amanda sings along, her voice sliding down an octave to harmonize with Iris.
This morning, when I saw her leaving the diner with her classmates, I worried that she might be too grown up for Disney World. But her enthusiasm for the Miranda songs encourages me.
Every day, a moment occurs in which I notice a newly compelling aspect to her eyes and lips. The sweep of Amanda’s jaw is now proportionate with her cheekbones. Until Sterling arrived, I imagined myself impervious to Amanda’s changing figure—high, sprightly breasts as if overnight; her small waist and long limbs newly emphasized by slender but distinct hips, and a round bottom that is neither a child’s nor a woman’s.
Amanda claims we communicate telepathically about things we share with no one else. I used to laugh at that—telepathically. But before Amanda and I were alone together at the top of Oak Grove Point, I was usually silent and often reticent. With her, I can say anything. Although, sometimes, we really don’t need to speak. We do think the same thoughts.
The waves of overwhelming joy and their undertow stream from the infinite depth of the love and admiration Amanda and I have for each other. My fear of succumbing to her precocious advances suddenly strikes me as preposterous. She’s stroking my leg and I feel no need to stop her.
Traffic slows at the Triborough Bridge. We pass through an automatic toll and I say, ‘I hate asking you to lie, Amanda. And I know that you hate pretending I’m your father, because it goes against your feelings. But for this adventure, you will probably need to do that a few times.’
Amanda scoffs. ‘The only reason I insist it’s a lie is to make sure you understand—I never think of you that way, Walter. And, you don’t think of me as your daughter. I know you don’t. You try to, but you can’t.’
‘No fooling you, is there?’ I wink at her, expecting her to roll her eyes. But she’s not joking. So, I say, ‘You’re probably the most honest person I’ve ever met. Most people lie to themselves and don’t even know it. But you’re always honest with yourself. It’s a shame that when I take you some place, you have to lie.’
‘All I care about is that you never think of you-and-me as make-believe. You and me, Walter and Amanda, are real and true.’
I should simply agree. But I worry about the coming scrutiny. To reassure myself, I say, ‘Part of it depends on what people assume. Anyone can see we love each other. If we present ourselves as father and daughter, people understand that. Only someone who knows us both very well could accept how we are together without jumping to the conclusion that I’m a despicable man. You know that, honey, and you have an extraordinary ability to stop people from wondering.’
She smiles her irresistible, wicked smile and whispers, ‘I know.’
‘You cover up for your mother, and now you’ll need to cover up for me. It’s wrong because the most important thing is honoring the truth of who you are and how you feel.’
I don’t dare to look at her, fearing her pantomime with the lugubrious violin. But she says, ‘Walter, you’re not forcing me into anything.’
I take this as permission to continue. ‘If you accept us briefly escaping together, we need to be devious.’
‘Wait a minute. What are we escaping? What’s happening?’
‘I saw you talk to Sterling in her car. So you know she’s home.’
‘That was Sterling?’
‘Who did you think it was?’
‘I don’t know. I never saw her hair like that.’
‘Me neither.’
‘So, I’m playing hooky because Sterling has come home to stay.’
‘It’s true that she’s home, Amanda. We won’t stay married, but now that’s she’s here, our time together—yours and mine—is running out.’
Through loud, irregular gasps, she tries to blink away tears, swiping hard at those that pop out. In a gentler voice than I knew I possessed, I say, ‘We talked about this, honey, remember? You said maybe if we were quiet, time would forget about us. And I said, let’s hold our breath.’
Shaking her head, she says, ‘What sad, stupid jokes,’ and cries.
I muster businesslike restraint to keep myself from crying. Amanda’s entitled to her tears, separate from anyone else’s—especially mine.
She stares out the car door window. Before long, she sniffles and asks if I have a handkerchief. Shifting my weight, I dig into my jeans’ front pocket and hand her a clean one. In less than a minute, she hands it back. Spine straight, shoulders level, she says, ‘You have to promise me, Walter, you won’t get in trouble.’
‘Honey, every adventure involves risk. I will get in some trouble for this, but I’m prepared for that. Because we need this, Amanda. We really need it.’
She frowns and then she hiccups, which surprises us both. ‘Okay,’ she says, half smiling. ‘We sure need something.’
A particular pressure forms behind my eyes—similar to the sensation I get whenever Amanda says I love her more than I realize. Not long ago, maybe even yesterday, I was afraid of my love for her, afraid of its force, and the appalling cravings it aroused in me. But the truth is this: Mostly what Amanda arouses in me is boundless happiness. Also, sublime devotion. If I were capable of denying the attendant cravings, I might be more susceptible to them.
For weeks, I’ve wanted to say, ‘I love you more than you can imagine, Amanda.’ Except, I’ve decided it’s better left unsaid.
The feelings we share are a constant, sacred present tense. It will be enough—more than enough—if she realizes that an exceptionally reasonable man loves her beyond all reason.
If she continues to think of our time together, perhaps she’ll even consider how much she changed me. All of Amanda’s provocations—intentional, innocent, and in-between—tapped emotional powers within me that I would never have discovered otherwise. Because of Amanda, my deep, distant self has grown bold and upfront. My mind and heart are steadfast and immediate.
I must tell her that she has the money to go wherever she chooses. That she can indeed, if she wants, see the world. But right now, for a day or two, we’re going where nobody knows us. We deserve a last celebration together.
I park in the airport lot and tap her knee. ‘You and I, Amanda, are so far from ordinary, we’re going to have to fool all the ordinary people.’
Thirty Four
In the departure area, Amanda steps heel-to-toe in a tight circle, a habit of hers to contain excitement. But her excitement is contagious. And not just to me—everyone waiting to check their luggage smiles at her.
Fingers crossed, I ask if she has a picture I.D. Such a quick girl—she presents a laminated card, voilà. The middle-school I.D. includes her name, class year, date of birth, address, and phone number. In a yellowish, watermarked photograph, Amanda rolls her eyes left, her mouth slightly open. It’s a funny, fetching pose.
I hand the TSA official our tickets, my passport, and Amanda’s I.D., hoping it’s sufficient. The woman glances at the card and then asks Amanda, ‘Are you going for Disney’s Last Minute Getaway?’
She rises in the air. ‘Are we, Daddy?’
The security guard apologize
s for ruining the surprise. I assure her the timing is perfect and ask if she can advise me on what to do next. ‘Her mother let me know weeks ago, but so far I’ve only bought the air tickets.’
The TSA official doesn’t work for Disney or Delta, but she loves Disney World and is especially enthusiastic about the Getaway Program.
The Last Minute Getaway, I learn, offers discounts to parents whose kids attend participating schools. It can be used as an incentive or a reward. Amanda’s school would have approved the days off if her mother had said they needed time together. Had I planned better, I would have given Amanda’s principal an explanation for her absence today and tomorrow. Now, it’s too late.
The sweet-natured guard reassures me that I can buy tickets to the theme parks and make all other necessary arrangements at the Orlando airport. ‘Look for the statue of Goofy and his candy store.’
Amanda tells the woman this is her first time flying and beams an all-out smile so that the official halts, briefly suspended. (Amanda’s smile always conveys a flicker of stopped time, for me at least, but now I’m witnessing its effect on someone else.)
Unaware, the woman pauses for nearly a full minute. Then, excusing herself, she turns and speaks into a device lifted from her neck. Facing us again, she says, ‘You can skip the long line. I’ll initial your tickets and you can go directly to that area over there.’
She points to a short security line. Soon, we’re putting our backpacks and phones in bins on the conveyor belt. We can keep our shoes on, we’re told. I walk through the simple metal detector first. The guard monitoring it says, ‘Have fun.’
After we breeze through security, Amanda admires how official everything is.
She pulls me into a corner and reaches for my neck until I bend one knee on the floor. She leans against my leg, her hands holding my face, before she tugs my hair, whispering, ‘Disney World, Walter! You knew that’s where I’ve always wanted to go.’