12. Blake
CHAPTER 12
BLAKE
W e weren’t going to have time for it all.
I’d tried to relax and take things on toddler time, but we’d fallen two entire hours behind schedule, and if we didn’t move soon, it would all fall apart. If we left now, we’d roll up at Playland at four. Oli’s bedtime was seven, which left one hour to play, then thirty minutes to drive to my place. By the time I’d cooked dinner, that’d take us to six — or, accounting for toddler time, more like six thirty. Then I’d be half an hour driving them home, barely in time to get Oli to bed.
I checked my watch. “Uh, Claire? We should?—”
“Mommy!” Oli ran up to us, bouncing out of his shoes. “Mommy, the penguins! They’re feeding the penguins! The man says it’s starting! Come on, hurry up!” He tugged on Claire’s hand, then grabbed mine as well.
“Come on, we’ll be late! It’s starting right now!”
I squatted down. “Wait, hold on, buddy.”
“No, no , get up! We have to go now!”
“The thing is, uh…” I frowned at my watch. How long could it take to feed the damn penguins? Only, they probably wouldn’t just feed them. They’d make a whole thing of it, a whole presentation. We’d be here till four, which would mean no Playland, which would mean —
“ Dad! ” Oli grabbed both my hands and tugged with all his might. He flung his whole weight into it. “Mom, make him come!”
Claire chuckled. “Oli, no pushing.”
“I’m not pushing. I’m pulling. Why won’t he come?”
“I will,” I said hastily, and got to my feet. “But, listen, we won’t have time to watch the whole feeding. We'll stop in and say hi, and then?—”
“Why not?” Oli’s face looked like one of those tragedy masks, lips drawn down in theatrical grief. I looked to Claire for help, but she shot me a warning look.
“We have plenty of time,” she said. “Let’s go see the penguins.”
Oli’s sad face lit up, and he skipped on ahead. I leaned into Claire, voice pitched for her ears.
“If we stay for the penguin show, we’ll be too late for Playland.”
“That’s fine,” said Claire. “This is great by itself.”
“But, hold on. I promised him Playland. If we don’t go, he’ll think?—”
“He’ll think what?”
I swallowed past a sudden lump in my throat. “He’ll think I’m the kind of dad who doesn’t come through. Who promises the moon, then I don’t deliver.”
Claire stared for a moment, and then she laughed. “Are you serious?”
“I only have six weeks to show him who I am.” I noticed heads turning and lowered my voice. “Look, I can’t let him down on day one. If I screw up today, that’s all he’ll remember. That, and me missing three years of his life. If we don’t make Playland… Please, Claire. We have to.”
Oli spun back to us. “Mom? Are you coming?”
“Coming,” said Claire. “But, listen kid. You have a choice to make.”
Oli’s face scrunched. “A choice?”
“It’s going to be dinner soon, and we need to get back. We only have time for the penguin show or Playland. You need to pick one.”
Oli danced on his toes. “The penguins are starting.”
“But do you want to see them, or do you want Playland?”
“Can’t we just go to Playland tomorrow?” Oli’s lip wobbled. “I want to stay here.”
“Then we’ll stay.” Claire knelt down and hugged him. “I’ll take you to Playland next chance I get.”
Oli sniffled and wiped his face on Claire’s jacket. It hit me right then, I’d almost sparked off a meltdown. When it came to kids, I was fresh off the Jeep, but I’d stormed in like a drill sergeant, schedule in hand.
“Come on,” said Claire. “Let’s go pick our seats.”
I followed, shamefaced, and we found seats near the front. Oli tried to stand in his and Claire sat him down.
“I can’t see,” he whined.
“Then switch seats with me.” Claire got up to give Oli her aisle seat. He grumbled at first, then he spotted the penguins, and his whole face lit up as they came waddling out. Claire breathed what I guessed was a sigh of relief.
“Sorry,” I whispered, as the presenter got going.
Claire glanced at me. “Huh?”
I smiled as a penguin did a loud belly-flop. Oli cheered, and the presenter tossed it a fish.
“I should’ve asked first,” I said.
“Asked about what?”
I gestured all around us, at the crowd, at the birds. “Today. All of this. About my whole plan. I thought, I don’t know, what do kids like? What would I have liked when I was his age? But it’s too much, isn’t it?”
“For one day? I’ll say.”
I looked down at Oli and felt like a jerk. He was laughing, excited, but his eyes had gone glazed. He had the same look I got working a double, pumped up from adrenaline, running on fumes. Claire had the look I got the next day — after the double, after the crash, when all I could do was faceplant into bed. No doubt, I’d cost her a much-needed rest day, dozing while Oli played catch with her dad.
“If it’s too much, we don’t have to do dinner.”
Claire studied Oli, biting her lip. “I don’t know about that. He’d love your spaghetti. But how about maybe we do it at our house? That way, he can eat and conk out right after.”
I was tempted to ask, would her parents be home? The thought of dinner with them was a nail-biting prospect. Not that the Everetts were especially scary, but I was the man who’d run out on their daughter. I’d left her pregnant and broken her heart, and now here I was, taking over their kitchen. But if I wanted to be part of Oli’s life, his gran and grandad would be part of that.
“Sounds good,” I said. And I’d make sure it was. Claire deserved that much, after the day she’d just had.
Her parents were home, but my nerves were for nothing. Whatever they might’ve felt about me crashing their lives, they made me as welcome as they had that Thanksgiving, the night I first knew I was falling for Claire. I made my spaghetti and Sharon helped, and Alan took Oli to watch some TV. He came and nudged Claire as I dressed the salad.
“You should get out the tray tables.”
“You want to eat in the den?” Claire peered past him, across the wide dining room.
“Oli’s drooping a bit, and that show just came on — you know, that nature one with all the monkeys. I’m worried if we move him…” He pulled a face.
“Good thinking,” said Claire. “Hey, Blake, could you grab those? They’re up in the cupboard above the fridge.”
I got down the tray tables and dusted them off, and carried them through to the sunset-lit den. Oli grumbled and squirmed when I set his on his lap.
“Easy there, bud. It’s just for your dinner.”
“I’m not a bug.”
“No, bud , not bug. Like, you’re my buddy.”
Oli scrunched up his legs and his table tipped over. Alan picked it up and set it to one side.
“Watch your monkeys,” he said. “You think they’d like spaghetti?”
Oli just grunted, and his little head dipped. I could see he was struggling to stay awake. Claire set down his dinner and plopped down on the floor, and set about cutting his noodles to size. Sharon came up behind me.
“Missed his nap, huh?”
I dipped my head, shamefaced. “Yeah. That’s on me.”
“I hear he had fun, though. The aquarium, huh?”
“We saw penguins,” said Oli, his voice thick with sleep. “Can penguins be pets? Mom? Can penguins be pets?”
“I don’t think so,” said Claire. “But we’ll go back real soon.”
“You think they’ll remember us?”
“Sure. Eat your food.”
Oli picked at his dinner, but he kept drifting off. I watched how Claire handled him, how she got him to eat. How she backed off when he started to grouse, then pushed one more bite on him when he laughed at the monkeys. I could see he was riding the edge of a tantrum, tired past the limits of self-control, but Claire had a million tricks to fend off the storm. When Alan, unthinking, snagged the last slice of garlic bread, Oli’s lip wobbled.
“But, I wanted?—”
“Dessert?” Claire sprang up. “You want dessert, right? We have ice cream, your favorite! Rocky road!”
Oli’s face crumpled, but then it un- crumpled. He smiled, tired and shaky.
“Yeah. Rocky road.”
After the ice cream, his monkey show ended. A bear show came on and Oli perked up.
“Can I stay up and watch?”
Claire tensed, and I saw Sharon did too. Oli’s eyes were too shiny. Brittle, like glass.
“ Please, Mom. I love bears. And I’m not tired.”
“But I am.” Claire did a theatrical stretch. “I don’t think I can stay up, but how about this? I’ll DVR the bears, and tomorrow I’ll make pancakes, and we’ll eat and we’ll watch them, then we’ll go to the park.”
“But I’m not tired tonight . And the bears are on now . Dad wants to watch them. Can’t I watch? Dad?”
I’d been put on the spot before, but never like this. Never by an overtired three-year-old kid. I felt like in bomb training, too big. Too clumsy. One tiny fumble and boom , crying child. Lovely day ruined, all thanks to me.
“Um,” I said. “Uh… you know what? I’m actually scared of bears, but could I read you a story?”
Oli’s tired eyes went round. “You’re scared? Of bears? ”
Claire stifled a snicker. Sharon’s shoulders relaxed. Oli gaped at me.
“They have big teeth,” I said, and bared mine, ratlike.
Oli giggled at that, and I sensed we were good. My cowardice had saved us. Oli cocked his head.
“What story can you read me? Not The Three Bears. ”
Everyone laughed, and I laughed along with them. Claire scooped up Oli, and we headed upstairs. We picked out a book to read and Oli seemed stoked, but two pages in, he’d fallen asleep. Claire tucked him in carefully and kissed his forehead, and switched on a nightlight shaped like a dog. Oli shifted and sighed when she killed the main light, but he didn’t wake up, and we backed out of the room. Claire sagged in the doorframe.
“Whew. That was close.”
“Yeah. That’s on me.”
She shook her head. “No, this was great. It wasn’t what I’d have planned, but Oli loved it. Just, maybe next time, we’ll plan in advance?”
My heart leaped with the knowledge there’d be a next time. I couldn’t wait to see Oli again. I couldn’t wait, either, to catch up with Claire, and all that I’d missed in the years I’d been gone. She’d changed, I could tell, and grown so much, and I wanted more than anything to find out who she’d become.
“I was thinking, maybe?—”
“I have an early— oh, sorry.” Claire cleared her throat. “Sorry, you were saying?”
I’d been about to suggest we go grab some coffee, and she’d catch me up on all I’d missed — Oli’s baby photos. Her graduation. What our old friends were up to, if they’d stayed in touch. But the bags under Claire’s eyes told me, not tonight.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just, yeah, for sure. Next time’ll be a cooperative effort. You need help cleaning up, or…”
“No, we’re okay.”
I didn’t know if I should hug her or just say goodnight, but Claire held her arms out, and I drew her close. I didn’t let myself think about how much I’d missed her, or how her arms around me felt like home. I squeezed her, but gently, and then let her go.
I drove around for a while after I left Claire’s, not wanting to sit in my dark, empty rental. But I couldn’t think of where else to go. I knew sort of where Sam lived from his pics on socials — a nice place in Germantown, close to a park. It wouldn’t be hard to find if I looked. But Sam hadn’t invited me, and he’d been distant. I’d meant to look up some other old friends, but I hadn’t got round to it with the whole shock of Oli. So I drove around as the city grew dark. I slowed in front of a diner that looked warm inside, but the families in the windows made me feel cold. How lonely would that be, a table for one, while all around me folks talked and laughed?
I drove by the bars I’d gone to in med school, and a few more upscale ones with wine-themed décor. People spilled out in pairs and in groups, young people mostly, but no one I knew. They made me feel old, though they looked around my age. The thought of joining them made me feel tired.
With nowhere to go, I circled back home. I headed inside and lay flat on the bed. It wasn’t late enough yet I could go to sleep, so I watched the pale blooms of headlights ride up my walls, cars going by on the street outside. Claire had once felt like home to me, but this town… it wasn’t. I’d left, and my old life had moved on without me.
My phone buzzed and I reached for it. Relief flooded through me when I saw it was work.
“Finley,” I said.
“Hey, Blake. It’s us.” A swell of music came through, and a muffled shout. “Hey, knock it off. Blake? You still there?”
“Hey, Rick.” I smiled. “What’s going on? Aren’t you on duty?”
“No, we’re— where are we?”
A muffled answer came back, all garbled with static. Rick made a snorting sound.
“We’re at this house party, this… uh — I thought it was a christening, some civvie’s new baby. But everyone’s just drinking.”
“Some German thing, maybe.” I checked my watch. “Isn’t it like three a.m. over there? I don’t think a newborn should be up that late.”
“Oh, the baby’s not here. At least, I don’t think it is. Anyway, I’m calling because?—”
“That him? Ask him!”
I grinned. “Ask me what? Who all’s there?”
“Brown, Smith, y’know. Reynolds and Wood.”
“Shit, you’re all there. Who’s minding the zoo?”
A couple of guys bawled out hellos. Rick hollered hi back for me. Someone called for a toast.
“ Ask him,” yelled Reynolds. “That shit’s long distance!”
I groaned. “Ask me what?”
“It’s this game,” said Rick. “Like trivia. We figured, with you being this massive nerd?—”
“Hey. We all sat through four years of med school.”
“Yeah, but you’re…” Rick laughed, and I could tell he’d had a couple. He wasn’t drunk, but he was loose, happy. “What do you call a bird’s nose?”
I frowned. “What, its beak?”
“No, that’s its mouth. What’s its nose called?”
“I don’t know, man. Its nose? I’m not that big a nerd.”
“He doesn’t know,” bellowed Rick. Somebody booed. I heard Rick get up and weave through the party, music swelling then fading as he passed by the speaker. A door slammed, and the noise dropped by half.
“Sorry,” said Rick. “Brown made me call. So, how’s your leave? Enjoying Memphis?”
I thought about telling him the whole ugly truth, how I’d stepped off the plane into a place that felt strange. How my best friends from college had blown me off. How I’d gone walking to lick my wounds and run headfirst into my surprise family. If anyone would get it, my Army buds would. A lot of them had girls and families back home. We’d been through it all — war, family drama. Long, bloody nights in the trauma OR. There was nothing on earth I couldn’t tell Rick, but he’d likely just come off a harrowing shift. The last thing he needed was one more wound to fix.
“It’s good,” I said. “Saw me some penguins.”
Rick snorted. “Penguins, huh? And what’s their nose called?”
“This game you’re all playing, is it in German?”
“Yeah, it is. Why?”
“Because, no way in hell you translated that right. Birds don’t have noses. They have nostrils. That’s it.”
“Then what are their nostrils called?”
“I don’t know. Holes?”
We went back and forth a while, scoring points off each other, till Rick remembered his long-distance bill.
“You’re useless,” he said.
“Yeah, love you too.”
I hung up feeling better, or at least less alone. Rick and the guys weren’t family, but they were the closest I’d had. Except, I had Oli now. My flesh and blood. He was my family in the literal sense, and Claire as well, and even her parents. How could I be there for them, and for my patients? Reynolds had tried, but his wife had still left. Brown’s had left too, and she’d taken their kids. Wood and her husband were still hanging on, but I’d heard her tell Brown he was never home nights. She’d called home one time and got some woman — the cleaner, she said. But who cleaned at night?
I lay and stared at the ceiling and tried to picture next steps, how I’d bond with Oli. How I’d stay in touch. How I’d show Claire I’d be there for him and not let him down. But all I could see were the oceans between us, the seven-hour time difference, our busy lives. What could we have here? What could I do? How could we be a family? What did that mean?