21 Berry
Berry
Leo is staring up at the Thunderjet, his favorite of the several static planes at the American Airpower Museum. It’s been
two days since I told him the swim lessons at the club were being canceled entirely. I thought a trip to the museum at Republic
Airport, where he could be around these aircraft we’ve visited so many times before, might cheer him up. As I watch him looking
up at the long slender fuselage and the bubble canopy of the cockpit though, he still seems blue.
“This one is Dad’s favorite too,” Leo tells me, just as he does every time we’re here, but his voice is lacking the urgency
it usually holds when he shares these details. Normally he seems to be so delighted by the specs and the history that he’ll
burst if he doesn’t share them. The monotone voice he’s using at the moment tells me he’s repeating these facts aloud only
for the comfort of doing so.
“It’s a fighter-bomber that first flew in 1946. It was the primary strike aircraft the US used in the Korean War. It flew
86,408 missions and was the first aircraft flown by the US Air Force Thunderbirds.”
I nod along as Leo talks, but my mind drifts as it sometimes does when he starts reciting facts and statistics at length.
He’ll continue talking about this plane for a while yet, but he’s not doing it for my reactions.
I’ll simply stand beside him, nodding periodically until he gets through it all.
He probably knows I’m not really listening. Instead, I’m thinking about Phil.
Last night, when I suggested this trip to the museum, Phil agreed to join us. He’s much better at talking about the technical
aspects of these planes, which makes him Leo’s favored museum companion. But then this morning he announced he was going back
up to Westchester to visit another office space. I’m tempted to search his location again to see if what he told me is even
true. I reach into my purse, thinking I’m going to do just that, when the phone starts ringing in my hand.
“It’s Harrison,” I tell Leo as an apology for interrupting his ongoing recitation about F-84s. Bringing the phone to my ear,
I ask, “What’d she say?” Leo is gazing at the wing of the plane in front of us, and I move a few steps away so he won’t be
able to hear Harrison’s response. Leo doesn’t know I asked his brother to invite McKenna to the house later. Just a quick
stopover before he takes her out for a coffee date.
“I’m feeling pretty confident that you’ve managed to turn this into the most awkward first date ever,” he says good-naturedly.
“It’s not even technically a date, but she said yes about coming over.”
I do feel bad about that. I’ve been all over Harrison to meet a girl, and then the first time in recent memory that he tells
me he’s taking someone out, I make it all about Leo. As usual.
Leo moves toward the tail of the plane, farther out of earshot.
“I just think it’ll give Leo some closure to be able to say goodbye.”
I tried to convince Leo to call her, but he hates talking on the phone to people he doesn’t know that well. The pressure for
immediate responses is too much for him.
“You can keep it super brief,” I tell Harrison. “Dad and I don’t even have to come downstairs. We can hide!”
Harrison laughs at that. “You don’t have to hide,” he says in a tone that tells me he thinks I’m ridiculous. “She doesn’t
even think this is a real date, I bet. And she seemed grateful to have another opportunity to see Leo. It was . . . nice.”
He sighs lightly, and I think to myself that this boy’s got it bad for the swim teacher.
Three hours later, I see an old Toyota Camry pull into our driveway, and I hurry up the stairs. Even though Harrison said
I didn’t have to hide, it’s not so hot for a guy in his mid-twenties to bring a date to his parents’ house before they’ve
ever even gone out. The least I can do is make myself scarce.
Phil is on his way down the stairs, but I intercept him with a conspiratorial whisper.
“No! We’re hiding!”
“Oh, come on,” he says, glancing at the front door. “For real?” But he smiles as he says it, as if he’s game to play along.
“Yes!”
I take hold of his wrist to start pulling him up the stairs. He laughs and says in a loud whisper, “Better hustle if we don’t
want to get caught.”
With my fingers clutching his wrist, we scurry away from the foyer, and I wonder how long it’s been since we’ve touched in any meaningful way.
I want to let out a breath at the feel of his warm skin under my hand, something so familiar I hadn’t realized I was missing.
But there’s something else frothing inside me too.
Anger and resentment. I was so distracted by Harrison’s phone call earlier that I never did check Phil’s location.
If I had, maybe I’d have gotten some answers as to why my husband has pulled so far from me that we barely even touch anymore.
It started with his mother’s death, but everything has continued unraveling.
We’re at the point that now we just feel like a cliché, a middle-aged married couple that never gets along.
Except for rare moments like this one, when we do. It’s all so confusing.
At the top step, I drop his arm just as the doorbell rings.
“I’ve got it!” Harrison calls from the kitchen below.
Now that we’re out of sight, I can’t help lingering at the top of the landing to hear what happens down below. Phil rolls
his eyes at me, but there’s a warmth to it. He shakes his head a little and then fixes me with an expression I can’t quite
name, a mix of fondness and anxiety. Before I can properly label it, he stalks off to our home office, leaving me to my eavesdropping.
“Hi,” I hear them say to each other at the same time, and then they both laugh.
“Thanks again for coming,” Harrison says, and it sounds like his voice has dropped a couple of octaves. “Come on in.” The
commotion of the door closing and her shoes against the wood floor drown out whatever quiet words he says next, but then his
volume rises. “Leo!” he calls into the house. “Come see McKenna!”
“Hey, so . . .” McKenna says, “I was thinking maybe Leo and I could go for a walk around the block, if you think he’d be cool
with that.”
My heart swells when I hear it. I don’t know how this young woman has managed to figure out my son so well in such a short time, but taking a walk with him is exactly the right thing.
The movement will provide sensory input and stimulation that will help him stay calm during what could potentially be an overwhelming conversation.
A walk also reduces the pressure for eye contact.
“Yeah, of course,” Harrison says. “As long as it’s okay with Leo.”
“As long as what’s okay with me?” Leo asks as he approaches them.
“Hi,” McKenna says. “Want to go for a walk?”
Leo must nod in response because McKenna says, “See you in a bit,” and then the door clicks closed.
A couple of seconds tick by with me still rooted to my spot, and then Harrison calls up from the foyer. “Why not hurry to
the window so you can get a look at her?” There’s a bit of glee in his voice, probably because he’s busted me.
I feel my chin rise an inch as I respond in the most dignified voice I can muster. “I will do no such thing.” Then I also
head to the home office, even though the windows sadly face the backyard.