Along for the Ride (23 page)

When we got to the stairs, I turned to look at her. Instead of the Heidi I’d gotten used to seeing, clad in sweats and a ponytail, dark circles perennially under her eyes, this was a different woman entirely. Her hair was sleek, her makeup done, and she was wearing dark jeans, heels, and a fitted black top, a silver necklace with a key studded with red stones around her neck. This I recognized: we’d just gotten them in at the store the previous week, and they were already selling like hotcakes.

‘Wow,’ I said. ‘You look great.’

‘You think?’ She glanced down at herself. ‘It’s been so long since I could wear this stuff I didn’t even know if it would fit. I guess stress does burn a lot of calories, after all.’

Down the hall, I could hear Thisbe beginning to fuss. Heidi looked over, then turned on her heel, walking to her bedroom. I followed her to the doorway, leaning against it as she picked up her purse from the bed.

‘So I have to say,’ I said as she rummaged around, finally pulling out a lip gloss, ‘you sure seem different all of a sudden. And it’s not just the clothes.’

Thisbe was really crying now. Heidi bit her lip, then uncapped the gloss, putting some on. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I just… I’ve realized over the last couple of weeks that I needed to take some time for myself. We’ve talked about it a lot, actually.’

‘You and Dad?’

‘Me and Karen.’

‘Really,’ I said.

She nodded, dropping the gloss back in the bag. ‘Ever since the baby was born I’ve been so hesitant to ask your dad for any help. I’m so used to doing everything myself, and it wasn’t like he was really offering much.’

‘Or any,’ I said.

‘But Karen kept pointing out that you and your brother were just fine, and he was your dad as well. She said it takes two to make a baby, and at least that many to raise one well. Usually more.’ She smiled. ‘She made me promise her that I’d set up that girls’ night my friends have been wanting forever. I was dragging my feet, though, until Laura came. When she said pretty much the same thing, I figured they had to be onto something.’

I watched as she checked her hair in the mirror, adjusting a piece in front. ‘I didn’t realize you and Laura talked when she was here.’

‘Oh, we didn’t at first,’ she replied, picking up her purse. ‘To be honest, she kind of scared the crap out of me. Not exactly the warmest person, you know?’

I nodded. ‘No kidding.’

‘But then the night before they left, I was up late with Thisbe, and she came down for a glass of water. At first she was just sitting there, watching us, and eventually I asked her if she wanted to hold her. She said yes, so I handed her over, and then we just started talking. There’s a lot more to her than it seems at first glance.’

‘You should tell my mother that,’ I said. ‘She hates her.’

‘Of course she does,’ she said. ‘It’s because they’re so similar. They both have that whole cold, bitchy, wary-ofall-other-women thing going on. It’s like two magnets repelling each other.’

I thought of my mother just moments earlier on the phone, her voice so sharp and dismissive. If I wasn’t like her, she didn’t care to know who I was. ‘So you think my mom has more to her than that, as well?’

‘Of course she does. She has to.’

‘Because…’

She looked at me. ‘Because she raised you. And Hollis. And she was in love with your father for a very long time. Truly cold bitches don’t do that.’

‘What do they do?’

‘They end up alone.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘You sound awfully sure about that.’

‘I am,’ she said. ‘Because I was one.’

‘You?’ I said. ‘No way.’

She smiled. ‘Someday I’ll tell you all about it. But now, I’ve got to run and kiss my daughter and then try to leave without having a breakdown. Okay?’

I nodded and was still standing there, trying to process this, as she started into the hallway. When she passed me, she paused, bending down to quickly kiss my forehead before moving on, the smell of her perfume lingering behind her. Maybe it was to prove her point. Or just instinct. Either way, it was surprising. But not as much as the fact that I didn’t really mind it, not at all.

Later that night, I was walking to the Gas/Gro after work when I heard a car coming up behind me. A moment later, a newspaper landed with a slap at my feet.

I looked at it, then at Eli, who was now pulling up beside me. ‘So you have a paper route now?’

‘Technically,’ he replied as I picked up the paper, noticing the stacks of others piled up in the back of the truck, ‘my friend Roger has a paper route. But he also has the flu, so I’m helping him out. Plus, I thought it might apply to your quest.’

‘Delivering papers?’

‘Sure.’ He stopped the car, gesturing for me to open the passenger door. When I did, he said, ‘It’s a rite of passage. My first job was delivering the
Colby Coupon Clipper
on my bike.’

‘I’ve had jobs,’ I told him.

‘Yeah? What were they?’

‘I worked for a professor in the English department one summer, helping with a bibliography for his book,’ I said, as I slid inside. ‘Then I worked for my mom’s accountant as an office assistant. And all last year I did test prep at Huntsinger.’

Personally, I’d always thought this was a pretty impressive résumé. Eli, however, just gave me a flat look. ‘You,’ he said, hitting the gas, ‘definitely need a paper route. At least for one night.’

And so it was that, after hitting the Washroom, and Park Mart for a few incidentals, we pulled into a neighborhood just past the pier, driving slowly with a stack of papers between us, and a list of subscriber addresses in his hand. It was just after two
A.M
.

‘Eleven hundred,’ Eli said, nodding at a split-level off to the right. ‘That’s all you.’

I picked up a paper, getting a good grip, then tossed it toward the driveway. It hit the curb, then bounced into a pile of lawn clippings, disappearing entirely. ‘Whoops,’ I said. He pulled to a stop and I jumped out, retrieving it and throwing it again, this time doing a bit better, hitting the far right of the driveway. ‘It’s harder than it looks,’ I told him when I finally got back in the car.

‘Most things are,’ Eli said. Then, of course, he grabbed a paper, launching it at a house across the street in a perfect arc. It landed right on the front stoop, the delivery version of a perfect ten. When I just looked at him, speechless, he shrugged. ‘
Colby Coupon Clipper
, I told you. Two years.’

‘Still,’ I said. My next shot was a bit better, but too wide. It hit the lawn, and again I had to get out to move it to a safer, less wet spot. ‘God, I suck at this.’

‘It’s your second one,’ he said before launching another perfect shot at a bungalow with a plastic flamingo in the front yard.

‘Still,’ I said again.

I could feel him watching me as I threw another one, concentrating hard. It hit the steps (good) but then banked into the nearby bushes (not so good). When I came back from retrieving it, some brambles in my hair, my frustration must have been obvious.

‘You know,’ Eli said, tossing another paper and hitting another front stoop –
thwack!
– ‘it’s okay not to be good at everything.’

‘This is delivering papers.’

‘So?’

‘So,’ I said as he did another perfect throw, Jesus, ‘I’m all right if I suck at, say, quantum physics. Or Mandarin Chinese. Because those things are hard, and take work.’

He watched, silent, as I missed yet another driveway. By about a mile. When I returned he said, ‘And clearly, this doesn’t.’

‘It’s different,’ I told him. ‘Look, achievement is my thing, okay? It’s what I do. It’s all I’ve ever been good at.’

‘You’re good at doing well,’ he said, clarifying.

‘I’m good,’ I said, throwing another paper and doing marginally better, ‘at learning. Because I never had to involve anyone else in that. It was just me, and the subject matter.’

‘Indoors, working away,’ he added.

I shot him a look, but, as usual, he did not seem deterred. Or bothered in the least. He just handed me another paper, which I launched at the next house. It hit the driveway, a bit too much to the left, but he drove on anyway.

‘Life is full of screwups,’ he said, chucking another paper at a split-level before taking the corner. ‘You’re supposed to fail sometimes. It’s a required part of the human existence.’

‘I’ve failed,’ I told him.

‘Yeah? At what?’

I blanked for a moment, not exactly good for my argument. ‘I told you,’ I said, ‘I was a social failure.’

He took another turn, tossing a couple more papers as we cruised down a dark street. ‘You didn’t try to be homecoming queen and lose, though.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘I never wanted to be homecoming queen. Or any of that stuff.’

‘Then you didn’t fail. You just opted out. There’s a difference.’

I considered this as we cruised down another street. He wasn’t even handing me papers anymore, just throwing them all himself. ‘What about you, then?’ I asked. ‘What did you fail at?’

‘The better question,’ he said, slowing for a stop sign, ‘is what didn’t I fail at.’

‘Really.’

He nodded, then held up a hand and began to count off, finger by finger. ‘Algebra. Football. Lacey McIntyre. Skate-boarding on a half-pipe…’

‘Lacey McIntyre?’

‘Eighth grade. Spent months working up to asking her to a dance, and she shot me down cold. In full view of the entire lunchroom.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Tell me about it.’ He turned again, going down a narrow street with only a few houses on it.
Thwack
.
Thwack
. ‘Winning over Belissa’s dad, who still hates me. Convincing my little brother not to be such a chump. Learning to fix my own car.’

‘Wow. This
is
a long list.’

‘I told you. I’m very good at being bad at things.’

I glanced over at him again as we came to another stop sign. ‘So you never get discouraged.’

‘Of course I do,’ he said. ‘Failing sucks. But it’s better than the alternative.’

‘Which is?’

‘Not even trying.’ Now he did look at me, straight on. ‘Life’s short, you know?’

I’d never met Abe. Or even heard much about him, aside from the few things Maggie and Leah had said. But suddenly, in that moment, it was like I could feel him. Sitting in the very seat where I was, riding along with us. Maybe he’d been there the whole time.

Eli took another turn, and I realized we were in my dad’s neighborhood, the surroundings suddenly familiar. His house was quickly approaching, and on my side to boot. It had to be a sign. I reached over, picking up a paper from the stack between us. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘This one’s mine.’

I drew back my hand, trying to use my elbow for leverage the way I’d seen him do, and this time aimed not for the driveway but the porch. It came closer, closer, and at the exact right minute, I let it fly, watching as it arced high over the lawn… before landing with a slap on the windshield of Heidi’s Prius.

Eli slowed to a stop. ‘I know it’s family,’ he said, ‘but that demands a do-over.’

I slid out of the car – again – and walked over to grab the paper, tucking it under my arm. Then I crept up as slowly as possible to the porch, trying to be quiet as I bent to slide it onto the perfect center of the mat. Just as I did, though, I heard my dad’s voice.

‘… just my point! I wanted you to have what you wanted. But what about what
I
want?’

I shrank from the door, backing down one step as I glanced at my watch. It was almost three
A.M.
Entirely too late for most people to be up, unless something bad was happening.

‘Are you saying you don’t want the baby?’ Heidi said. Her voice was higher, shaky. ‘Because if that’s true…’

‘This isn’t about the baby.’

‘Then what is it about?’

‘Our lives,’ he replied, sounding tired. ‘And how they’ve changed.’

‘You’ve done this before, Robert.
Twice.
You knew what it was like to have an infant in the house.’

‘I was a child myself then!

I’m older now. It’s different. It’s…’

Silence. All I could hear was Eli’s car, the engine murmuring behind me.

‘… not what I expected,’ my dad finished. ‘You want the truth, there it is. I wasn’t ready for all this.’

All this
. Such a round, all-encompassing term, as wide as the ocean, which I could also hear, distantly – the real waves this time. But even with all that vastness, it was impossible to tell what, or who, it really included. It seemed safest to just assume everything.

‘This,’ Heidi said, ‘is your
family
. Ready or not, Robert.’

I had a flash of all those cul-de-sac games I never really played, but knew the rules to nonetheless. You hide: whoever is It counts down, and then – ready or not! – they came looking for you. If they got close, you had no choice but to stay put, hoping not to be found. But if you were, there was no wiggle room. Game over.

I could hear my father starting to say something, but I wasn’t a child this time, and didn’t have to stay and listen. I could leave, disappear into the night, which was vast, too, wide and all-encompassing, with so many places to hide. So I did.

‘Forgive the mess,’ Eli said, reaching inside the dark room for a light switch. ‘Housework is another one of my failings.’

In truth, his apartment was simply plain. One large room, with a bed on one side, a single wooden chair and TV on the other. The kitchen was tiny, the counters bare except for a coffeemaker, a box of filters beside it. Still, I appreciated his efforts to pretend otherwise, if only because it meant we weren’t talking about the fact that I’d pretty much lost it only moments earlier.

I thought I’d been fine as I backed away from my dad’s house, walking across the already dew-damp grass to the truck. Fine as I slid in, picking up another paper to throw. But then, Eli had said, ‘Hey. You okay?’ and the next thing I knew, I wasn’t.

It’s always embarrassing to cry in front of anyone. But bursting into tears in front of Eli was downright humiliating. Maybe it was the way he just sat there, not saying anything, the only sound my hiccuping sobs and loud sniffles. Or how, after a moment, he just drove on, throwing papers at houses while I looked out the window and tried to stop. By the time he’d pulled into the dark driveway of a green split-level house a block from the boardwalk, I’d gotten calmed down enough to be racking my brain for some way to play the whole thing off. I was thinking I’d blame sudden-onset PMS, or maybe my devastation at sucking so entirely at paper delivering. Before I could say anything, though, he cut the engine, pushing his door open.