Stones in the Road (38 page)

I’m sorry, sweetie.

I know. But it’s okay.

Really. I’m so sorry I hurt you. And I’m sorry that I’m not a good father.

You’re the best father, Daddy.

No, I’m not.

Yes, you are. You’re the best father ever.

You’re not lying?

Lying’s a sin.

And you love me?

Yes.

Are you sure?

Don’t be a doofus
!

I
RARELY
felt the need to bend God’s ear, but that night, sitting on the bed in Bill’s guest bedroom and watching Noah as he slept, I could not help myself.

“Please don’t take my boy from me,” I whispered into the darkness.

I wanted to add more, but what else was there to say? Whether you said “please don’t” or “please please please, I’m begging you, I’ll do anything you ask but please please please don’t!” it was the same thing. God would do whatever she was going to do, regardless.

Yes
, a voice seemed to say in the silence that followed,
but
what if I do
?

I did not know if this voice was “God” or simply my own subconscious, desperate for me to listen to things I didn’t want to listen to. I wanted to believe it was God, Jesus, the Sacred Heart, the Holy Trinity, or Buddha, or Allah, or Jehovah, or Zeus, or Holy Mary, Mother of God. I wanted to believe we could talk to God and be heard and responded to.

If I knew Noah would be taken from me, what would I do in the time we had left? I could waste that time dreading it, or I could….

What?

So far, we’d been lucky.

Luck
? Mama would say.
Please! God has been watching over you
.

Maybe so, Mama.

It could end tomorrow. It could end next year. Or five years from now. Or maybe Noah would keep right on keeping on like the trooper that he was. The not knowing was killing me.

What would happen if I simply let it go?

“Do not be anxious for the morrow,” Jesus had said.

What could all this worry do? Could it add one minute to Noah’s life? Could it hold back the inevitable?

Of course not.

I undressed, crawled into bed with Noah, eased my arm under his head, and pulled him close.

There was no way to know the future. But, as Papaw used to say, it ain’t over till that fat Italian bitch bursts your eardrums with her goddamn Christless screeching.

“I love you, sweetie,” I whispered in the darkness. I kissed the side of his face, sniffed his hair, stared at him for a long time, trying to memorize all his features.

A weight seemed to slip off my shoulders as I watched his chest rise and fall, felt his warmth mingling with my own, felt his life pulsing and vibrant, coursing through his body, filling the room, filling me, filling my life with the most exquisite happiness I had ever known.

For the first time in what seemed an eternity, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“D
ON
’
T
YOU
ever return phone calls?” my agent, Jean, asked straight off.

It was the following day, and I had just finished my shift at Food World.

“I haven’t been paying much attention to my phone lately,” I said.

“I was so sorry to hear about your grandpa, Wiley. And the tornado. How dreadful!”

I said nothing.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah.”

“You all right?”

“Tired, I guess.”

“I have some good news for you.”

“Oh? I thought you were calling to tell me you were going to drop me because I don’t make any money for you anymore.”

“Wiley!”

“It’s true.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Have you checked your bank account?”

“Not recently.”

“I deposited your rather sizeable quarterly earnings the other day. Haven’t you checked?”

“No.”

“I think you’ll be pleased.”

“Really?”

“Really. And I’ve got something else I think is going to make you very happy. But first, how are you, Wiley? I haven’t been able to get a lot of information, and you haven’t been returning calls. You broke your leg?”

“My arm, actually. Not my leg. Some ribs. My face.”

“Your face?”

“Cheekbone. A fracture or something. Painful as all get out.”

“Good!” she said heartily.

“Good?”

“Well, for our purposes. I was telling someone you tried to save your grandpa, going back into the house….”

“Oh?”

“And they want to do an interview.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a young lady who works for
USA Today
. She’s always asking me for author-related tidbits, something to spice up their book page. She’s doing a review of
Crack Baby
.”

“Really?”

“It’s been slow going so far with that book, but I knew people would catch on. Just a matter of time. I suggested it to her, actually. Single gay man, raising a deaf child—it sort of sells itself, Wiley. I sent her a link to a story about the tornado there, and now she wants to do a feature on you.”

“That’s great,” I said.

It had been a rather long time since I’d been mentioned in a publication like
USA Today
.

“Are you working on a sequel?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you have any idea how much trouble this book has gotten me into? Everybody and their mother is pissed off at me.”

“But you’re getting a lot of good reviews. You were bound to ruffle a few feathers. And people want to know more.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Think about it. Please?”

W
ANT
TO
see the ocean?

What
?

Noah blinked, wiped sleep from his eyes.

It was early Monday morning, and I woke with the sudden urge to go somewhere and do something crazy. To just disappear for a couple of days. To take a few sick days and put Tupelo, Mississippi, in the rearview mirror. To remind myself that there was more to life—a whole great big world out there just waiting for us.

Want to go skinny-dipping in the ocean
? I asked.

Really
? he signed, suspicious.

Really.

The ocean is really, really far away, Daddy.

I know! Get your butt out of bed. If we hurry, we can be there tonight.

Really?

Really!

But we can’t just—

We can do anything we want to, sweetie.

But it’s so far away!

I know. That’s why it’s fun. You going with me
?

He offered a brilliant smile as he threw off his blanket and jumped to his feet.

We’re going to the ocean?

Yes!

Why?

Because I want you to see it, sweetie. Now get ready… but be quiet. I don’t know want anyone to know we’re leaving.

Why?

Because they’ll try to stop us. Now hurry up
!

He scampered off to the bathroom.

In less than twenty minutes, we were creeping soundlessly through Bill’s house and making our way out the back door.

In less than two hours, we were crossing the border into Alabama. We gave up on the air conditioner and rolled the windows down.

Look
! Noah signed excitedly as we passed the “Welcome to Alabama” sign.
We’re in A-l-a-b-a-m-a!

What’s after that
? I asked.

His face scrunched up. Finally, he suggested,
F-l-o-r-i-d-a
?

I frowned and shook my head.

Wait
! he signed.
I know… let me think
….

He stumbled through Louisiana and Texas before he finally hit on Georgia.

Near Huntsville we picked up a rock and roll station, and when “Sweet Home Alabama” came on the air, I gave Noah a spirited rendition, bouncing around in my seat. Once he figured out the beat, he bounced along with me, singing, “Hoo hoo awk!” in what he thought might be the rhythm.

We got looks, me and my boy.

At noon we stopped at the Golden Arches for food and a trip to the bathroom.

Why are we going to the ocean
? he asked, his face serious as he finished off my french fries.

Because we need to
, I said.

I don’t understand, Daddy.

I know you don’t. But we need to. We’re a family, you know, and we should have a family vacation just like everybody else. We should do whatever we want. And from now on, that’s what we’re going to do. We’re not going to listen to anyone ever again. We’re going to do whatever we want to do, and we’re not going to be afraid anymore.

Why?

Because it’s you and me.

I don’t understand.

People are always telling us what to do, and they’re not happy unless we do everything they want. But we have to live our own lives, not them. So we should do what we want to do. Right? And we have to learn to not be afraid anymore. You understand
?

He sipped his soda, frowned.

There’s a big world out there, sweetie.

How big?

Really, really big.

As big as the m-o-o-n?

A lot bigger. As big as the sky and the m-o-o-n and the ocean and then a lot bigger still. Haven’t you ever wanted to go see it?

How do we get there?

We just get in the car and drive. That’s all. Like we’re doing. From now on, if we want to go see something, we’ll just go see it.

Can we go on a train?

Sure!

Can we go to C-h-i-n-a?

Maybe someday, sure, but we’d have to take an airplane.

You mean fly?

That’s right.

All the way to China?

All the way to China
….

He smiled happily as he thought about this.

I wish Papa could go with us
, he said.

Maybe the next time he will
, I said.
But this time, it’s just you and me. We’re not going to worry about tornadoes or Papa or anyone going away or Memaw’s house or anything else. We’re going to swim in the ocean all day and sleep all night and eat lots of food and have fun.

Does Memaw know where we’re going?

No.

Why not?

It’s our secret. Anyway, I’m a big boy. I don’t need Memaw’s permission. And you’re getting to be a big boy too. Maybe it’s time for us to act like big boys.

Okay
.

I could see he was completely lost, but that was all right.

I
DON
’
T
know what the sparse population of beachgoers at the beach in South Carolina thought of the two of us as we walked across the hot sand that evening. They had come prepared for a day at the beach. They had coolers, beach towels, fold-up chairs, books to read, iPods, plastic shovels and buckets for the kids, lots of sunblock to go around.

We had ourselves, and nothing else.

For a long time we stood, looking at the ocean, mesmerized at how beautiful it as, how vast, all that foamy water swirling around, the sky like a dark blue blanket watching over us.

It’s so big
! Noah exclaimed at last.
And look! There’s a boat way out there. It must be huge
!

We walked down the shore line away from the others and Noah picked up sea shells, grinning.

He was in no hurry to go swimming.

Come on
, I said at last.
Let’s go skinny-dipping before it gets too dark. You ready?

Is it safe?

No
, I said.
Nothing is really safe. But lots of people do it, and they’re fine, and we’ll be fine too.

You sure?

Of course I’m sure.

But I’m scared.

Don’t be scared. We have to learn to not be afraid anymore. Daddy’s here and Daddy will always be here, and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. Do you believe me
?

He nodded.

I removed my shorts and began to wade into the water. I turned to look at him as warm Atlantic water washed about my knees and splashed up my backside.

He grinned a goofy grin.

Come on
!

He looked around, suddenly nervous. He took a few steps.

Come on, sweetie,
I encouraged him.
You’ll be fine. We’re going to be fine.

Your cast is going to get wet.

I don’t care.

You sure it’s safe?

Of course I am.

We’ll get in trouble.

No, we won’t.

Someone will see us.

No, they won’t
.

I wasn’t too sure about that, but there weren’t many people on the beach. Anyway, I was not about to drive all the way to the Atlantic Ocean and not go skinny-dipping.

Maybe you’re too short to swim
, I suggested.

I am not!

You’re so tiny a goldfish might come along and eat you!

I am not
!

Come on, sweetie. You don’t have to be scared. You can wear your shorts if you want to. But come swimming with me. I want to tell my friends we went to the ocean and we went swimming and everything. They’re going to be so jealous!