If You Only Knew
Page 40

She loved her new job and had a lot of stories to share, which was different—before, she’d talk only about her clients, whom I viewed as tragically old. Now she had stories about the haughty yoga instructor, or the wardrobe consultant who cried when Mr. Zeigler flashed her, or the kids who came up to play violin and piano or sing for the residents. For the first time, it seemed that Mom was suddenly the more interesting parent. We knew Dad’s staff and clients...but Mom had a whole new cast. Not that I still didn’t love him best, of course. He was just a little...predictable.
One Friday night, it was just Dad and me, that rarest of treats, and he said he had to make a quick phone call before we could watch our movie. He went into the den, and I waited in the living room, patiently at first, then not so much. Our movie was Edward Scissorhands, and Lisa, my best friend, had seen it twice already, and said I’d love Edward because he was so beautiful and strange, and I’d had the movie on the waiting list at the library for months, and finally, finally, it was here.
So I sighed hugely and agreed to wait. “Ten minutes, honeybun,” Dad said.
After twenty, I went down the hall.
“I know, I do....Well, it wasn’t quite the same, but...Yes! Exactly....Really? You did?” He chuckled, that low, wonderful sound, and I felt an instinctive flash of jealousy.
“Daddy,” I said loudly. “Are you gonna be much longer?”
He looked up. “Oh! Hi, honey,” he said to me. He held up a finger. “Listen,” he said, “I should go. My princess and I are watching a movie. Edward Something.”
“Scissorhands!” I said. How he could forget the title...
“Scissorhands....I don’t know. I’ll ask.” He looked up at me. “Think a six-year-old would like it?” he asked.
“No. It’s too sophisticated.”
“Oh,” he said with a wink. “You hear that? Too sophisticated....Okay.” He laughed again. “Bye. See you Monday.” He hung up. “Want popcorn?”
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Dorothy. From the office.”
“It’s the weekend, Dad,” I said.
“I know, honey. But she’s lonely. She only has her little girl for company.”
“So?” I said. “She could get married if she wants. Maybe she likes it being just her and her daughter.”
“Maybe so,” he said. “Come on, let’s have popcorn. As long as you floss afterward.”
* * *
Not long after that came the day that changed everything. My soccer practice had been canceled due to rain, and I was looking forward to being in the house by myself. Rachel was at her riding lesson—she took a different bus on Tuesdays to get to the stable—and Mom was still at work.
But the spare house key wasn’t in the fake rock in our flower bed; the little space was empty, which meant whoever had used it last hadn’t put it back.
Feeling deliciously aggrieved and martyred, poor latchkey child that I was, without so much as a key, I walked around the house and tried the windows. All locked. Our neighbors had a key, but I didn’t want to go there. Mrs. Donovan was very nice, but Richie, her son, had just turned nine and asked if I was wearing a bra every time he saw me on the school bus.
I decided to walk downtown to Dad’s office, the better to martyr myself on the cross of adolescent suffering. It was quite possible that Dad would take me to the Corner Café and buy me a hot cocoa to make up for this sorry state. Even better, maybe he’d make Dr. Dan take me! Not that this had ever happened, but it could, at least in my imagination. Also, I might trip on our way there, coming dangerously close to an oncoming car, and Dr. Dan would grab my arm, pulling me out of harm’s way, saving my very life, and his hand would rest on my shoulder, warm and strong and comforting...
Of course, nothing would happen; that would be so gross. No, he’d just say something about how ten years could fly by, and he wasn’t going anywhere and he hoped that I’d come down to the office every week for cocoa, so we could talk. He’d smile at me, then go back to his lonely house—where we’d live someday as a married couple—and wait out the years.
Filled with this lovely dream, I walked in the cool rain toward downtown. My dad’s office was housed in the tallest building in Cambry, and the thrill of riding in an elevator had never left me. I pushed the button for the eighth floor and mentally reviewed stories I could tell Dr. Dan to entertain him and show him I was mature and insightful. Caleb Johnson’s spoiled tuna fish sandwich? No, too disgusting. Sydney Dane dating a ninth grader? No, because that might make me look a little young. Oh! Mr. Heisman’s limp, a subject of great speculation today at lunch. I could express my compassion for those less fortunate. “I think it’s a war injury,” I could say to Dr. Dan. “But he doesn’t like to talk about it. Understandable, of course.” As it turned out, Mr. Heisman sprained his knee while in a bouncy house with his daughter, but I didn’t know that then.
I got off the elevator and went down the hall into my dad’s suite. Dr. Dan was right there in the reception area, leaning on the counter where Lizzie the receptionist sat, a very handsome smile on his Swayze-esque face. “I’d go wherever you wanted,” he was saying. “Le Monde is fine with me, if that’s where you want to eat.”
Le Monde was a fancy restaurant on the Hudson River. My parents went there for their anniversary.
I felt the burning prickle of humiliation in my face before I completely understood that he was asking Lizzie on a date.