'Where'd you get that?' Nora blurts as a smile lifts her cheeks. In seconds, she's out of her seat.
On the opposite side of the log fence, my dad's holding on to a leather strap, which is attached to a gorgeous chocolate brown horse.
'She's beautiful,' Nora says, squeezing between the horizontal logs of the fence. 'What's her name?'
'You were gonna kiss him, weren't you?' my dad asks, his eyes even wider than usual.
'Kiss who?' Nora asks as she points at me. 'Him?' My dad nods vigorously. 'Not a chance,' she says.
'I think you're boyfriend and girlfriend,' he says, giggling.
'You're very smart.'
'You maybe gonna get married?'
'I don't know about that, but I wouldn't rule anythin--'
'Nora,' I interrupt. 'He doesn't--'
'He's doing just fine.' Turning back to my dad, she adds, 'You raised a good son, Mr. Garrick. He's the first real friend I've had in . . . in a while.'
Hanging on her every word, he's mesmerized. Suddenly, his lips start to quiver. He tucks his thumbs into his fists. I knew this was going to happen. Before it even registers with Nora, his eyes well up with tears and his forehead furrows with anger. 'What's wrong?' she asks, confused.
His voice is the enraged cry of a little boy. 'You're not gonna have me at the wedding, are you?' he shouts. 'You weren't even gonna tell me!'
Nora steps back at the outburst, but within seconds, she extends her hand to reach out. 'Of course we'd--'
'Don't lie!' he yells, slapping her hand away with the edge of the leather strap. His face is bright red. 'I hate lies! I hate lies!'
Nora takes another step toward him. 'You don't have to--'
'I do what I want! I can do what I want!' he screams, tears streaming down his cheeks. Like a lion-tamer, he swings at her again with the leather strap.
'Dad, don't hit her!' I shout, racing for the fence. Nora can't handle this one. She backs away just as he swings again. From the look on her face, I can tell she's taken aback, but she's still determined to break through. Counting to herself, she times it just right. He takes another full swing with the strap, and before he can wind up again, she rushes forward. Just as I hop over the fence, she opens her arms and takes him in. He fights to pull away, but she holds tight.
'Shhhhhh,' she whispers, lightly rubbing his back.
Slowly, he stops struggling, even as his body continues shaking. 'How come you . . .'
'It's okay, it's all okay,' she continues, still holding him. 'Of course you're invited.'
'F-For sure?' he sobs.
She lifts his chin and wipes away the tears. 'You're his father, aren't you? You're the one who made him.'
'I did,' he says proudly as he tries to catch his breath. 'He came from me.' With all five fingers erect, he picks at the edge of his nose with his middle one. Growing more confident, he once again wraps his arms around her. He's still sobbing, but the gleam in his eyes tells the story. They're tears of joy. He just wanted to be part of it. Not left out.
In a moment, the whole thing's over. Still in Nora's arms, he's pressing his head against her shoulder, rocking back and forth. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She's got it all taken care of, and for the first time, I realize that's her gift. Identifying with what's missing. That's what she knows. A life that's half-complete.
'Is this your horse?' Nora finally asks, noticing my dad hasn't let go of the leather strap of the chocolate horse.
'T-This's Comet,' he whispers. 'She belongs next door--to Mrs. Holt. Laura Holt. She's nice too.'
'She lets you take care of Comet?'
'Clean her, groom her, feed her,' my dad says, his voice rising with excitement. 'First the curry comb, then the dandy brush, then the hoof pick. That's my job. I have a job.'
'Wow--a job and a son. What else do you need?'
He shrugs and looks away. 'Nothing, right?'
'That's it,' she says. 'Nothing at all.'
* * *
As my car leaves the parking lot and bounces along the path of the dirt road, Nora and I each have a hand out the window. We're throwing parade-float waves at my father, who's frantically waving back after us. 'Goodbye, Dad!' he shouts at the top of his lungs.
'Goodbye, son!' I reply. He saw the name reversal in an old movie and immediately fell in love with it. Since then, it's become our customary way to say goodbye.
Pulling back onto the rolling roads of Virginia, I check the rearview mirror. Harry and the tan Suburban are right there.
'Wanna try to lose him again?' Nora asks, following my gaze.
'Funny,' I say as I turn onto Route 54. Over my shoulder, the sun is finally starting to settle into the sky. Nothing left to do but ask. 'So what'd you think?'
'What's to think? He's wonderful, Michael. And so's his son.'
She's not one for compliments, so I take her at her word. 'So you're okay with all of it?'
'Don't worry--you have nothing to be ashamed about.'
'I'm not ashamed. I just . . .'
'You just what?'
'I'm not ashamed,' I repeat.
'Who else have you told about him? Trey? Pam? Anyone?'
'Trey knows--and I told him he could tell Pam, but she and I never had the conversation ourselves.'
'Ooooooh, she must've been plenty mad when she found out.'
'What makes you say that?'
'Are you kidding? The love of her life holding back on her? It must've broken her little heart.'
'The love of her life?'
'C'mon, handsome, you don't need X-ray specs to see this one. I saw how she was holding your hand at the funeral. She's dying to put the smoochie on you.'
'You don't even know her.'
'Let me tell you something--I've met her type a hundred times before. Small town predictable. When you walk into her bedroom, she's already got her clothes picked out for the next day.'
'First of all, that's completely wrong. Second, it doesn't even matter. We're just friends. And good friends at that, so don't pick on her.'
'If you're such good friends, why weren't you the one to tell her about your dad?'
'It's just the way I deal with it. Whenever I bring it up, people get self-conscious and they suddenly have to prove they're sensitive.' Keeping my gaze locked on the power lines along the road, I add, 'It's hard to explain, but there're times you just want to let it go. Or maybe grab them by the face and shout, 'Back off, Barnum, it's not a sideshow.' I mean, yes, it's my life, but that doesn't mean it's out there for public consumption. I don't know if that makes any sense, but . . .'
Out of the corner of my eye, I get a quick look at Nora. Sometimes I can be such a dumb bastard. I actually forgot who I was talking to. She's Nora Hartson. Just reading USA Today, you'd know who she was named after, her college major, and the fact that she spent her last birthday climbing Mount Rainier with the Secret Service. Turning my way, she raises a single, trust-me-on-this-one eyebrow. To Nora, it makes perfect sense.
* * *
'Hiya, Vance,' Nora says to the guard at the Southeast Gate of the White House.
'Good evening, Ms. Hartson.'
