A Ship Made of Paper

the chiropractic table.

Daniel, for his part, pretends not to notice.When he was young, he was curious to discover what lay behind his parents’ceaseless secrecy and re-serve, what horrible little habits they might conceal, what gooey sexual secrets, what hidden morsels ofbiography.Maybe they carried some deep malice, perhaps they weren’t really married, perhaps he was adopted, maybe his father was a quack, maybe his mother ended every evening in bed sniffing at a rag drenched in ether, and just maybe they werefrom outer space.It’s puzzling to him how his curiosity has per- sisted, but now he fears that ifthey were ever to suddenly confide in him he might want to clap his hands over his ears.It’s too late for that.His ef-fort has been to make peace with the people who raised him, the creaky couple who always winced ifhe raised his voice, the punctual pair who had a clock in every room and who marked the passing ofthe hours with their sighs, their meals, theirTV programs.Ifthey were to show him something different now, it would upset that peace, the treaty would be nullified, he would have to start to try to understand them, and he did not care to.

Somehow, in their little exchange ofglances, it is decided that Carl will present the problem to Daniel.“We’ve made some changes in our will,”he says, in his calm, authoritative voice.“And Owen strongly ad-vised us to go over them with you.”

“Okay,”Daniel says, stretching the word out.He is looking closely at his father, imagining himself looking like him in forty years.Worse things could happen.Carl is fit, leaner than Daniel is now.His blue eyes are sharp beneath spiky, emphatic eyebrows.There is something strange in the intensity ofhis father’s gaze.When he looks you in the eye it doesn’t feel like frankness, it feels like aggression.His hair is still dark and abun-dant, his posture a living advertisement for his particular branch ofthe medical arts.He looks scrubbed, well rested, prosperous—pleased with life, and pleased with himself.Julia, however, is starting to age rapidly.

She has become frail, a little trembly, and her once imperious features look surprised by her own onrushing mortality.

“Well,”Carl continues,“as you know, in the past three or four years your mother and I have become much more involved in theWindsor County Raptor Center, over in Bailey Point.”

“No,”Daniel says.“As a matter offact, I didn’t know.”Raptor Center?

And then it hits him:his father’s eyes are those ofa hawk, an eagle, a falcon.

“Yes, you did,”Julia says, a little accusingly.“Don’t you recall my showing you pictures ofyour father and me at the center? Father had a falcon on his arm?”Her throat seems as ifit were irritated by the work oftalking, and she coughs into her hand.

“You know me, Mom.I have a terrible memory.But I do know the place.An old friend ofmine from fifth grade runs it.”

“Lionel Sanderson,”Carl says, with a smile.

”Right,”says Daniel.“How is he?”

“Overworked, but what dedicated man is not?”

“He remembers you, ofcourse,”Julia adds.“He often recalls the nice afternoons after school at our house.”

Daniel is both stunned and amused by the untruthfulness ofthis.First ofall, he and Lionel were never close friends and did not spend their time after school in each other’s company.And secondly,no onecame to the Emerson house after school, or on weekends, or during the summer, or any time at all, except to quickly call for Daniel and be on their way.His parents found the racket and clutter ofboys unbearable.The house itself was a meticulous and unfriendly place, and the pictures on the walls were ofskulls and spinal cords, giving the place a kind ofpermanent Hal-loween ambiance—a chilling, childless Halloween.But Daniel knows better than to challenge their take on the past—he has tried it before when other inconsistencies have arisen, and it has caused hard feelings.

“Well, it’s not that we have any plans to be kicking the bucket,”Carl says,“but we wanted you to know that we’ve decided to leave the bulk ofour estate to the Raptor Center.Right now, the whole operation is squeezed onto twenty-five acres, and there’s not a building on the prop-erty that doesn’t need some major repair.What they would like to do—”

“Need to do,”Julia says.

“Is double the acreage, and create facilities that can safely house fiftybirds.”

“I see,”Daniel says.He senses the injury ofwhat is being said, but he can’t feel it.It’s like cutting your thumb with a fine blade and seeing the little crease in the skin but not yet the blood.“Well, that sounds good.Raptors.”

“What we wanted to avoid at all costs,”Julia says,“is having you learn about this after we’re gone.And then feeling that we’ve done thisagainst you somehow.”

“Because nothing could be further from the truth,”Carl adds.

”Yes,”Daniel says.“Well.Raptors.You’re not planning some early departure scenario, are you?”He sees the confusion on their faces, clarifies.

”You know, ending it all.Suicide.”He raises his voice on that word, star-tles himself.

“Absolutely not,”says Carl.

”But we’re not getting any younger,”Julia says.“Dan, let’s concentrate on what is important here.Ifyour father and I thought you needed money, then ofcourse we would have left every penny we have to you.

But here you are.”She makes an encompassing gesture, indicating his of-fice, the Moroccan carpet on the floor, the glassed-in bookshelves, the antique oak file cabinets.“The Raptor Center is barely making it.”

“We’re assuming you must have salted away a pretty penny from that job in NewYork—or else why would you have retired from it?”

He’ll let that pass.“I just never knew you two were so involved with birds ofprey,”he says.

“It’s recent,”says Carl.“We don’t want this to cause any hard feelings.

Your mother and I have been talking this over for months, and that’s the most important thing, that there be no hard feelings.This is in no way meant to indicate what our feelings are for you, Dan.You’re our son.”

“Our only son,”says Julia.“Our only offspring.Our only family.”

“Are we talking about every penny you have?”asks Daniel.

”And the house,”says Carl.

”Not the contents, however,”Julia says, prodding Carl with one finger.

I couldn’t care less,Daniel thinks.Yet the affront ofthis is unmistakable.

I’m read out of their will?Why are they trying to punish me? Did I miss a Sun-day dinner? Did I fail to rake their leaves, clean their gutters, haul their empties to the recycling center?And then, in an instant, a huge and unhappy thought presents itselfto him:I came back here to be near them.And, in the next in-stant, the thought is gone.

Carl has opened his briefcase and produced a manila folder containing Polaroids ofthe various pieces offurniture and works ofart Carl and Julia have deemed the most valuable oftheir possessions.The grandfa-ther clock, with its long, tarnished pendulum, which Daniel was always forbidden to touch, the spindly nesting table, which he was also not al-lowed to touch, the blue willow setting for twelve, also out ofbounds, the purple and red Persian rug, which he was allowed to walk across, but only without shoes, the antique hat rack upon which Daniel was never permitted to hang his hat—parenthood came late to the Emersons, and when Daniel was born, they did not childprooftheir house, they house-proofed their child.

“Whenever you see something you really and truly want,”Julia says,

“just turn the picture over and put your name on it.”

“I don’t really see the purpose ofthis,”Daniel says.

”We wanted you to have first choice,”says Julia.

”First choice over whom?You don’t have any other children.Do you think the birds are going to want your china cabinet?”

Again, Carl and Julia trade worried glances, gesture back and forth, as ifthey are alone.

“This is exactly why we wanted to get this done when all three ofus could sit calmly together and hash it out,”Carl says.“We don’t want any misunderstandings.”

“The thing is, I don’t want your money.I make a decent living—Iam

charging you for this appointment, by the way.”Daniel laughs but is not surprised when his parents don’t join in.Once, about twenty-five years ago, he made his mother laugh at a knock-knock joke, but he hasn’t been able to get so much as a chuckle out ofeither ofthem since.