“Okay, six weeks. We’ll all pitch in while she’s gone.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“No, sir, I’m not. The point is that Mom’s going whether you approve or not. Why make things hard on her? Don’t you want her to be happy?”
With a surge of regret, I thought back to the argument I’d had with Catheryn the previous evening. I had stopped by the house in Malibu to pick up some clothes. Before I’d left, bitter words had been exchanged between us. Typical of arguments rooted in a soil of deeper disagreement, topics had germinated and developed and grown, one familiar hurt following another. “It’s as though you’ve become a stranger,” Catheryn had said as our words spiraled past the point of no return, wounding us both like flying shards of glass. “I don’t even know what you’re thinking anymore. I don’t even know how you feel about me.” And to my shame, I had been unable to respond. Now, confronted by my children, I once more found myself at a loss for words.
At last I spoke. “Let me tell you kids something,” I began uncertainly. “Things aren’t always as simple as they seem, but I’m going to try to answer your question-after which this subject is closed. Of course I want your mom to be happy. I’m proud of what she’s doing, and of course I support her going on tour. That’s not the problem. The truth is, I can’t explain what’s going on. Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older. Maybe not. I still don’t, but I do know one thing: Even though two people love each other, sometimes things go wrong between them, things no one can fix.”
“So when are you coming home?” asked Nate.
“I’ll be back the day after tomorrow to take care of you and Ali while your mom’s in Europe.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know, Nate,” I said. “I don’t know the answer to that.”
“Mom said something about the possibility of your joining her for a few days in Europe,” Travis interjected hopefully.
“Maybe,” I said. “That was before last night. I’m going to see your mom again this evening and try to straighten things out. I want it to be a surprise, so don’t say anything, okay? As for joining her in Europe, that’s doubtful. If I do go, though, Grandma said she’d be available to stay with you. Christy said she would be around, too,” I added, referring to Tommy’s steady girlfriend before the accident. Christy lived nearby, and after Tom’s death she had remained a close family friend.
“When you see Mom next, try being nice for a change,” said Allison. “It’ll be easy. Just make believe you’re somebody else.”
“Thanks for the advice, Ali,” I said, trying not to smile and further encourage her insubordination. Then, changing gears, “Now, as Travis pointed out, Kate’s leaving soon. Trav, you may be living at USC during the week, but while she’s away I want you home every weekend to help. It’s a short drive across town.”
“No problem,” said Travis.
Turning to Allison and Nate, I continued, “During the week, it’ll mostly be just the three of us, so-”
“Don’t forget Callie,” Nate interrupted.
“Okay, the four of us. During that time I want your homework done and all chores completed without fail. I’ll expect full cooperation, devotion to duties, and no back talk. Allison, that last part goes double for you.”
Allison brought her hand to her forehead in a sloppy salute. “Aye, aye, Pop.”
“And don’t be such a wiseass. You’ll get along a lot better in life.”
“Like you, Dad?”
“Yeah, like me,” I said. “Now, if there’s nothing else, it’s time for you three to shove off. You’ll just have time to make the last Mass, after which there are probably plenty of things you could do to help your mom get ready.”
“We’re leaving,” said Allison. “But I’m glad we had this little talk. Communication is so liberating, don’t you think, Dad?”
“Beat it, Ali.”
“Right, Pop.”
Side by side, Allison and Travis headed down the hill. Callie, who during the past minutes had been prowling the bushes-undoubtedly in search of something to fetch-bounded out to join them. Nate lagged behind, hands sunk deep in his pockets. Struck by something in his manner, I called after him. “Nate, come back for a sec. Allison and Trav, keep going. Your brother will join you shortly.”
Callie noticed Nate turning back. She hesitated, then started again for the car, apparently deciding the prospect of breakfast outweighed loyalty, at least until after she had eaten. Dejectedly, Nate returned, eyes averted.
I knelt and absently began pulling blades of crabgrass from the lawn. “What’s up, kid?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, sure. You’re a barrel of laughs this morning. Come on, talk to me.”
Nate’s gaze drifted to Tommy’s plaque. Seconds passed. “You miss him a lot?”
“Yeah, I do,” I answered.
“Me, too.”
“I know you do. We all do.”
“Do you think Tommy’s in heaven?”
“I don’t know, Nate,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. “I would like to believe all the stuff they teach you in church about souls and heaven and all, I truly would. Only… well, if there is a heaven, I’m sure Tommy’s up there,” I finished lamely.
“Do you think he can see us? Maybe hear what we’re saying?”
“Maybe. Why?
“I… I never got to tell him good-bye.”
I nodded. “There’s a lot I never got to tell him, either. But I think he knew how we all felt.”
Nate glanced away. “Dad, sometimes unless I think real hard, I can’t remember his face. I have to look at a picture of him to remind myself.”
“That’s natural, son. Life goes on.”
“Will you ever forget?”
“I don’t know. Come on, Nate. Is this what’s eating you?”
“Sort of. Last night when you and Mom-”
“Nate, that discussion is over,” I interrupted. “With the exception of those calls we keep getting about your fighting at school, last night’s disagreement had nothing to do with you.”
At the mention of school, Nate’s face closed like a fist.
Abruptly, I realized what was wrong. “You think the argument between your mom and me was because of you?”
Nate didn’t answer.
Unconsciously, Nate started working on his nails again. This time I let it go, struck by the web of hurt and misunderstanding that had ensnared our entire family since Tommy’s death. “That argument wasn’t your fault, Nate,” I said gently. “And anyway, a little scrapping at school is normal for a boy your age, as long as you don’t overdo it. Too much of a good thing can get you sidelined.”
“But…”
“Nate, the spat last night between your mom and me may have started as a discussion of your so-called brawling in the classroom, but things definitely progressed from there.”
“Mom was really sad after you left.”
I stared at my hands. “I know.”
“Dad?”
“What?”
“Do you still love Mom?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then why don’t you come home?”
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Are you and Mom going to get divorced?”
“Jeez, Nate. What are you saying?”
