Accelerated (10 page)

He’d been mad at her when he went to bed. Furious. Now he wondered if he’d gone too far. Maybe he shouldn’t have told her to go to hell. She was Toby’s mother. She could see him,
should
see him. Spring vacation wasn’t so far off. Maybe Presidents’ Day. He’d see how it went until then and they could talk about it. After New Year’s.

He was shaky and everything looked fuzzy and unfocused. He was bad without sleep. But he made out the time on the kitchen clock. Nine o’clock. Why wasn’t Toby jumping on him demanding cartoons? Toby hadn’t slept past seven-thirty since he could walk. He plucked a pillow from the floor and sandwiched his head to shut out the light. He exhaled deeply and tried to relax. He should use the extra time to rest.

He threw off the pillows. Why wasn’t Toby insisting on waffles? Something had to be wrong. He sat up and listened, but there was nothing. His heart sped up as he approached Toby’s room. The door was closed, just like he’d left it last night with Toby sobbing on the other side. Now, Sean turned the knob and pushed it open.

The blinds were still drawn and it took a minute for the amorphous shapes to become the bed, the dresser, the papier maché totem pole he’d made for Toby’s fourth birthday. He saw Toby curled on top of the covers wearing his jeans and sneakers. He put his hand on Toby’s back to make sure he was breathing. A moment of relief was chased quickly by a sinking feeling. He’d helped Toby into his pajamas last night.

Toby’s face nestled against a piece of white, flimsy fabric. Sean tugged on it gently, but Toby had it in a vice grip. Luckily, Toby could sleep through just about anything and didn’t wake up while Sean worked the thing free. He held up the ratty T-shirt and got a flash of Ellie crawling into bed, the T-shirt grazing her mid-thigh. It was big enough for a sumo wrestler, but it was also, somehow, sexier than any lingerie she owned. She’d worn it to bed every night.

Toby had taken the T-shirt as a memento, the only piece of Ellie he could hold on to.

He sat on the ground cross-legged and held the T-shirt to his face. He breathed it in. Impossibly, it still smelled like her. Toby must have stolen it from the hamper after she left. Before it went into the wash. Smelling Ellie was not what Sean had expected, not what he’d wanted. But he sniffed it greedily, breathing in the smell of his wife until he couldn’t smell her anymore.

He wasn’t sure where the tears came from. They’d been shut off for months now, shoved down under all the reasons he didn’t need her anyway. He stayed like that, on the floor next to Toby’s bed for as long as it took for him to cry them all out. He did it quietly, even though he knew it would take a fleet of sirens to wake Toby if he wasn’t ready. When the tears dried up, he was almost disappointed. He wiped his face with the T-shirt and studied his son.

He was so small. How could he let Toby go off to Long Island for two weeks? Yes, she was his mother, but who knew what condition she was in? It was true, she’d sounded more like herself than she had for a long time. He hadn’t heard that speedy, manic tone that had fueled all their conversations in the months before she left.

The Spiderman suitcase Nicole had given Toby for Christmas lay next to the bed. He unzipped it. Inside were Tshirts, socks, underwear, and a pile of bite-sized candy bars. Toby had packed a bag. Sean didn’t even know he was capable of packing a bag. And he’d done it, no doubt, to go see his mom. To run away.

That’s when he noticed a piece of notebook paper on the floor. It was folded in half and on the front Toby had written “DAD.” He opened it slowly, prolonging the moment before he had tangible proof of Toby’s unhappiness. “Dear Dad,” the note said. The handwriting was neat and even. He’d put some work into it. “Don’t be mad or worry. I’m going see Mommy in Momtalk. I’ll call you when I get their. Love, Toby.”

It was so matter of fact. So reasonable.
Don’t be mad
. What about devastated, terrified, desperate? Sean truly sucked at this father thing. What if Toby hadn’t fallen asleep before sneaking out? What if he’d really done it?

He watched Toby sleeping peacefully, looking calm and angelic, not like a kid who’d almost walked out the door into New York City in the middle of the night. Anything could have happened to him out there alone. Anything. He reached out to touch Toby’s hair, but stopped himself. He didn’t want to risk waking Toby and catapulting him back to his shitty waking life. All he wanted was to grab on to Toby and squeeze hard—hard enough to show how much he loved him.

As if awakened by the mere suggestion of the squeezing, Toby stirred. He stretched his arms and legs. He rolled his head from side to side. His eyes opened slowly.

“Morning,” Sean said. It sounded so benign. So normal. Not at all right for a day he’d almost lost everything.

“Hi,” Toby said. It took him a few seconds to realize he was dressed and a few more to remember his escape plan. When he did, his eyes darted away from Sean’s like a trapped animal. Finally, Toby just looked up at him, guiltily.

He knew he’d cry if he told Toby what a great kid he was, that he loved him, that even though everything sucked now it would get better. Instead, Sean reached out and hugged him—not the superhuman squeeze, which would certainly have freaked him out—but a good long hug. “I know you want to see your mom.” He coughed, so his voice wouldn’t break. “I’m just trying to protect you, Tobe. Trust me on this.”

Toby nodded.

“No more running away, okay?”

Toby nodded again.

“Promise? Because I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” It was something people said, but he meant it more than anybody had ever meant it.

Toby nodded seriously, then noticed Sean was holding Ellie’s T-shirt. There was nothing to say. Everything and nothing. Sean handed over the shirt. An offering. Toby reached for it and tucked it under the covers.

“Come on.” He’d try to salvage the morning with an upbeat tone. “I’m going to make waffles, then we’ll get ready to see your grandparents.”

Toby unpacked the suitcase on his own and crumpled the note and threw it in the trash. He didn’t say much over breakfast, but doodled a picture of a dragon coming out of an apple pie. “Dad,” he said, finally, “I think Mom’s going to come to Thanksgiving.”

“No Tobe.” He shook his head. “She’s not.”

He didn’t look up from the drawing. “But she might surprise us.”

He couldn’t blame Toby for wishing it, expecting it. “Mommy’s not coming. But everyone else will be there. Just like always.”

Nicole and Kat picked them up in a taxi right on time and they made the annual trip across town to Dick and Maureen’s with a gaping hole where Ellie would have been. The trip only took twenty minutes, but as Toby and Kat argued over who’d find more chocolate turkeys, he replayed every Thanksgiving they’d been to over the past decade.

“It’ll be okay,” Nicole said.

“What?”

“Today,” she said. “It’ll be weird, but okay.”

“I know.” He’d never appreciated the fact that Maureen and Dick packed their place with family friends on Thanksgiving. All those bodies would fill the emptiness. There would be funny anecdotes and holiday banter. It would be fine. Or at least he thought he could get through it.

Nicole patted his leg as the taxi pulled up in front of their apartment building. “Family is good on holidays,” she said. “Even if it’s Dick and Maureen.”

He took deep breaths as the elevator pinged with every passing floor.

“I call we play Life first,” Toby said to Kat.

“No fair, I want to play the Gnome game.” They had games at home, but there was something about the ripped, dusty boxes from the seventies that lent Dick and Maureen’s board games an exotic flair.

“Okay, but then we play Life.”

“Deal.”

At the front door, he wasn’t sure what to do. Ellie always just let herself in. He rang the bell. Being here without her was all wrong. He felt like he was missing a leg or a hand, something crucial you never think about until it’s gone. When Maureen opened the door for them, she greeted them warmly, hugging Toby and Kat. “There are some turkeys hiding around the place, waiting for some hungry children to find them,” she announced, and they scattered. “Come in, let me take your coats.”

The apartment was quiet except for the sound of the kids finding chocolate turkeys. “I guess we’re the first to arrive.” He snuck a peek at his watch. He’d made sure to arrive fifteen minutes late so this wouldn’t happen.

“I thought we’d keep it intimate this year,” Maureen said. “Just us for a change.”

“Oh … great,” he said. At least there would be booze. He watched Nicole’s stunned expression and knew she was having the same thought.

After cocktails, they moved into the dining room, which was covered in a somber mauve on mauve wallpaper that matched the upholstery on the dark wood furniture. The chunky crystal chandelier loomed over them ominously. They sat at their seats, leaving Ellie’s chair empty. Maybe Maureen secretly hoped Ellie would show up, too.

Sean nodded enthusiastically to a waiter in a white shirt and bowtie who was offering to refill his wine. The guy came to the apartment every year to cater the event. Ten years and Sean had no idea what his name was or what he did with the rest of his Thanksgiving. The waiter felt Ellie’s absence, too, Sean was sure of it.

He thought about the Thanksgivings growing up in Troy. Their dad used to chase them around the yard with a loaded hockey stick playing shoot the turkey. That was the only Thanksgiving ritual Sean could remember. After a few years, his mother got bored with turkey. One year she made a Thanksgiving curried goat and another year she made something she called Thanksgiving Surprise, which made everyone gag, so they ordered pizza. They sat around the TV eating pizza and laughing, saying they were thankful for playing cards, toothpaste, and Wacky Packs.

“Come on,” he called to the kids who were playing Life in the hallway. “Dinner.”

He watched Toby get up, look toward the front door expectantly, then come to the table, shoulders slumped. Across the table, he caught Nicole sucking down her third gin and tonic. If she started on a fourth, all bets were off.

“So, Sean, how are you and Toby getting along?” Dick asked. “We haven’t seen you boys in a while.” Dick wore his white hair combed slickly to the side like a boy on his way to church.

“Great,” he said. Dick probably didn’t want to hear about how Toby had almost disappeared into the night with his Spiderman suitcase and a pound of Halloween candy, or that he missed his mom so much he was sleeping with her old night shirt. He didn’t want to know that Sean had no idea how to deal with whatever Toby was going through at school. “Everything’s great,” he said again, this time with a presidential tilt of his head he’d seen Bush use on TV once.

“Splendid,” Dick said jovially. He sported a blue blazer with brass buttons and suspenders embroidered with wild turkeys. “I think you’ll enjoy the bird this year.” Dick puffed his chest. “It’s a fine specimen. Chased this guy a quarter mile before I finally nabbed him.”

Dick fancied himself a hunter and had joined a private Millbrook club to prove it. Twice a month throughout the fall, he drove out to the Mashomack Preserve to shoot at quail and pheasant that had been raised specifically for the purpose of being killed by Dick and other members of his tax bracket.

“And what about you, young man?” Dick turned to face his grandson. Toby pulled at the neck of last year’s button-down.

“Good,” Toby said.

“That’s not too convincing, son,” Dick said. “Tell me about school. What wonderful things is my alma mater filling your head with?”

Toby shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he exclaimed.

Why couldn’t kids just play along? Sean had prepped Toby on easy answers to questions just like this. “We’re doing money in math class” or “I’m learning how to make découpage in art” could have gotten him off the hook with minimal effort.

“Well I happen to know
that
is a lie, young man,” Dick said. “If there’s one thing we know for sure, it’s that you are being pumped full of fascinating facts and skills that will serve you throughout your lifetime. You’re a lucky young man to be at a school like Bradley.”

Across the table, Nicole narrowed her eyes. Had anyone else heard the snort? It was subtle, but audible.

Sean slurped his pea soup as loudly as possible. “Wow this is good, Maureen. Bacon, right?”

“Tastes more like ham hocks, actually.” Maureen turned to Nicole. “Everything all right, dear?” She poised the silver spoon at her lips.

Sean glared at his sister. She knew better. But that rarely stopped her.

Nicole grabbed a breadstick and crunched it aggressively. “Mmm.” It was more of a grunt than anything.

This was when Ellie would swoop in with a Topic. He wracked his brain. All he could come up with was P. Diddy’s love child, Lindsay Lohan’s latest arrest, and the top ten celebrity divorces of the year. He had nothing.

“Toby has a new teacher,” he blurted out. “She seems good, right, Tobe?” He realized a moment too late he’d made a tactical error. He was supposed to steer the conversation
away
from school.

“I’m sure she’s wonderful,” Maureen said. “Bradley has its pick of the litter.”

“Only the best,” Dick said, smugly.

Nicole’s nostrils flared.

Sean had to think of something benign, landmine-free. And quickly. “Crazy weather, huh?” He wished there were a hurricane or a tsunami somewhere to keep the conversation going.

“Even though the teachers are excellent, I’ve always felt that Bradley’s academic excellence comes from the exceptional children they admit.” Maureen smiled at Toby.

Nicole rolled her eyes and sat back heavily.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“Is something wrong?” Maureen’s eyebrows furrowed. She was oblivious.

“No,” Nicole said. “Of course not. It’s just impressive that we’ve already started talking about how
exceptional
Bradley is and we haven’t even had the salad course yet.”

“You disagree?”

“Not everyone here goes to Bradley,” she said, modulating her voice. “Remember?”