Last Call (32 page)

But Hayden’s eyes are fine and he hasn’t had a drink since before Rosamond left. He takes the porch steps two at a time and dashes toward them. “Rosie! I thought you were dead as mutton! I checked every room in the hospital!”

The joy in his voice rings out across the lawn and his entire countenance is transformed by the instant return of his former vitality, like a tree awakened by spring. He hastily makes his way over to where the women are talking.

Hayden’s outpouring of concern overwhelms Rosamond and her eyes fill with tears. Never before has she been so thrilled to hear that strong and true baritone voice, the brogue rising up in places to serve as its own system of punctuation.

“Why didn’t you tell us if something was wrong?” says an anxious Hayden. But he’s come to better understand Rosamond’s dilemma and stops asking questions about her disappearance. “The vacation was a dumb idea. Won’t you just please come home?”

Rosamond wipes the teardrops from her cheeks. “No, the trip is a good idea. I just . . . I needed to talk to God.” And God had sent her back to Hayden, who was like a gigantic beam of light, illuminating what no one would have ever guessed was there in the darkness. She now realizes the moment has arrived when her love for Hayden can no longer remain a solitary one, in the manner that her heart had been conditioned to love for so long.

Hayden runs his fingers through his permanently unkempt hair and says, “That’s fine. I don’t mind that. But you’ll tell me if He starts talking back to you, right?”

chapter fifty-two

T
hat evening Hayden and Rosamond drive Joey to Park Slope for his Little League game. Only Joey doesn’t plead with Rosamond to sit with him in the back and play video games the way he usually does. All they hear from the backseat is the metronomelike slap of the ball into the mitt.

Joey is doing everything possible to make it clear that he’s still angry with Hayden for planning a trip and not including him, and that it’s not too late to get another ticket. Joey
always
goes with them. He could help teach Rosamond to golf and even carry her clubs. They could go ocean fishing for bluefin tuna and swordfish like the ones he saw reeled in on TV, and help net each other’s catch. Who is she going to fish with if he doesn’t go? Who is going to play hearts with her while Hayden rests? And who will supply all the newest video games, the ones he uses his allowance to trade up for at the computer store? Joey is convinced that Rosamond cannot possibly have a good time on this trip without him.

During the baseball game Joey doesn’t so much as glance at the two of them, either from the dugout or when he’s playing catcher and positioned behind home plate, practically right next to where they’re seated. At one point, with the best hitter in the league approaching the plate, Joey walks out to the pitcher and whispers something in his ear, which makes the pitcher smile and scan the bleachers as if he’s trying to locate someone in particular. To Hayden and Rosamond’s delight, the pitcher quickly and efficiently strikes out the star of the opposing team.

“I wonder what Joey said to the pitcher,” Hayden remarks to Rosamond. “Is there a scout in the stands? Though aren’t twelve- and thirteen-year-olds a bit young for recruiting?”

“We’ll probably never find out from Joey,” replies Rosamond. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s not talking to us.”

“It’ll blow over.”

“You
did
have a talk with him, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t have a talk wi’ him.” Hayden’s brogue noticeably thickens, the way it does when telemarketers call during dinner. “I’m no good at talkin’.”

“You must be joking! Why, you talk such a good game that if you ever take up the Lord’s work all the fallen Catholics will be back in their pews by next Sunday, even if it means buying tickets from scalpers.” The absurdity of Hayden’s statement makes Rosamond laugh so hard that she leans back on the narrow aluminum bench and almost slips through the bleachers.

However, Hayden catches her with an outstretched arm and doesn’t remove it even after she’s regained her balance. “Better be careful or you’re going to be a fallen Catholic.”

“That’s exactly what I mean!” says Rosamond. “Anyway, I wish you would talk to Joey, because I hate the feeling that he’s angry with us.”

“Rosie, that kind of talk is girl talk. Diana and her mother would sit around for hours yammering about their feelings.” Hayden places his light blue handkerchief over his hair like a scarf, bats his eyelashes, tilts his head to the side, and offers his imitation of women talking to each other. “How did you
feel
when he said that? Was he being honest about his
feelings
. . . .”

Rosamond attempts to stay serious, though it’s hard with Hayden continuing to flutter his heavy-lidded eyes under bushy brows, knowing full well that he’s getting her permanently off track with laughter. Because if there’s one thing Hayden definitely is not, it’s feminine. She turns away from him in order to stay focused on the issue at hand. “It’s not just about us taking the trip without him. You’re his best friend and he’s beside himself that you’re, you know, not well.”

“He’s makin’ more friends here at baseball. I caught him and the pitcher tryin’ to smoke behind our garage the other day.”

“Well, I’m warning you, Diana’s threatening to send him to a child psychiatrist.”

“A
psychiatrist
? My grandson will see a shrink over my dead body. Speaking of which, we
are
dyin’, Rosie. I’ve told Joey that. And I’ve shown him lots of dead people at funerals. What else do you want me to do? Tell him we’re going to paradise and that he’ll see us again in heaven? Come on, you know I can’t do that.”

Rosamond frowns at him, exhales loudly, and turns back to watch the game, even though she isn’t seeing anything. If only she’d had the opportunity to speak with her mother just once. What were
her
hopes and dreams? And were any of them fulfilled? What was it that had attracted her mother to her father, a kindly but solemn man who put food on the table but displayed little emotion, at least not after her mother was gone. Rosamond often wonders if she’ll meet her mother again in heaven. She likes to think so. There are so many things she’d like to ask her and tell her.

Hayden is also annoyed. Just when they’re about to take this vacation they have to start arguing. He decides that women do this on purpose. It was going to be his one big chance to romance her without a twelve-year-old around. What’s equally aggravating is the shrug and sigh business she just displayed. Hayden is convinced that Rosamond learned those moves from Diana. In fact, it occurs to him that his daughter is most likely the inspiration for the entire performance, right down to the furrowed brow, pursed lips, and sweet-smelling perfume she has on. If it were up to Hayden, women would be housed like murder suspects and never allowed in the same room together without an officer present. He’s convinced the distaff half spends the majority of their time strategizing against men and exchanging potentially damaging information that can later be used for the purposes of male entrapment.

A summer storm moves in quickly from the west and obliterates the orange sunset with dark purple clouds. Umbrellas come out and spectators start running for their cars. Soon thick walls of raindrops bounce three inches above the white bases, rivers of water begin connecting all the ruts on the playing field, and the coaches briefly study the sky before calling the game. Lightning zigzags across the heavens, causing everything to stand out for a moment. Hayden gallantly attempts to cover their heads with his windbreaker but they end up getting drenched.

Even though Joey’s team is behind when the game is called, they go out for ice cream to celebrate the fact that he finally got on base, even if his occupancy didn’t lead to scoring a run. Hayden drops off Rosamond and Joey so they can get a booth while he searches for a parking space.

Once they’re seated it’s obvious to Rosamond that Joey’s still sulking about not being invited on the trip, because instead of speaking to her, he buries his face behind the menu that he knows by heart.

Joey wonders if she understands that he’s upset by the significance of the trip as much as the trip itself. And that he is heartbroken now that Rosamond has finally chosen between the two of them. Furthermore, he’s angered and insulted at the way his mother refers to his feelings as a “schoolboy crush.”

By now Rosamond has determined that even if Hayden won’t have a talk with the boy, she sure as heck will. “You know, Joey, sometimes your grandpa doesn’t feel all that well and he makes a big effort to do things so that you and I can have a good time.”

Joey is accustomed to his mother barking orders at him, fretting aloud about safety, and listing all the accidents and illnesses that could befall him at any given moment. But he’s rarely been exposed to some well-placed guilt. Eventually from underneath a pulled-down baseball cap comes a remorseful, “I know.”

Rosamond gently removes the cap so that she can meet his gaze. “This trip we’re going on is supposed to be good for his health, so that he can rest a bit.”

“You mean without Mom nagging him all the time?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that, exactly. Diana loves your grandpa, the same way she loves you.”

Joey frowns. He is also discovering that guilt can be like cough medicine, the bad taste fading quickly after it’s been dispensed. Much to Joey’s surprise, Rosamond takes his smooth young hand in hers. “Being that your grandpa isn’t up to a more rigorous vacation, how about when I get back the two of us will finally go on that camping trip? Just you and me.”

“Really?” Joey’s face lights up.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Rosamond crosses herself. Meanwhile, a shadow crosses her face as she remembers that she really is dying. She reaches over and hugs him to assure him of how much she loves him, but the sight of Hayden waving as he makes his way through the crowded restaurant and over to their booth causes him to wriggle out of her embrace, retrieve his hand and hide it under the tabletop.

Hayden sits down next to Rosamond and faces Joey. “Hey Slugger, you’re not trying to take away my girl?” He laughs heartily, oblivious to Joey’s heartache and Rosamond’s efforts to keep the peace between the men in her life. “Now, I’m dyin’ to know what you told that pitcher to strike out their best batter!”

“I told him that if you can get Artie’s dad to start yelling then he goes to pieces,” Joey confesses with a grin.

“That’s my boy,” says Hayden and reaches across the table to rumple Joey’s hair. “You’ve got a good read on people. Maybe you should be a coach or else one of those Wall Street traders.”

chapter fifty-three

S
ometime after midnight Hayden is awakened by a commotion out in front of the house. There’s a plaintive cry followed by an angry shout and then the sound of gravel hitting the downstairs windows and ticking against the metal gutters. He assumes that Diana has forgotten her key and climbs out of bed to go and let her in. But Diana appears with Hank at the top of the stairs while Hayden is unlocking the front door. It’s clear that they’ve also been sleeping. Hank is wrapped in a bedsheet and Diana is wearing a filmy green nightgown. Thus Hayden deduces what’s awaiting him is a visit from Tony-the-Sofa-Tester, or some other disgruntled ex-boyfriend, and braces himself for a confrontation.

“Joey!” An agitated voice can be heard shouting from the front lawn. Next to appear on the landing is a sleepy Joey, with Rosamond trailing behind him in pale yellow pajamas.

“Jayzus, Mary, and Joseph!” bellows Hayden. “Did you throw a baseball through some guy’s window?” He looks up toward Joey.

“Joey!” the voice comes again, this time more plaintive than threatening.

“Evan!” concludes Diana.

“Evan?” echoes Hank.

“Dad!” Joey shouts excitedly, eyes now wide open with excitement. He dashes to the screen door and races outside. “Dad! Dad! I knew you’d come!”

Rosamond feels as if she’s in the eye of a hurricane. Diana and Hayden rush past her toward Joey while Hank runs by her in the opposite direction to go back upstairs, presumably to put on some pants. By the time they’re all assembled on the front lawn Joey is hugging his father, who is now down on bended knee.

Evan, a tall, lanky man with jutting cheekbones and a ponytail that only serves to accentuate his leanness, places his arm possessively around Joey’s shoulder.

“I want my son!” he announces to Diana and Hank, who are standing to the left of the front stoop, and Hayden, who is off to the right. Only it appears as if the energy expended in making this proclamation throws him off balance and he has to cling to Joey for support.

“He’s high,” Diana tells Hank, loud enough so that Hayden can hear her.

“I’ll take care of him,” Hank assures her. Having thrown on jeans and an unbuttoned blue dress shirt, he pushes up his sleeves as if preparing for a fight. The urge to protect and defend that has welled up inside him trumps any lingering notions he had of entering the priesthood. And having grown up with four brothers he’s accustomed to working things out with his fists if need be.

In the intervening moments Rosamond has pulled on her borrowed white silk bathrobe and now appears on the front stoop. Upon seeing her friend Diana yells, “Call the police!” Then Diana attempts to restrain Hank from tackling Evan and shouts at Hayden, “Dad,
help
me. I don’t want to lose custody.”

But Hayden enters into the fray with his own agenda. “You want your son, do you?” he threatens Evan in an icy tone that contains not a trace of his regular good humor. “Why haven’t you paid alimony or child support since nineteen canteen? And where’s the money from the cashed-in life insurance policy that was supposed to be for Diana and Joey in case anything happened to you? Did you think I wouldn’t find out about that?”

“I want my son!” Evan repeats in an unsteady voice that sounds increasingly desperate. He continues to use Joey as a leaning post.

“Then be a man,” Hayden shouts back. “It’s better to die on yer feet than live on yer knees!”