The Newman Resident (16 page)

Grandma pulled out two gifts. They were both meticulously wrapped in the same red paper, with gold bows and ribbon.

“Honey,” she said as she handed both gifts to Christopher, “here are a couple of little things we wanted you two to have. This heavy one is for your Daddy, and this big one is for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Richard said.

“If we’d had to,” Grandpa said, “it would’ve taken all the fun out of it.”

“Don’t open them until you get on the train and want something to do, okay?” Grandma said.

Christopher nodded. Grandpa coughed two or three times, a sure sign he was trying not to get emotional. Richard looked at his watch and then glanced around the platform, hoping the train would be late.

“I hate good-byes,” Grandma finally spoke up, “but I hate worse having to rush them just because some dumb train pulls up.”

They all hugged each other and said their goodbyes. Christopher was trying to be a big boy about it all; he even coughed a couple of times like his grandpa.

“You take good care of your daddy, okay?” Grandma said.

The train pulled up, and a few people started getting off. An older couple a few feet away waved as two children and their parents—both the mother and father—got off the train. They all ran toward each other and hugged and kissed. Richard wished he was saying hello. Just looking forward to such a greeting at the other end of the tracks would make this good-bye tolerable.

“Come on, Christopher,” Richard said. “We’d better get on the train.”

Richard and Christopher were heading for the train when someone shouted, “Hey, it’s not going to leave without you! Hold up!”

All four turned to see David running along the platform toward them. Christopher, Grandma, and Grandpa turned to Richard to see his expression. He was smiling. “I called him last night,” Richard said.

“I’ve got to start getting up earlier,” David said as he got to the family.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” Richard said.

“I always make it, I’m just never on time.”

The conductor announced it was time to board. David held out his hand to his brother, but Richard pushed it away and hugged him. Christopher smiled as he jumped up and down. Grandpa had his arm around Grandma and they both smiled like they’d just woken up and found out it was Christmas morning and they were six again.

“What you told me on the mountain made me do a lot of thinking,” Richard said. “You were right and I was wrong.”

“Not the first time, big brother,” David said, then smiled. “Do you know who I am, Christopher?”

“Of course, you’re David!”

“Nope, I’m Uncle David to you. And you’re the only person in the world who can call me that!” David knelt down and hugged his nephew. “I tell you what, I’m going to make it to Manhattan sometime this summer, and I’ll bring my guitar. Maybe I can teach you a few licks.”

Christopher looked like he wasn’t sure what he was going to be taught, but he smiled anyway. He and Richard quickly said good-bye to everyone again and climbed aboard the train just as the conductor made the last call to board.

They found a seat and both crowded the window, watching Grandpa, Grandma, and David waving as the train made its way down the tracks, back to Penn Station.

“It’s almost like we’re standing still and they’re moving away,” Christopher said.

“It looks that way,” Richard said, “but we’re definitely the ones leaving.”

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX

“W
hat should we do now?” Christopher asked, yawning and stretching from his nap.

“I don’t know. We could take another nap, or read a magazine, or look out the window. Or, if you really wanted to...we could open our presents!”

“Now?”

“Right now!”

Christopher didn’t wait a second before he started tearing the paper. When he got to the plain brown box, he ripped open the top and looked in.

“Oh no!” Christopher said.

“What? What is it?”

“I can’t believe it!”

“What is it?”

Christopher pulled out a Winnie the Pooh bear and hugged it. “They found it!”

“I think I used to have a bear like that.”

“This is it! This used to be yours. See how old it is?”

“It’s not that old.”

Christopher hugged Pooh again.

“I never knew you wanted a bear that bad.”

“I didn’t—not until I found out about this bear.”

“Winnie the Pooh?”

“
Your
Winnie the Pooh.” Christopher stood up in his seat and hugged his dad, then kissed him on the cheek. “This is so great, Daddy! Thank you!”

“Wow,” Richard said. “Thank
you
, son.”

“Grandpa read me the stories when he tucked me in. He told me you named me after his friend, Christopher Robin.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I used to tell you. When I’d rock you, I’d tell you all the Pooh Bear stories. But you were too young to know what I was talking about.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

“You know, I bought you a Winnie the Pooh bear when you were a baby. I even insisted they let you take it to the school with you.”

“What happened to it?”

“I don’t know,” Richard said. “I kept asking about it, but everyone said you never had one.”

Christopher picked up the other present and handed it to his father. “Here, open yours.”

“I wonder what it could be.”

“I think I know.”

“Did they tell you?”

“No, but I can figure it out. Go ahead, open it.”

Richard tore the paper off the box and opened it. He pulled out a photo album. “This is one you and Grandma kept looking at. I wonder what I’m supposed to do with this.”

“Look at it, silly.”

Richard chuckled. “Why didn’t I think of that? Let’s take a look.” As Richard opened the book, Christopher scooted closer to him, still holding the bear. “I don’t have the slightest idea who this is,” Richard said, pointing to one of the photos.

“That’s Bobby. You two were best friends until he moved away in third grade.”

“Yeah, I remember Bobby.”

Christopher turned a couple of pages and pointed to another picture. “Then, in fourth grade, Andy moved from New Hampshire and you two became best friends.” The photo showed Richard and Andy standing in front of some of the trees behind the Carson home. “And that place behind you, that’s where you used to go underneath all the branches and pretend it was your clubhouse.”

“Oh, I have great memories of that clubhouse. That’s where I used to always take Pooh Bear when I was about your age.”

“Yep.” His smile returned as he turned another page or two. “This is Denise, your first real girlfriend. You took her to your clubhouse and kissed her there for the first time.” Christopher laughed.

“How did you know that?”

“Grandma told me.”

“Well, how did she know that?”

“I don’t know. Parents are supposed to know things like that.”

For the next two hours, Richard sat next to his son and listened to him talk. He remembered a lot of the pictures Christopher explained, and his memory seemed to be improving with each photo. Still, he wanted to hear everything and anything Christopher had to say.

When they grew tired, Christopher put the album away and, holding Pooh Bear close, laid his head in his father’s lap and fell asleep.

Only a few minutes had passed when the conductor came by and checked their tickets. Richard knew it was a waste of time for him to try to sleep. He wasn’t sure if it was a matter of transitioning from the country to the city, or worry about having to confront Carol and her feelings about the sabbatical, but he felt a lost, trapped sense inside him—almost a panic—that increased each mile closer to Manhattan.

Each mile closer to Newman.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN

R
ichard turned over, looked at the alarm clock, then sat up. “What’s wrong?” Christopher stood next to his parents’ bed, dressed for the day.

“Christopher! How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to wonder if you were ever going to wake up,” Christopher said.

“It’s past eight. I’ve got to get going!”

“Where?” Christopher grabbed his father’s hand. “I know you usually write in the morning before I get up, but it looks like I’m already up. And Carol’s already gone to work. Let’s do something together.”

Richard rubbed his eyes and thought for a moment. “You know, you’re right. What should we do?”

“Remember, we just need to ask ourselves what Grandma and Grandpa would do.” Christopher didn’t say anything for a moment, then smiled. “Let’s chop some wood.”

They smiled, then raced to the kitchen. As they ate a couple of bowls of cereal and some toast, they kept comparing their cereal to the waffles and pancakes and eggs they’d grown accustomed to during their short visit to Grandma and Grandpa’s. Grandpa’s
pancakes were the most fun to eat, they agreed, since the middles were never quite done. “Cream-filled,” they told each other.

“Now we have to go see the world,” Christopher said.

Their first stop for the day of chopping wood was the American Museum of Natural History, across from Central Park. They’d been by there two or three times, and each time Christopher would ask about that mysterious building and Richard would promise they’d go there someday. His favorite area was the dinosaur bones, and he kept complaining about how badly his legs wanted to climb over all the dinosaurs.

“I think their bones are talking to mine, telling mine to climb, climb, climb,” he said.

After spending the morning in the museum, the two walked outside and decided they were hungry. “Where would you like to eat?” Richard asked.

“I don’t know. Where do you want to eat?”

“Anywhere you want to.”

“Okay...how about if we buy some hot dogs and eat in the grass?”

Richard stopped for a second. “Sounds good to me. We’ll eat the longest dogs in the tallest grass in the world!”

They took a cab to the former IBM building on the corner of 57th and Madison. Richard spotted a street vendor and bought two large hot dogs, some potato chips, and a couple of Sprites.

“Where’s the grass?” asked Christopher.

“Follow me.”

Richard headed for the atrium at the side of the building with Christopher close behind. As the two walked in, the little boy was astonished to see the giant shoots of bamboo reaching up to a ceiling that seemed miles away.

Between bites, they talked about anything that came to Christopher’s mind. Will they someday build skyscrapers in Central Park? Did people used to ride their horses down all these streets? Why doesn’t this little island sink from all the tall buildings? Did people used to ride their horses down the subways?

Richard told Christopher he had a special surprise for him and led him out the door, west on 57th, then north on Fifth Avenue. Christopher was so busy asking where they were going he didn’t notice when they’d arrived, standing next to a man dressed up like a toy soldier. Richard pointed to the store: FAO Schwartz.

“What is this place?” Christopher almost shouted.

“A toy store. They sell nothing but toys here, the finest around. Do you want to go inside?”

“Are you kidding?”

The toy soldier opened the door and Christopher ran in, his father not far behind. He turned in circles several times, probably getting dizzy trying to see everything at once. Light, playful music—like the music from a child’s music box—filled the air with “Welcome to Our World” and a happy excitement.

Christopher stared at the giant clock that reached up to the second-floor ceiling. He studied each of the different toys along the side of the clock tower as it slowly turned. Then he noticed what appeared to be a life-sized castle tower. He watched as a part of it moved up on a giant pole.

“An elevator! There’s another floor?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“And that’s just toys, too?”

“Nothing but toys. Do you want to go up?”

“No. Let’s see everything down here first.”

Christopher touched every soft, stuffed animal he saw: lions, bears, dogs, cats, tigers. He ran over to what seemed like life-sized stuffed animals and stroked the giraffe a number of times, looking along its long neck and up to its jaw. Every minute or two Christopher would point to something else—“Daddy, look at this!”—and Richard would follow him to the next toy. They spent an hour on the first floor alone, making certain there wasn’t a single toy left untouched.

“This is unbelievable!” Christopher said. “I think I need to rest.”

“Well, okay. Or, we could go upstairs now.”

Christopher smiled and ran toward the elevator. When he saw the escalator off to the side, he made a detour and headed for a stuffed animal named “Spanky,” a brown bear sitting in a bright red miniature BMW at the foot of the escalator. Richard waved his hand over a word on the information board and Spanky announced where the sports equipment was located. Another wave of the hand, and the bear talked about the trains.

“Let’s go!” Christopher shouted.

He jumped on the escalator, his excitement building each foot closer to the second floor. He headed first for the sleek, red miniature Ferrari. His father told him to climb in it, but he couldn’t believe that it was a real car for children. There was also a miniature Jeep, a Batmobile, and a Barbie convertible. Christopher went to great lengths to make sure his father understood he had no interest in the convertible.

“Christopher, you’ve got to check these out. They were my favorite.”

Richard led his son over to the large Legos area full of displays. Christopher looked enthralled with the pirate ships, the space stations, the castles. Tub after tub of Legos lined the top
of the shelves next to the ceiling, and beneath them were rows of building kits.

“Let’s build something,” Richard said.

“Is it all right?”

“Sure. That’s what these tables are for.”

They sat at a red and white table covered with Legos and started building everything that came to mind. A tower. Cars to crash into the tower. A rough replica of the large pirate ship they’d seen on display, though their crow’s nest looked more like a miniature telephone pole. They’d been building with the Legos for a half-hour when two identical twin boys, about Christopher’s age, sat next to them. Christopher glanced at his father and started to get up, and Richard was going to get up as well, but then he pretended not to notice his son’s movement and remained seated, still building the small house he’d started. Christopher sat back down and concentrated on his staircase. Christopher and his father had been talking and laughing with each other, but now everyone at the table was quiet, working on his own project. The twins didn’t even talk to each other, but were busy constructing what appeared to be two robots. Their nanny stood several feet away, talking on her cell phone.