When You Go Away (29 page)

     "You were strong out there," a voice said, and Peri nearly jumped, feeling the sharp edges of stucco scratch her neck and arms.  She looked up, and her father's neighbor was peering at her over the fence, her straw hat hiding her eyes.  "I shouldn't have listened, but I did."

     "Oh."

     "I bet you wanted him to take care of you again.  To make it all right."  Mrs. Trimble nodded as she spoke.

     "Maybe some.  But he left."

     "That's right.  But you let him go this time."

     She nodded, and Mrs. Trimble handed her a rhododendron bloom, a deep purple flower, the petals floating even as Peri held it in her hand.  "You get better and then take care of those children.  Like he couldn't.”

     Mrs. Trimble moved back, swallowed into the bushes.  Peri rubbed the flower on her cheek and lips, closing her eyes to its softness, wishing the next weeks and months could be as easy and painless as Mrs. Trimble made them sound, everything as smooth as the flower against her face.

They'd started in Ryan's room, cigarette butts, roaches, and girly magazines easier than Brooke's sad bed, the evidence of the final night of their hard year scattered about the room.  Carl had already come once to get all their clothes and bathroom articles, staring for a few seconds at a pink razor, knowing it was Carly's, amazed she was already old enough to shave.  Shave what?  Thin blonde hair like the kind that sparkled on top of her arms? 

     He'd loaded all their personal effects into his car, and now he and Rosie were working mostly with bedding and furniture and kitchen items, much of which hadn't even been unpacked.  As he worked, he tried to forget that Noel and Peri were at
Preston
's
Walnut Creek
office, focusing instead on each item, a blanket, folded, a sheet that needed washing, a pan crusted with something cooked weeks ago and pushed into a kitchen corner.  He also expected to any moment come across checks from Graham, uncashed, hidden in a jar or a glass, but he’d found nothing, not even a dime in the carpet.

     "It's amazing they lasted here as long as they did," he said into the living room, where Rosie was bagging magazines to put downstairs in the recycling bin.

     "It was sad, Carl.  Honestly, I would watch Carly and Ryan in the mornings going to school, and I could tell something was happening.  Peri barely came out, and I saw Brooke maybe twice.  It's really a damn good thing it all unfolded this way."

     Carl looked up, shaking his head.  "A good thing?"

     "Well, yeah.  Think about it.  If Peri hadn't taken off, this life for them could have gone on for weeks, maybe months.  Who knows what condition Brooke would have been in by then?  In a way, Peri saved her by leaving."  

     Rosie stood up and carried the full bag to the door, and then sat on the couch to pack up books she'd piled there earlier.  Carl stood still over the sink.  Was she right?  Ramon often talked about things that were "meant to be," and even though he was usually referring to lost or won tennis matches, maybe this was something that was meant to be, Peri back with him, he with a chance to make things right with her, Brooke with all the care she needed, Graham forced to make the payments he should have been making all along. 
But why this way
?  he wondered, stuffing sponges, Comet, and 409 spray in a grocery bag. 
Why so dramatically?

     By one in the afternoon, they'd packed up everything they could and arranged the furniture so that the movers who were coming the next day could get in and out, mattresses and box springs leaning against walls, the bed frames folded on the floor, the hospital bed ready for the company it belonged to carry it away.  Carl had half a thought to tell them to take it to his house, but that would jinx the whole thing.  If Brooke were ever able to stay with him, he'd just order up a new one.  A better one, dammit, with all the bells and whistles.

     The backseat and trunk of his Corvair were piled to bursting, and he had at least another hour of work once he got home, arranging everything in his garage.  Someday soon, Peri would want her photo albums and scrapbooks, every family year except the last photographed down to the dog's birthday party.  She'd want her books and the china
pigs Janice had given her, one on each birthday and one every Christmas.  She wouldn't want them with her furniture at the storage place with the bigger things from the apartment and the Monte Veda house.

     "You've done good for them," Rosie said, leaning against the car, wiping her hands on her jeans.  "It's all going to work out."

     Carl shrugged, leaning a hip against the car and crossing his arms.  "Who knows?  But it feels good to clean up the mess.  At least something's getting done."

     "It's been a real experience for me, I'll tell you.  I'll sure know what to do the next time a thirteen-year-old girl comes knocking on my door."

      "I'm just glad it was your door.  Thanks.  Thanks so much."

     Rosie smiled, and then bit her lip, her teeth white and perfect against her dusky lips.  Rose colored lips.  She'd been named perfectly.  "Well, I'm going to say it.  I was hoping that maybe it wouldn't have to end here."

     The part of him that had been asleep for too long flushed awake, his whole body alive with nerves.  Weeks ago, he'd been looking pretty intently at the woman at the bridge club, wondering when he would ask her out and how long it would take before she said yes.  And Rosie--well, she was warm, the scent of her even from here something he wanted to dip his head into and find himself stuck in for a good long time.  Lately, while driving Peri to Dr. Kolakowski's office and to Fran's, he'd filled the rides with fantasy, wondering if the rest of Rosie was a smooth as her arms.  As he looked at her now, he couldn't put a cap on his smile.  In less than ten minutes, they could be in her bedroom,
skin against skin, all the courtship carried on these past weeks, Rosie knowing everything about him and his family and his past, nothing for him to hide.  And he'd gotten to know more about her and her son, her job, her ex-husband José, the jerk from
San Diego
.

     He was seconds from moving closer, taking her hand, saying, "I was hoping the exact same thing," when he remembered Peri sitting behind the table at the jail, her face so thin that he thought he would hurt her by kissing her cheek.  He saw Carly, felt her arms tight around his neck; he heard Ryan's cries against his shoulder, tears hard for a teenaged boy to part with.  And then, as Rosie's fingers touched him, warm and smooth from constant nurse washings, he saw Janice, the way she'd looked over thirty years ago when he said, "I don't love you."  She had looked so surprised, and no wonder.  He'd never lost the flare of blood and skin when he looked at Janice, the same pulse that he now felt radiating up his body from Rosie's touch.  Even as he had left, he wanted Janice, loved her fine, lovely hair, her smile, the way she could hold both children on her lap and read them a bedtime story.  But he wanted everything, more, all, and so he walked away to a long life of nothing.

     "I would like that, too," he began.

     "But."

     "But. . .  But I have Peri.  I finally have her back, and I've got to take care of her."

     Rosie nodded, smiling.  "Good."

     "It's not that I don't want to."

     "Okay.  Maybe later."  Rosie held out her hand, and he took it, closing his eyes briefly to the warm feel of her, the exact way he thought she'd be.

     "Yeah.  Later.  When this is over."

     "It won't be over."

     Carl opened the car door.  "No.  It won't be over.  But it will be better."

     She took a few steps away from the car, and he sat down and started the engine.  "Thanks for--for being there, for all of us."

     "You have my number," she said, lifting a hand, and he put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking place, looking at her in his rearview mirror.  For maybe the first time in his life, he was leaving something he could actually come back to.



     "My God!  Preston wants her to do what?"  Carl asked, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees.  Noel sat across from him drinking a St. Pauli Girl pale ale.

     "Plead guilty.  I felt the same way, too, Dad.  When he first brought it up, I was ready to walk right out of the office.  But--I've been thinking.  It might be the best thing.  Probably no jail time.  Probably, and I mean probably, she'll be able to stay here with you.  And
Preston
really wants the best for Peri."  Noel took a sip.

     Pushing himself back in his chair, Carl grabbed his beer, staring at the girl on the label, peeling the edge with a fingernail. 
Guilty
.  It would exist forever, and not just in her mind.  She'd know that somewhere, someone had typed it on a record, that infamous permanent one, and there it would be, tailing her like a shadow.  But in a way, then this part would be over, and she could focus on her kids.  "What does Peri think?" Carl asked.

     "I don't know really.  We didn't talk much on the way home."

     "What about the kids?  What does this mean for her getting custody?"

     His son shrugged.  "That's the custody battle.  That's for the court to decide.  But if she's found guilty and made to do what--more therapy?  A parenting class?  Probation?  She won't get custody.  Not now.  Not right away.  Graham at least doesn't have a criminal record.  He might be a complete asshole, but he hasn't been convicted of anything."

     "He should have been.  Thrown in for being a shitty father."  Carl paused, taking a swig, hearing Noel’s pause echo in the room.  He flushed, realizing he deserved to be in the same jail with Graham, hobbled and linked by chains, like father-in-law, like son-in-law.

     "Yeah."  Noel looked over his shoulder.  "What's Peri doing?"

     "Her therapist wants her to get outside more, so I bought some plants.  It's good exercise."  He almost laughed.  Now the father he should have been, making sure Peri was fed and healthy and on time for appointments.  While he was keeping her active, he hadn't a clue about what she was feeling inside, each day about making a pattern she
could live by, a focused, thoughtful pattern a jury would see as healthy and improved and sane.  But inside her?  Carl might never be granted a permit.  The same was true with Noel.  Oh, he knew about Noel's job and his apartment and his new mountain bike, but had he heard much about these girlfriends who were a part of his life and then not?  Did Carl know anything about what Noel wanted?  

     "So," Carl began slowly.  "What’s next?"

     "We make a decision.  Or Peri does.  I've got to call
Preston
by six.  If she says okay, we get ready for the sentencing.  If not, we get ready for the hearing."

     "No.  I mean, yes.  But I really meant about you."

     Noel almost missed the coffee table as he put his beer down.  "What
do
you mean?"

     "Well, now that Peri is here, and some plan or another will be put in motion, you don't have to be so focused on her.  For a long time, it seems to me, you've been maybe too involved."

     "Someone had to be.  Mom died.  Someone had to care."

     Carl nodded.  "Yeah.  That's true.  And I care now.  I know it’s little too late.  But I'm in for the long haul.  The kids--they can stay here too if the court allows."

     "Even Brooke?"

     "Even Brooke.  I've got designs on that hospital bed back at the apartment.  But like you said, it's kind of a wait-and-see thing.  I'll take care of it though, so what about you?"

     Noel looked around the room, putting an arm on the top of the couch.  "Work.  More work.  The usual.  I want to be around for her though."

     "Of course.  Do you have a lady-friend or somebody?"

     "Not now."

     "Who was your last one?  You never mentioned anyone special."

     "Listen, Dad, I don't know what you're doing."  Noel stood up, putting his hands in his pockets and facing the large picture window.  Outside, house finches chattered and fought in the sycamores, flying away in a flash of brown and orangey-red as a girl with a yip-yapping dog walked down the sidewalk.  "We've never talked much about this stuff."

     "I'm just curious, that's all.  I'd like to see you--see you happy.  I never said anything before.  I know that.  I never asked.  You're so good with Peri's kids.  I wondered if you wanted a family of your own some day."

     "You're going to extol the virtues of family?  You?"

     "Stupid, huh.  But right now, even with all this, I’m glad I have you both."

     Noel turned to look at him, and in a space of seconds, Carl could see him as a boy, reading on his stomach in the living room, his legs crossed and rocking, his chin in his palm.  So serious, always so serious.  His boy.  His only boy.

     "Dad."

     "What, son?"

     "I think . . . I don’t know how to be with a woman for more than six months.  I always think I’ll end up being . . . ."