Why Can't I Be You (18 page)

“Works for me,” Myra said. She ran upstairs to change out of her hiking clothes. When she left the room, Fish reached over and kissed me.

“I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to the fact that I can do that,” he said, smoothing my hair behind my ear before he kissed me again.

W
e turned down
a gravel road, and then drove for several minutes under a dark canopy of trees. There were no signs of civilization. I began to think I’d misunderstood and we were going hiking again, but when we finally neared the end of the road, I saw a big log cabin. There was a second-floor balcony and a grand stone staircase leading up to the front door from the driveway. Behind the main house was another house, framed out and partially completed. It looked a lot like the chalets we’d seen on our hike. There was a huge pile of rocks next to the foundation.

“I’m building that one for me,” Fish said. “The fireplace is next.”

“You’re building it yourself?” That’s what he’d meant earlier when he talked about having time to build his house. I’d assumed he meant time to hire a builder, pick out fixtures, and decide if the kitchen should have an island or a breakfast bar.

“With my own two hands,” Fish said, taking his keys out of the ignition and tossing them from one hand to the other. “Robbie comes out and helps too. It’s good guy time. Although, actually, Heather puts us to shame.”

I loved the idea of all of them working together. Heather wielding a power drill and wearing a tool belt.

“Hey, Dad!” Fish called out, as he opened the front door.

An enormous German Shepherd came barreling down the stairs to the foyer in a black-and-tan blur. He jumped up, put his paws on my shoulders, and licked my face. He was almost as tall as me. It took all I had not to scream. I stumbled until my back hit the wall.

“Chip! Off!” Fish said firmly. “Sit!” Chip’s butt hit the ground instantly. He wagged his tail along the floor and looked up at Fish.

“Chip’s not a real guide dog,” Fish said, running his hand along his face. “I swear I do a much better job with my guide dogs. But he started out as a pet. My dad got him when I went to school, to keep him from feeling like an empty nester. He spoiled the heck out of him. I didn’t start training Chip until after the stroke.”

“He’s beautiful,” I said. Chip looked at me with his big brown eyes, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He almost looked like he was smiling.

“I can’t believe you didn’t freak out!” Fish said. “You always hated dogs.”

“I’m older and wiser,” I said, petting Chip. He leaned his head into my leg and looked up at me. I wanted to bury my face in his neck and tell him everything.

Before my parents got divorced, my dad brought home a Springer Spaniel. I woke up Christmas morning to a soft, sweet puppy wearing a big red bow around her neck, licking my face. It was like a dream come true. And then she peed on the carpet, and my mom started screaming and the puppy started shaking. But at least when I hid in my room, waiting for the shouting to stop, I had Brownie with me. I held her tight. We sat on the floor of my closet, and I let her chew on one of my socks.

We only had Brownie for about a week before my mom took her to the pound. And then there was more yelling when my dad came home from work and found out. I sat in my closet to wait it out alone, drawing pictures of Brownie by flashlight so I wouldn’t forget what she looked like.

“Gilbert! Is that you?” a wobbly, hoarse voice called from upstairs. There was a slight pause between each word, like it took him a moment to move on to the next one.

“Dad!” Fish shouted. “You’ll never guess who’s here!”

We walked up the stairs from the foyer to the living room, and as soon as our heads were at floor level, the voice said, “It’s no one I recognize, but she sure is pretty.”

My heart flip-flopped. I didn’t know much about strokes. Maybe he wouldn’t have recognized the real Jessie either.

He was a small man. He sat slightly crooked in a big chair made from branches. His feet rested on an ottoman, and his legs looked like bent twigs. He was holding a book in his lap with his forearm. His hand was contorted into a claw. He had thick gray hair combed neatly against his head and blue eyes like Fish’s.

“Dad,” Fish said, “it’s Jessie Morgan. You remember Jessie.”

He waved his hand at Fish. His fingers flapped against his palm. “Psh, there’s nothing wrong with my memory. I’m not senile, Gilbert,” he said. “Although I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I couldn’t nag you as much if I forgot to.” His smile was high on one side and limp on the other but still bright and warm.

“Dad, it’s Jessie,” Fish said.

“Well, then,” he said, “come over and say hello, Jessie.” He leaned forward and patted the ottoman for me to sit down. The book fell off his lap. Chip ran over and pawed at it until he could get a grip on it with his mouth. He picked it up and nudged it back onto the edge of the chair.

“Wow,” I said.

“I can’t take books out of the library. Teeth marks,” he said, laughing. “Here. Sit.”

I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or the dog. I sat on the edge of the ottoman. Chip sat next to the chair.

“Hi, Mr. Foster,” I said, thankful that I remembered Fish’s last name from the reunion poster. I was shaking and hoped it wasn’t visible. I kept my hands in the pockets of Fish’s jacket until Chip put his head in my lap and I couldn’t resist petting him.

“You’re an adult,” Mr. Foster said. “None of this ‘mister’ crap. You can call me Ernie.” He patted my arm. His hand was stiff and knotted. “Where are your manners?” he said to Fish. He had an impish look in his eyes. Despite the fact that I worried he was on to me, I really liked him. “Offer her some tea.”

“Jessie, would you like some tea?” Fish said, laughing.

“Sure,” I said.

When Fish went into the kitchen, Ernie leaned in and said, “Are you responsible for the spring in his step?”

I felt my face get hot.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Well, I hope so.” He studied my face carefully. I was pretty sure if he suspected that I might be an impostor, he would have come out with it already. He didn’t seem like someone who held much back.

He pointed behind me, and I turned around. We both watched Fish in the kitchen, filling the kettle, getting out mugs and tea bags. “He’s a good man,” Ernie said. “He’s a good son.” He cleared his throat. “He deserves to have a spring in his step.” He shook his head. It was more like a wobble. “I’m not a fan of that Karen girl.”

“Oh,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Karen who was still in Florida. I knew the kids weren’t Fish’s. I knew she’d been friends with Jessie, but I didn’t know much more about her.

“Don’t look sad,” Ernie said. “She’s not competition. I think she just wishes she were.”

I scratched Chip behind the ears. He made me feel calm.

“So where do you live?” Ernie asked me.

“Rochester,” I said. “New York.”

“Oh, you don’t want to live there. Cold and snowy and far away from Gilbert.”

“Dad,” Fish called from the kitchen. “Are you forcing me on Jessie?”

“I like this one,” Ernie said. “There’s something about her.”

“I like her too,” Fish said, bringing a tray with tea, milk, and sugar into the living room. He set it down on the coffee table and set up a tray table next to Ernie.

“I think Chip’s in love,” Ernie said, gesturing to me.

Fish laughed. “It’s just so funny to see you cuddling up to a dog like that, Jess.”

Ernie winked at me. It made my pulse spike. Why would he be nice to me if he did know? Why would he be nice to me if he didn’t? Jessie led Fish on for years. What kind of good parent would encourage their kid to go back for more? Fish deserved better than Jessie. Fish deserved better than me too.

“Damn,” Fish said, looking out the window before he sat down with his tea. “It looks like it’s going to rain. I want to put a tarp over the fireplace rocks so I don’t have to wait for a sunny day to get them to dry out again.”

“Do you want me to help you?” I asked.

“I can do it,” Fish said. “But I bet my dad would love the company.”

“Do you Scrabble?” Ernie asked.

“Do I play Scrabble?” I asked. “Like the board game?”

“It makes you sound more serious if you say it like it’s a verb.”

“Well, then, yes,” I said. “I do Scrabble.”

“Uh-oh,” Fish said, grabbing his coat. “You don’t know what you’re in for. He’s become a Scrabble pro in the last few years.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m no slouch.” As an only child, there weren’t many games I could play by myself, but Scrabble was one of them. I would switch from one set of tiles to the other on each turn. It wasn’t the same challenge as playing with another person, but it was still a word game. It was less pathetic than when I tried to play Battleship alone.

Fish got the board and another tray table for us to play on before he left.

“You’ll have to do the letters for me,” Ernie said. “I’ll give them to you and tell you where they go.”

“I’m happy to,” I said.

“I make a mess when I do it myself.”

Ernie kept his tiles in the box top in his lap instead of on the small wooden stand. They were shielded by the table, so I couldn’t see them.

I got to go first. I spelled out “honed.”

“So what are you doing with yourself these days,” Ernie asked, handing me a
J
. He pointed to the spot on the board where he wanted me to start and gave me the letters one by one.

“I’m an account executive at a PR firm,” I said, laying his letters on the board carefully until I’d spelled out “jivey.”

“I used to be in ad sales for the newspaper.” He wobbled his head. “And I hated every minute of it.”

It surprised me to think of Ernie in sales. He was wearing a thick wool sweater, sweatpants, and shearling slippers. He was short, like Fish, only a couple of inches taller than me if he were standing, I guessed. But he had broad shoulders and a square jaw, and I could picture him more easily as a carpenter or a fisherman than a salesman in a suit.

“It’s so fake,” he said. “You’re always pretending to be excited about something you couldn’t give a damn about. Exhausting! And at the end of the day, you haven’t really done anything. All you have to show for yourself is a couple of squares in a newspaper, filled with ads for car insurance or business college.”

“That’s how I feel about my job,” I said. “Most of the time. There are good days.”

“I watch Gil,” Ernie said, “and I wish I’d had the smarts to be like him. Even on a bad day at work, he’s still changing someone’s life.”

We played and chatted. I boiled more water and filled our mugs again.

Fish came in wet and dirty and said he was going to take a quick shower.

“We’re fine,” Ernie said. Then he smiled at me. “I shouldn’t answer for you. Are you fine?”

“I’m fine,” I called out.

We were neck and neck in our game. I was just three points behind Ernie when he handed me his remaining letters, one by one, to spell out
“quixotry.” I wasn’t entirely sure it was a word, but I was too polite to say so.

“Challenge me,” he said, giving me his half smile. “I can tell you want to.”

“I’m sure if you say it’s a word . . .”

“Challenge me,” he said. “It’s more fun that way. The stakes are high! For the win!”

“Okay,” I said. “I challenge you.”

“Mean it!” he said, waving his fist at me.

“I CHALLENGE YOU!” I cried, waving my fist back at him. I was embarrassed as soon as I did it, but Ernie was thrilled.

“Wonderful!” he said, clapping the heels of his hands together.

Ernie pointed to the bookshelf. “Dictionary!”

I went over to look for the dictionary. Chip followed me, looking up at the shelf too, like he wanted me to know that he could step in and help if I needed it. In front of the dictionary was a picture of Fish in his graduation gown. He had one arm around Ernie, who was handsome and healthy, his smile straight, and his hand making rabbit ears behind Fish’s head. Fish’s other arm was around a woman with curly brown hair, big brown eyes, and a nervous smile. She wasn’t looking at the camera. She was looking past it. She and Fish had the same nose, straight and narrow through the bridge. It was the day Fish worked up the nerve to tell Jessie he loved her. He must not have done it yet. The smile on his face was real. I wondered where his mother was. I hadn’t heard him talk about her at all.

I grabbed the dictionary and brought it back to Ernie. Chip followed me and sat down at the side of Ernie’s chair.