Fix You (11 page)

I wander around for a minute, picking up a little, trying to regain my composure. I’ve never been much for cleaning up, and I do it now only to keep from completely overanalyzing what’s going on.

I finally stop puttering around and decide to go to bed. I brush my teeth and get ready to sleep.

I can’t find Ditto. I realize this as I am at my door. He’s not in my bedroom. He’s not on the couch in the living room. I go upstairs. He’s not in the boys’ room. I slip out to the catwalk, tiptoe to the door of the room above the garage. The light’s still on, so I peek in the window. Ditto is in the guest room, all right. He’s asleep on the bed, at the feet of my guest. Andrew is also asleep, still halfway propped up on the pillows. The Hemingway book is splayed out at whatever page he’s left off, turned over on his chest.

I look up at the moon. The night is quiet and beautiful. I go to bed knowing sometimes it shouldn’t be as hard as I make it. Right now might be one of those times.

12: Rolling on the River

T
HE
N
EXT
D
AY
, I decide we’re driving to Swan Falls. The boys groan.

“Mom, Robert was supposed to come over and play Mario Kart with me.” Beau is put out.

“We have a guest. We’re going to do something fun.”

“You mean something tourists think is fun but turns into a big headache?”

“What? Tourists don’t even know about Swan Falls.”

Andrew walks into the kitchen. “Are we plotting our day?”

Hunter snorts. “Mom’s trying to bore us to death. Or freeze us to death.”

I get a little defensive. “It was sixty-five degrees yesterday. We’re not going to freeze to death. Now, everybody go get your shoes on. And bring a coat. And Beau, find Ditto’s leash.”

Hunter takes this as the last straw. “Aw, Mom, he stinks! Do we have to bring him?”

Andrew jumps in. “I did shower.”

“I was talking about the dog.” Hunter looks at Andrew. “Are you saying you actually want to go do this?”

Again, I think this is probably an activity that goes counter to the image Hunter and Beau have of a Hummer-driving, bling-wearing, rap-playing Andy Pettigrew.

“Well, what’s it like?” Andrew winks at me. He knows he’s got some pull here.

“It’s actually not that bad,” Beau chimes in. “It’s not a big waterfall, but it’s the Snake River, and there’s a cool old-fashioned dam. Sometimes you can find arrowheads on the other side of the river.”

Andrew looks thoughtful. “Sounds decent. Why don’t we go and humor your mother?”

I appreciate his ability to get the boys to comply. “Let’s go, shall we?” I get the keys.

Everyone piles in the car, dog included—who is, incidentally, pretty smelly. I have a moment where I wonder if this whole thing
is
going to turn out to have been a terrible idea.

But the boys are in command of the iPod, and they’re playing all the songs they like for Andrew. Of course he knows most of them and has something to say in response. The boys especially like when he mentions the artist and what he or she was like when he met them. Movie star cheater. A normal mom can’t compete with street cred like that.

Finally we drop down off the rocky plain into the Snake River Canyon. Hawks twirl above us in the sky. The river is low, and though it’s warm, there’s a cold autumn wind coming up.

We have the place to ourselves, except for one pack of mountain bikers.

The boys let Ditto loose. He runs for the green lawn around the old white farmhouses. They stand tall with sharply arched Victorian roofs.

“What are all these houses?” Andrew asks.

“The caretaker’s house, offices, a house for the workers. This wasn’t an easy spot to get to at the turn of the last century.”

Hunter rolls his eyes. “Watch out, Andrew. Mom’s preparing to go all tour guide on you.”

I roll my eyes back. “I already did the tour guide thing with him yesterday. Why don’t you tell him something about it, then?”

This seems to surprise Hunter, but in true tween fashion, he never misses an opportunity to be the one who knows it all. In his humble opinion, he does know more than anyone. This is one of the side effects of approaching adolescence.

“This was one of the early dams in the West. Silver City had electricity because of it. It was a mining town.” He pauses and looks down at his feet. “That’s what I know.”

That’ll probably be the most we hear from Hunter all day. He slips in his ear buds and begins to walk big circles around us, like a moon in orbit.

Beau chases Ditto down and puts him on the leash. Together they bound around from one object to the next, whipped into a frenzy by the new location. Beau yells at us from the edge of the road. “Are we taking the dam road or what?”

Andrew looks at me. “What did he say?”

I roll my eyes. “Expect several ‘dam’ jokes out of Beau. It’s one of his favorite parts of a trip out here.”

Andrew walks alongside me. We make our way slowly to the dam itself, which stands atop the old stone of a real waterfall in the riverbed. The powerhouse is actually perched on the metal walkways of the dam. It’s another Victorian structure, this one hewed out of sandstone. The old paned windows are whitewashed, as is all the equipment and the small outbuildings that squeeze onto the wide metal walkways.

“You guys want to walk across the dam?” I hope there isn’t a mutiny brewing.

“We’re running! Ditto hates the way this dam grating feels on his paws!” Beau yells, mostly at Andrew, as he flies past in a full sprint. Even though he’s being silly, he’s right. The dog hates the metal grating. He’ll be glad to get across quickly.

“Hunter?” I look around for the oldest. He’s right behind me.

“Geez, Mom, I’m right here.” He passes us in exasperation, still listening to his music, but I can tell he’s formulated some game about where he’s stepping on the grates. Looks like it has something to do with avoiding the welded spots.

Andrew watches them get farther ahead. “They’re good kids.”

“I think so.” It’s reassuring to hear it from someone else.

“They have a good mom.” Andrew smiles.

“Oh, stop.” I elbow him.

“Okay.”

I smile. “Keep it up. I was just pretending to protest. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I knew it. I like the humble act, though.”

As we come around the corner of the powerhouse, the breeze picks up. Both boys have made it across and now scour the riverbanks for special rocks and arrowheads.

“Now it’s a little chilly.” I can feel the wind cut through the arms of my jacket.

“This is a great place.” Andrew puts his arm around my shoulders.

“Keep your eyes peeled. This is a good time of year to see bald eagles.” I look to the bare cottonwood trees that line the river for signs of nests.

“When I go back tomorrow, what do you think’s going to happen?” Andrew asks me. He hasn’t stopped walking with me; we’re still in a rhythm. His voice has changed, though. It sounds tentative.

“I thought I was supposed to ask that.”

He stops. He scans the cliffs above us, as if looking for an answer there. His lips form a tight line. Then he’s shaking his head a little.

“See, that’s where I just don’t know. Your life has a rhythm to it, a purpose. I like how grounded you are. You’ve got the boys. You’ve got a home here. With me, I just don’t know. Sometimes I don’t know how to slow it all down. I used to do some stupid stuff instead of putting the brakes on…Now I think I’m better at it, but when I go back to LA, things get…” His voice trails off, and the wind whistles in the emptiness that’s left.

“My life feels crazy from the inside a lot of the time,” I offer. “Yes, I have the boys. But look at Hunter—soon they’ll both grow and be gone. They’re already starting to distance themselves, which they should be. I don’t want them to live with their mom forever. But then what? Then what’s my purpose? Then what’s my routine? I feel like I’ll go from mother to nothing.”

I take a deep breath of the clean river air. “But anyway. Here’s what I hope happens. You go back to LA, back to work, I presume. We do this crazy thing where we call each other on the phone. As often as we want. Just like the people in the phone commercials. And then…”

I can see some sort of idea spring to life in his eyes. When he speaks, he sounds a lot more certain: “And then, when I’m filming my next job, you’ll come see me.”

“I don’t know…The boys can’t be—”

“No, here’s where it’s perfect. My next job is in Ventura County. It’s doubling for Colorado. That’s the magic of movies. You and the boys fly down to see your parents, and you come and visit. Or you could come to the premiere of the movie I just finished. It’s about World War II. I get to make dramatic speeches and pound the table with my fist a lot. It’d be great.”

I’m trying to think about our next few months, the boys’ school holidays. “There are teacher training days…Thanksgiving’s only a few days, but we do get two weeks around Christmas.”

“That’d work out. You’ll be down to see your mom and dad at Christmastime anyway, right?”

I take a very deep breath.

“What?” He looks at me, measuring my reaction.

“You want me to see you in LA?”

“Why not?”

“Frankly, I keep trying to figure out what you see in me.”

“Because why?”

“Because you are a world-famous, handsome movie star. I am a widow with two kids and a very hairy dog.”

“Now, just because I’ve mostly seen you in running clothes with a liberal coating of dog fur—”

“Don’t forget—I haven’t had a good hair day in your presence yet.”

“True. But you’re missing the point. You have your eyes open to the stuff that matters to me too.”

Right now, for whatever reason, I feel overwhelmed. Suddenly I see this for what it is: I’m standing at the top of another chute, another steep run. I can almost hear Peter.
Well, what’s it going to be? Stand up here and think about all the ways you’re going to crash, or jump in and ski already?

“Ski already.”

“What?” Andrew heard that. I must have said it out loud.

“Nothing. I’d love to see you work, and the boys would love it if they got to visit with you again. Maybe you could…” I leave off. I was going to say
meet my parents
but the words totally freaked me out and stuck in my throat.

“Maybe I could meet your folks.” He said it. Wow.

“Yeah, that too.” I need to be pinched.

“What?” He’s looking at me. I must have a weird expression.

“I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or to wake up. Or for you to turn into Ike Turner.”

“Who?”

Exasperated, I’m about to respond, but he elbows me. “I know who he is. You’re too easy.” He chuckles and jogs ahead to catch the boys.

I stay on the dam’s walkway for a moment and turn to face downriver. The wind pushes me from behind. I see a flash in the corner of my eye and look up to see a bald eagle swoop down from the canyon rim. He cruises past me, flying downriver to who knows where. He doesn’t seem too worried about his destination. I wish I could say the same.

13: You Just Got Here

W
HEN
W
E
G
ET
H
OME
, both boys must be done with the whole bonding thing because they disappear upstairs. There are many TV shows to watch and other boy things to be done, apparently.

Andrew paces in the kitchen. “Can Hunter and Beau stay here tonight for a while if we want to go out for a bit?”

Red flags wave. “If we go out, you’ll get recognized, won’t you?” I don’t want the weekend spoiled.

Andrew puts on the tea kettle. “If we went through the McDonald’s drive-thru, I bet no one would notice.”

“That sounds fun.” I watch his face for a clue about what’s brewing.

“I’m just saying, there are ways for us to go out without, you know,
going out
.” He pulls out two mugs for tea.

“I’ll let the boys know they aren’t to pound on one another for a couple hours tonight. If we hook them up with Chinese takeout, it’ll buy us some time.”

He nods. He’s up to something.

A few hours later, we say goodbye to the boys after outfitting them with provisions and movies. As we walk out the door, he takes the keys.

“You’re the driver tonight?” I ask.

“If it’s okay with you. I’ve got a plan.”

I’m at a loss. This is supposed to be my turf. “I have to say I’m intrigued. Where’re we going?”

He hustles around to the passenger side and lets me in. Only then does he answer. “We’re just going on a drive. Go with it.” Then he’s in the car.

He smiles devilishly. I’m in for it. It doesn’t matter where we’re going; with a smile like that, it’s got to be trouble.