Is This Tomorrow: A Novel (32 page)

Jake didn’t call that night or the next morning. She finally phoned him and a voice told her that the line was disconnected and there was no forwarding number. He had left. She had told him to and he had done it. So why was she surprised?

She walked into Bell’s that evening with her pies, and as soon as Bell tasted one, she frowned and Ava knew she had ruined the bunch. “Come in the back with me,” Bell said, and then, when Ava started to cry and tell her about Jake, Bell took both her hands. “He doesn’t deserve someone like you,” Bell said. “I should have known he was a rotter, but he had me, just like he had you.”

Ava wiped a hand over her eyes. “I’m such a fool,” she said. Her life used to be so full. She was busy with being a wife, being a mother, even a girlfriend. Now, look at her. She was alone. Brian, Jake, and Lewis—even Jimmy—all the guys who had meant something to her, were now gone.

Bell sat up straighter. “Actually, you’re not a fool,” Bell said. “But I am. I should have done this a while ago. I’m tired. This place is a lot of responsibility. It’s a headache and a half.”

Ava stared at her. “Please don’t tell me you’re closing the café,” she said.

Bell smiled. “I’m not,” she said. “I’m giving it to you to run. If I pay you to learn the ropes, will you manage my café?”

Chapter Twenty

Brian Lark pulled the car into the drive and bounded into the house to find his wife Glory sitting on the couch with a young man and woman he had never seen before. He had had a long day at the car lot and was tired, but he knew how to flip on the switch to be welcoming and pleasant. Brian thrust his hand out, nodding enthusiastically. The young man stood, but looked at Brian’s outstretched hand and frowned. “I’m Lewis,” he said.

Brian cocked his head, disoriented. “Lewis?” He took a step closer. He saw the glasses of cold drinks already out on the coffee table. Glory was watching him carefully.

Brian couldn’t stop looking at his grown son. He kept trying to find the things that were familiar about him: the shape of his nose, the deep muddy color of his hair, the way Lewis had gestured with his right hand, the same way he did when he was seven. This young man didn’t look anything like Brian and very little like the boy he remembered. He touched Lewis’s shoulder, almost as if he expected to get a shock. “Are you okay? Did something happen? Is your mother okay?” Brian asked.

“We’re both fine,” Lewis said, but he wasn’t meeting Brian’s eyes. “I just wanted to see you after all this time.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Brian said. He felt his voice go boisterous, the way it did when he was trying to close a deal at the lot. He saw the girl exchange a look with Lewis. “I’m Rose,” she said, standing up and offering her hand.

He was used to picking up hesitation, the clip of fear people felt before purchasing a car that might be too expensive for them. He knew a smile could work wonders and he brightened his. “Sit, sit,” Brian said. “Take a load off. We have so much to talk about.” But when Lewis and Rose sat down, Brian felt suddenly tongue-tied. There was so much he wanted to know. “Tell me where you live,” he finally said. “What you’re doing now.” He leaned forward, listening as Lewis told him about living in Madison and being a nurse’s aide.

“You work in a hospital?” Brian thought of his father, a surgeon, who had wanted Brian to go into medicine and had told him working at a car lot was low-class. When his father had died, he had left Brian only bad memories and a gold watch that Brian promptly pawned.

“He has your eyes,” Glory said encouragingly.

“So you’re doing well,” Brian said. He knew he had been a crappy father, but looking at Lewis now, he felt relieved. His son had what sounded like a good job and a pretty girl at his side. He had turned out okay, and maybe that had nothing to do with Brian, but what did that matter now that they were here together?

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Glory said and Brian looked at her, surprised, because outside of one conversation he had with Glory when they had first met, when they were spilling their lives out to each other, he had never wanted to discuss his past.

He saw the girl gently jostle Lewis.

“All right,” Lewis said to her. Then he turned to Brian.

“Can I ask you something? Will you tell me the truth?” Lewis asked.

Brian looked at the drinks on the table. “No alcohol in there,” Glory said quietly, and Brian picked one up and sipped. Ginger ale sparkled in his throat, but he still felt parched. He swallowed. “Ask anything.”

“Tell me why you left us,” Lewis said.

There it was. Right in front of him.

Brian put his drink down. He saw the watery ring it made on the mahogany table, and he bet Glory did, too, but she didn’t move to get a napkin or one of their World’s Fair coasters to put under the glass. She just sat there, the way Lewis and Rose were, waiting. “Does it matter now?” Brian asked finally. “You’re here now, I’m here. We’re both adults.”

All the sounds in the room boomed in his head. The ticking of the clock, the steady breathing of Glory beside him. Lewis was looking at him as if he understood nothing. “You never called or visited. And then you stopped trying to get custody of me. I found the letter in Mom’s stuff. Why did you disappear from my life?” Lewis asked. “What happened? Was it because of me, because of something I did? I just want—I need—to know.”

“Lewis, no—” Brian said. “You were my son. I loved you.”

“Then why didn’t you ever come back for me?”

“What are you talking about?” Brian said. “I did come back.”

B
RIAN HAD COME
back to Waltham a week after his own father died, about ten years ago. He was drunk that day, the way he was most days then, but he could still drive. Grieving for his father, for all that might have been, had made him suddenly want to see his own son, and the more he thought of Ava and her men, the more he felt his blood boiling. He had to see for himself what was going on.

And he missed her, too. He hadn’t met Glory yet and he was tired of being alone. He was beginning to wonder if he had made a big mistake leaving his family.

As soon as he got out of Cleveland, he had another beer and felt better. God, but he hated Cleveland. He had left Waltham and his family to be with this new woman, Becky, but it didn’t take long for that to sour and for her to start looking at him like he was something she’d stepped in. He didn’t know which he hated more, her or his job at her father’s paper company, but both of them made him drink.

When he had arrived in Ava’s neighborhood, he had wanted to leave. He had promised Ava the suburbs, but he’d never been able to deliver, and here she was, getting it for herself without him. He parked and looked at the house numbers, looking for Ava’s. He looked longingly at the six-pack of beer in the backseat. If he drained one, he’d feel better, but then she’d smell it on his breath. She might not even let him in the house. He suddenly felt sick with nerves. Would Ava even be at home? He glanced at his watch. Quarter to five. Didn’t she tell him she worked part-time? But then again, there was a lot she hadn’t been telling him these days. Maybe there was some man. Maybe he had already taken Brian’s place with Lewis.

Don’t think like that, he told himself. The thing to do was look ahead. Number
120
. There was her house. A small bright blue ranch on the corner, with dried-out looking grass, but she had planted yellow flowers by the walkway, like small, bobbing suns. He parked the car and walked around to the side of the house, peering in the windows. He saw the wood table in the dining room, covered with a rose-colored cloth. He could see a bit of her kitchen, all yellow and sunny. When he walked to the back, he saw the laundry on the clothesline. A red dress. A blue skirt. A pair of boy’s dungarees. He walked over and took Ava’s skirt in his hands. He pressed it to his face, shutting his eyes. Lemon detergent and fresh air. For a moment, he wavered on his feet. There had been times that he had loved her so much he had thought that he was going mad. He walked back around to the front of the house, practicing what he would say.
Hi, this is a surprise. Hi, I missed you. Hi, I’m sorry. Hi, please forgive me.

He reached the front porch just as the front door opened. There, shining in front of him, was his son.

“Hi,” he said and Lewis faltered.

Lewis stood on the top porch step, looking down at Brian so that Brian had to crane his neck to see him. “You know who I am, don’t you, son?” Brian said. He hadn’t seen Lewis since he was seven or so, but the kid still should still remember his own father.

Lewis didn’t move. “Is your mom around?” His throat was so dry he could hardly speak. “What time does she get home? She must be working, right?”

Lewis kept watching him. “Come on, then,” Brian said. “We’ll figure it out later. My car’s right over there,” he said. “Let’s go for a drive.” He thought maybe he and Lewis could get an ice cream or something and be back before Ava got home. “Maybe I’ll even let you drive.” He was kidding, but he kept thinking how much easier it would be to charm Ava if he had already won Lewis over. Brian was beginning to feel dizzy from the sun and from the drink. He could feel himself sweating and he didn’t like the way Lewis was looking at him. He walked up the porch steps and reached for his son, opening his arms for a hug.

“Don’t touch me!” Lewis said, stepping back.

“I understand you’re mad,” he said. “I’d be mad, too—”

“Get away from me!”

“You don’t talk that way to me,” Brian said, his patience thinning. “I come all the way here to see you and this is the way you treat me?” It was too hot for this. He wanted iced coffee, a cigarette, a nice cold beer. “Get in the car,” he snapped, and he reached for Lewis’s arm, but Lewis jerked away. “What’s the matter with you?” Brian said. “Get in the car!” he scolded, grabbing Lewis again, this time getting a hand on his son’s arm, tightening his grip. “Let me go!” Lewis said, and when Brian ignored him and started dragging him down the porch steps, Lewis twisted around and bit Brian’s hand. The shock of the pain made Brian release his son. “What the hell!” Brian said, rubbing his palm. A line of red teeth marks braceleted his skin. “You little devil!” he said, but Lewis was running wide around him into the street. “Hey!’ Brian shouted. “Hey! Don’t you run away from me! Get back here!”

Brian ran, too. He hadn’t run like this since he was a boy himself. Already he felt how his extra pounds slowed him, and his legs weren’t the pistons they used to be. The wind sang in his ears. His son! He was running after his own son! He was a quarter of the way down the block when his knees buckled and his breath stitched up. He was too drunk to run anymore. He shut his eyes and the world swam and when he opened them, Lewis was gone. Brian bent over, bracing both hands on his knees, his shoulders shaking. “You come back here!” he cried, panting, but the street was empty, and all he heard was the endless whine of mosquitoes.

He walked around the neighborhood three times, trying to find Lewis. The streets were all quiet and when he called Lewis’s name, it felt like it was echoing back to him. Where the hell was everyone? Weren’t the suburbs supposed to be filled with people? When he got back to Ava’s house, he rang the bell, just in case Lewis had come back or Ava was there. No one answered. His head throbbed. He wanted another beer. He searched his pockets for a scrap of paper, for a pen, so he could write a note. But what would he say? Sorry? Call me? He didn’t have any paper. He had no pen. And the only place anyone could call him was in Cleveland, and by then it would be too late. He looked down the street one last time, but it was empty. He couldn’t go to a house and ring the bell and ask for a pen, could he? He tried to remember where Ava had said she worked, but had she ever told him? His mind stretched out, blank as a sheet.

He put his hand against the wood of the door. Then he turned and went back to his car and got in it. He rested his head on the steering wheel, trying to think what to do.

His son had bitten him and run. When Ava found out, she’d be furious with him. Any possibility of tender feelings would be ground into glass. He thought of all the things he should have done. He should have called first, set up a time to see them. What did he think, a surprise was a good idea? Who was he kidding? He had fucked it up all over again.

It took him hours to drive home and the whole time he couldn’t stop thinking about Lewis running away from him. He reached back around and grabbed up a bottle of beer and slugged it down, and then, because he still felt like crap, he had another. He had to keep stopping himself from turning around and going back, from finding a pay phone and calling until he got someone so he could explain. He kept replaying it all in his mind. The way Lewis had bolted and struggled against him. That wasn’t forgiveness. That was not wanting to have anything to do with you. He ran one hand over his eyes.

What did it matter? What would have happened anyway if Lewis had gone with him? He would have taken his son out for a treat and maybe they would have had a good time. But then what? He’d return him to Ava, where he belonged. Ava would make small talk with him, but he knew suddenly how much of a fool he had been. Ava never called him to talk. She hadn’t asked him to come back, not once. Not ever. She didn’t miss him. And even if she and Lewis were willing to pack up and move with him, did he even want that? Would he return to Massachusetts, where he had been a failure? How long could he keep beating himself up for mistakes he had made? “When you keep hitting something and nothing changes, then maybe it’s time to get rid of the whip,” he had read once. Brian hadn’t known what it meant until now.

He reached for another beer, and then a car zoomed into his line of vision, the horn blaring, driving him off the road. He wrenched the wheel, pumping the brakes frantically. The car slammed up on the shoulder and onto the grass, banging into a tree so hard, his neck whiplashed. But the car had stopped and he was unhurt.

Brian knew people sometimes could pinpoint the moment when their lives changed for the better, and that day, when he was drunk, by the side of the road, surprised to find himself alive, was Brian’s. He managed to get the car back on the road and stopped at the first diner he saw. His hands were shaking so badly, he spilled black coffee all over the counter. “Never mind, honey,” the waitress said, mopping it up for him, and she was so kind, so concerned, that he wanted to cry. He got a hotel room and slept it off. When he returned to Cleveland, he found an AA meeting. To his surprise, he actually liked AA. He had never really been religious, but he found he liked when everyone talked about surrendering to a higher power outside of yourself. You could find support, acceptance, and help. Even though he had been a drunk and a cheater who had left his wife and son, even though he’d had a father who had dismissed him, God understood and offered second chances and all he had to do was ask for them. It was a remarkable comfort.

Gradually, Brian stopped drinking. He had chips for three weeks of sobriety and then two months and then six. He displayed them on his dresser so it was the first thing he saw every morning. AA told him to surround himself only with people who supported him and when Becky made a crack about all his sobriety chips junking up the decor, he broke up with her. “Fine,” she said. “Who cares? I was about to do it myself.” When he stopped seeing Becky, things got a little less friendly at the paper company, but it didn’t matter because he had decided he was getting out, going back to what he loved to do. He got a lead through one of the guys at AA and began managing a new car lot, and the first week he was on the job, Glory walked in, a tall gorgeous blonde, and his life changed again.