Seems Like Old Times (33 page)

"Absolutely.
You're lucky.
It's one of the few meals I can cook."

He grinned,
then
placed parsley,
onions, mushrooms, tomato paste, spices, plus a pound of spaghetti on the
counter. Before joining Ben, he helped Lee with the chopping. By the time he
finished, Ben had attempted to work a few of the math problems.

Tony rinsed off his hands. "Go ahead and cook all the
spaghetti, Lisa. I like it cold for breakfast."

He has to be joking, she thought.

While she cooked, she watched Tony bend over the table,
his head nearly touching Ben's as he tried to explain the mysteries of
fractions to the boy.

They worked well together, and Tony showed more patience
and ability to sit still than she ever dreamed he possessed. She was so
intrigued watching the two of them in the warm kitchen, the savory smell of her
sauce filling the air, that she nearly overcooked the spaghetti.

"Dinner's ready," she announced.

"That's enough homework tonight, Dad. You want to
have time to talk to Lisa, don't you?"

"All that's left is English, and there's plenty of
time for you to do it after dinner," Tony said. "Anyway, Lisa's a lot
better at grammar than I am. She probably even understands diagramming
sentences. I'm sure she'd love to help you. Right, Lisa?"

She froze in the middle of pouring Italian dressing over a
simple lettuce and tomato salad. "Oh, it's been so long, I don't know if I
remember."

"Sure you do! Let's set the table, Benito."

"Actually," Lee said as she put the bowl of
spaghetti on the table, "at one time, when I was growing up, I wanted to
be a school teacher."

Tony glanced at her. "There you go, then."

They sat.

"Grace," Tony said.

"Grace," Ben repeated.

Tony glanced at Lee, his fork poised over his food, and
shrugged. "It's better than saying nothing."

She held her breath as Tony and Ben took their first taste
of the food she'd prepared. She couldn't remember the last time she cooked an
entire dinner for anyone--she always went out to dine with friends and
associates, or telephoned for home delivery. While with Miriam, she'd help, but
Miriam was the one in charge of the kitchen.

"Great spaghetti," Ben said, slurping a noodle.

"Nice," Tony added, digging in enthusiastically.

She sat back with a smile. Her cooking did taste good. She
liked making this dinner for Tony and his son; she liked hearing them praise her
efforts; and she liked watching them enjoy eating it. Maybe a sophisticated
news anchor wasn't supposed to like such domestic, plebian things, but she
couldn't stop herself from smiling as she ate.

After dinner, Tony cleared the kitchen, Ben loaded the
dishwasher, and both insisted that "the cook" sit and relax. They
worked quickly and efficiently, joking and laughing. Once again, Lee was struck
by the terrible injustice it would be if the two of them were separated.

Tony made coffee while Lee helped Ben distinguish subjects
from predicates. The boy caught on quickly, and within minutes the day's
English assignment was completed. Tony sent him out of the kitchen to play or
read, issuing a "No TV" order.

"Not even the National League play offs?" Ben
asked.

"The
Na ,
" Tony glanced
at the clock.
"Holy Christ!
With everything else
going on, I forgot!"

He all but leaped over the kitchen table in his hurry to
get to the family room to turn on the television.

Lee chuckled as she poured coffee for herself and
Tony,
then carried it to him.

"Score's tied, Lisa. Pull up a chair."

"Dad knows every player," Ben announced.

"Not every player. It's been three years since I
played."

"It would be great if you still did!" Ben said.

Tony’s face paled. "Oh...well..."

Ben smiled at his father. "But I like having you home
more."

Lee knew the exact moment when a pang of love, family, and
possible loss speared Tony’s heart because it struck hers as well. He glanced
at her, and
a closeness
stole over them, binding them
with unspoken prayers. Tony turned to Ben. "Thanks," he said, and
probably only to her ear was his voice a little too husky, a little too soft.

They settled into the game. Lee hadn't imagined how
entertaining it could be to watch baseball with Tony. He had insight and an
insider's knowledge of the game, plus he was up and down like a jumping jack.
He'd tell players what they should be doing and exactly what he thought of them
if they failed to execute a play, or he'd be thrilled and shouting praises when
someone succeeded at an especially tough maneuver. Ben copied everything his
father did. The game was close, but the Braves pulled it out in the ninth.

By the time the game ended, it was past Ben's bedtime.
Tony sent him upstairs to take a shower.

"He keeps your evenings busy," Lee said.

"Yeah.
It's fairly typical,
though, from what I've learned talking to other parents."

"It's nice."

He nodded, then his gaze became hollow and Lee knew he
thought of how empty his evenings would be if Catherine won her custody fight.

o0o

After the shower stop running, Tony waited about ten
minutes before he went upstairs to be sure Ben was getting ready for bed.

He stepped into Ben's room. "How are you doing,
son?"

Ben sat on his bed, his pajamas on, playing with a fleet
of tiny automobiles. A long moment passed.
"Fine."
He hadn’t looked up when Tony entered, hadn’t looked up when his father spoke.

Tony stood a moment watching him, then crossed the room
and sat on his bed.
"Lights out time."

Big tears well up in Ben's eyes and the boy suddenly
lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Tony's neck, holding on tight.
"Thanks for fighting for me today, Dad."

The words went straight to Tony’s heart and unshed tears
stung his eyes as he held his son. "Don’t cry, Ben." He choked out
the words. "Don’t worry. It’ll be all right."

"I love you, Dad."

Tony hugged his son hard, his eyes shut tight. "I
love you, too, son.
More than anything in the world."

He held Ben a long time. There were few things that
smelled so good or felt
so
squeaky clean as a just
bathed little boy after a long, hard day of play. What would he do without Ben
to hug? He sat beside him until Ben fell asleep, and for several minutes after
that.

o0o

From the stairs, Tony saw Lisa below, kneeling on the
floor of the living room, in front of his stereo system. His heart was heavy
with worry over Ben, and having her here helped, probably more than she
realized. He walked down a few steps. In a way, seeing her here, in this house,
seemed so right it scared him. He descended more steps, hoping he would always
remember how she looked there tonight, on the floor, flipping through his CD
collection as if she belonged here. Her shoes were off, her skirt hiked up
slightly baring long, shapely legs. She’d removed her jacket and under it she
wore a gossamer-thin little nothing of a blouse that showed the fancy lace
bodice of her slip.

Throughout the summer months, he had replayed the night
she'd spent in his home, his bed, until he thought he'd go nuts. He hadn’t
known it was possible to miss a woman that much, or to want her so badly. He’d
tortured himself with thoughts of her and her fancy boyfriend and what they
were doing together. And then she had called.

Hearing her voice, he was surprised he hadn't dropped the
phone, or yelled at her for having waited so damned long! As much as he'd
rearrange his whole week to be sure that Friday evenings he'd be home to get
her call, he hated thinking about the other days of the week--especially
Saturday night, when he'd picture her in great detail going somewhere with
Magnifico
Man, the nameless jerk she was supposedly engaged
to. Her going somewhere with the guy was bad enough to imagine, but their
returning back home was sheer torture.

He nearly leaped through the phone with joy when she
started hinting that things were not as they should be with the guy. Having her
here, now, was proof that her other relationship was over. He knew Lisa. She
wouldn't be with two men at once.

Now, for a while at least, she had chosen him. And he’d
fallen in love with her all over again. It wasn’t by choice, though. He had no
choice about such things where Lisa was concerned.
Never had.
Not from the first time he'd laid eyes on her in a schoolyard by a bicycle
stand.

That didn’t mean he was unclear about the future. He knew
it would end, just like last time. He knew that one of these times, when she
left, she wouldn’t be back.

"Hi." She looked up when he entered the room.
"I was hoping you had some old songs."

"You’ll have to look at the records. They’re in that
cabinet. They're probably pretty scratchy, though."

"Think we shouldn't play them? I wouldn't want to
damage your phonograph needle."

"No problem. I never play records anymore, just CD's
or MP3’s."

"So high tech, Mr. Santos."
She saw the far off look in his eyes, and she knew what had put it there.
"How’s Ben doing?"

He rubbed his forehead. "He's pretty upset, poor
little guy. It's surprising how much kids pick up even when you tell them
there's nothing to worry about."

"He knows you're trying your best to keep him,"
she said. "That's important."

He sat on the chair near the stereo system. "I
remember how proud I felt when I learned how much my own father wanted
me."

That surprised her. "I thought you were always with
Vic."

"No. The first four years of my life I never even saw
him."

"You never mentioned that."

"I didn't like to talk about it. I understand it now,
as an adult, but I didn't always."

"Yes?"

He smiled at her curiosity. "I've mentioned that my
mother died in childbirth. Well, it was really hard on Vic. He left me with his
sister, that's my Tia Maria, and took off. Even Tia didn't know where he was
for a long time. She used to tell me stories about my father, that he was a
great
caballero
, working with strong, beautiful horses all over the west."

"And he didn't visit you?"

"Not until I was four. I remember the day he finally
arrived at Tia's farm. I buried my face in the heavy, brown skirt my aunt
always wore and wouldn't look at him. She insisted, though, and when I finally
looked, he scared the hell out of me."

"I’m not surprised!" Lee's words came out a
little more vehemently than she intended.

Tony laughed. "He was frowning like the Devil. And he
had this huge, black mustache covering his top lip."

"And here I thought he only frowned at me," Lee
said wryly.

Tony chuckled. "Vic had no idea what to say or do
around a kid--at least not his own kid. So he just stared and scowled. He told
me later that he saw my mother in my face and my eyes and it made him feel bad for
leaving me. All I remember is that his eyes got all watery,
then
he asked Tia what he should say to me. She said, 'Tell him you love him, you
big peasant.' I couldn't believe my Tia would talk to this fierce man that way.
He didn't seem to mind, though."

"He probably knew she was right," Lee murmured.
The thought of Vic Santos being intimidated had its appeal.

"I guess. He just lowered himself onto his knees and
looked me in the eye. No words came. But as we looked at each other, it hit me
that this big, ugly man was my father...my father...and I walked over to him.
He lifted me up. His arms were like mallets. But I felt good, and secure.
Maybe for the first time in my life.
I liked the feeling. I
always wanted Ben to know it, too."

Lee's eyes grew misty as she listened to his story. She
nodded. She'd known that feeling once, long ago, but then it had died...her
father had died. And she'd forced herself to forget.

"He took me with him," Tony said. "I was
only four, but I lived on the range with my father and the other ranch hands.
When I started school, he had to take care about the jobs he took--to be sure
there was a school nearby. But we were always together."

"Like you and Ben."

His eyes clouded. "Like me and Ben."

She covered his hand. "You'll continue to be. I know
it. I believe it."

He shut his eyes, his shoulders slumped. He withdrew his
hand, and seemed to withdraw all of himself into a shell of fear of losing Ben.

She quickly flipped through the records again, needing to
take his mind off the ugliness of the day. "Say, look at this." She
held up Johnny Mathis's
Chances Are
album. "Remember how, at
parties, when it'd get late, we'd stop playing the Van Halen or
Def
Leopard and put on these old songs?"

He stood
beside
her, looking
down, and took the record. His face was still haunted by the day's events.
"There must be a couple of decades of teenagers who learned all about
'making out' to these songs."

"Let's listen."

His eyebrows went up slightly,
then
he removed the album jacket, blew on the record to remove any loose dust, and
put it on the turntable. "I hope my heart can take it," he muttered.

A nasal,
quavery
voice, breathy
and emotional, singing "Chances Are" came over the speakers. With her
older, more sophisticated ear, she realized that the singer wasn't the
Pavarotti she used to think he
was,
nonetheless she
felt a thrill go right up her spine as the familiar music filled the room.

Tony turned off all the lights but one lamp,
then
he held out his hand to her, and drew her to her feet
to dance with him.