When You Go Away (23 page)

     "Mr. Randall, right?"  The woman doctor was at his side, a file in her hands.

     "That's me.  Doctor?"

     "Dr. Eady."

     "Right."

     "Your granddaughter is about to be released.  She's done so well.  Probably tomorrow.  I've already talked with your son-in-law on the phone."

     "Ex—ex-son-in-law."

     "Oh.  Well.  Yes.  I neglected to talk to him about the nursing home visit, but I see I should call him myself."

     Carl stood straight and shook his head.  "Brooke's going where?  And who is visiting?  What nurse?"

     Dr. Eady looked flustered, the mask of all-knowing, I-could-live-your-life better-than-you cracking for an instant.  "Brooke is going to…." She looked at the file.  "To your in-law's.  Or your ex in-law's.  Mrs. MacKenzie's home.  At least for the time being before she moves to . . . well, until the court case is settled.  In such cases as these, we have a nurse visit the home after discharge.  Well, I’ll call Mr. Mackenzie."

    
That little shit Preston couldn't have told me this?
  Carl thought.  What was Garnet going to do with Brooke?  How would Graham even begin to take care of her? 

     "Well," he said, trying to control himself.  He was supposed to be on his best behavior with everyone.  Who knew what would end up in court, moments of sorrow or rage or pain?  He had to be good.  This time.  Now.  "I guess you'd better talk with Graham about the nursing visit."

     Dr. Eady nodded, relieved to be on her way, tucking the chart under her arm and click, clacking around the desk and down the hall.  Carl walked back toward Brooke's room and peaked in.  The group of women circled around the bed making cooing noises, and he turned, moving down the hall to the lobby and the pay phone.  He had to get on the horn to
Preston
and see what was going on.  He had to call Noel.

     "Carl.  Carl!"  He stopped and looked up, seeing Rosie Candelero coming down the hall with a teddy bear in her arms.

     "Hi there, Rosie," he said, suddenly lifted out of his panic.  He could tell her what he wanted to say to Dr. Eady.

     "What's going on?"  She stood in front of him, and he breathed her in, some kind of perfume or soap floating around her.

     "Come here."  They walked into the small lobby and sat on the uncomfortable
hard backed
chairs, Carl turning one slightly so he could look at her straight on.  "I didn't know it until just now, but Brooke's going to be staying at Garnet's.  With Graham.  He hasn't even come to visit her yet, and the court is letting her go home to . . . that!  I just don't get it.  Preston keeps talking about the best interest of the child, and I don't see it at all.  I guess I had this fantasy that they'd let Brooke come to my house."

     "When did you find this out?"

     "Just now.  They're both being very slippery.  Not a call, mind you.  No heads up for Peri.  And you should see her in there with Brooke right now.  It about broke my heart."

     Rosie set the Teddy bear on the chair next to her.  "Peri's out?  I mean, released?"

     "That's right.  She came home Monday night."

     "That's got to be a relief.  Now she can get on with the business of getting well.  It's going to take a while, but she's lucky to have you."

     Carl held his chin in one hand, feeling the wiry stubble on the soft skin between thumb and index finger.  He hadn't had time for a good close shave for what?  A week?  He hadn't played tennis or done a damn thing in his yard, and for a moment, he resented the hell out of Peri and her flipping problems.  She should have called him, dammit.  A long time ago.  But then he remembered her face as she said, "Why did you leave?"   And he shook his head.  Peri was nowhere near lucky to have him.  He was the lucky one, even if it pissed him off.  He was getting a second chance.

     "Thanks, Rosie.  I mean, for everything.  I keep saying it, but you've been great this whole time.  I really don't know what we'd have done if you hadn't bailed us out."

     She laughed, her teeth white against her olive skin.  "Like I had something better to do than work?  Or fix meals for my overgrown son?  That little girl in there did something to me.  I can't tell you how I felt when I walked into her room at that apartment.  And Carly.  You know how I feel about her."

     "I'm going to have to pack up that apartment.  Peri's going to be with during the trials—whatever is going to happen."

     "Well, you come over and pack, and I'll help.  Then I'll make you some dinner.  Maybe some of my famous pork chops.  My son loves them."

     Carl sighed.  He'd never even asked her son's name or occupation, imagining she was as involved with his problems as he was.  Who could have a son at a time like this?  "What's your son's name?  I never asked."

     "Ricky.  He's twenty-four and a mama's boy, I'll tell you that.  I keep waiting for him to find a girl that sticks, but no luck so far."

     Carl smiled, patting her hand.  "Maybe we'll have luck with both our kids this year.  Here's to hoping."

     He stuck out his hand, and she took it, shaking with him over this basic wish


.

     "He can't have her.  He won't take care of her.  He hasn't even seen her.  The nurses told me only Garnet's been there, not Graham."  Peri sat facing the highway, repeating herself over and over again.  Carl drove more slowly than usual, as if the lower speed would calm her down.  Would shut her up.  Would calm
him
down. 

     "It's just for now.  Remember that.  We haven't even had a court decision."  He used the voice he'd cultivated for clients, soft, reassuring, seductive; a voice that promised a quick close, a smooth, clean escrow.  It had always worked before, but now Peri seemed
on the verge of something bad.  He didn't know what he would do if she flipped out again, and if she did, that would be it.  No kids, a life of slow years at the funny farm.

     "But now turns into forever,” she said.  “Haven't you of all people noticed?  You make a decision in the moment and then live with it for the rest of your life.  That's what could happen here.  He could get them all because of this,
this
now."

     Carl swallowed.  "Peri, did you take your--your medicine today?"

     She turned to him.  "Am I acting weird?"

     "A little obsessive, I think."

     "I'm losing my daughter.  The one I hurt.  Don't you think that would upset me, Dad?  Isn't that a normal feeling?  I don't think I'm going to blow up and kill people.  I just know--I'm sure I'm going to die if I can't be with her.  If I can't make it up to her.  Did you see her?  Did you see her in that bed?"

     Peri leaned against the dashboard and began sobbing.  He reached over to pat her shoulder, and then scared by her ragged sobs, pulled over on the freeway shoulder, cars roaring past them.  "Don't.  I’m sorry.  You're right.  I just get nervous.  I don't know how . . . ."

     "You don't, do you?  And either do I.  I don't know how to do this at all," she said, her voice muffled in her arms.

     "You will.  So will I.  Let's figure it out together," he said, grabbing her and sliding her across her seat to him.  "I’m sorry.  Let's go home.  Let's work on today, Periwinkle." 
She nodded against his chest, her tears soaking his shirt.  He wanted today to be the worst of all, each following day better with the seconds that ticked into minutes and then hours.  And he hoped that all the plans they made would turn into truths they could live with forever.

Noel was in the front yard talking to Mrs. Trimble over the rhododendron bushes when they arrived home.  When he heard the Corvair rumble up the street, Noel waved to her, smiling as he walked toward the garage.

     "She's a nice lady," Noel said.  "Why haven't you ever told me about her?"

     Carl shrugged and closed his door.  "What are you doing here?  I thought you had a long day at work?"

     "Don't worry about it.  I thought you might want to go and play tennis or something.  Maybe Peri and I will take a walk."  He bent down and looked at Peri, who was combing her wind-messed hair.

     "How did it go?"  Noel whispered.

     "Not good, not bad.  She's okay now," Carl said.  "Keep an eye on her.  She's upset."

     Peri stepped out and smiled at Noel, moving into his arms, and Carl felt something in his throat.  He searched for a name for his feeling.  Was he jealous?  Was this a scene out of "Lousy father jealous that others are more important"?  What could he expect?  But no,
it wasn't jealousy.  It was pride.  It was "Two damn good kids hang together despite all."  Whatever he might have done in the past, at least their sibling relationship was still intact.



     "Come on!"  Ramon yelled.  "That ball was completely in."

     "I call them as I see 'em,” Carl said, walking back to the service line.  "If you want to make calls over here, you're on the wrong side."

     "Ignore him," his partner Bob said, whispering to Carl as they plotted strategy for the next serve.  "He's trying to psyche you out. He always says he gets hooked on a call."

     "Don't try to figure this one out," Ramon said.  "No amount of talking will prepare you for this."

     Carl smiled, and then the ball was sailing to his forehand--almost a sitter--and he whacked it back, watched it skim past Ramon's partner Alex, a new guy.  Ramon stood slack-mouth and then grimaced, ignoring Alex's feeble apology, obviously missing Ralph and his killer backhand.

     "That's how the game is played, boys," Carl said, giving Bob a high-five.  "That is how the game is played."

     At The Big C an hour and two sets later, Carl sipped his second martini and stared at the television, barely listening to Bob tell Ramon about his ex-wife and her new boyfriend, the dentist.  With the conversation, the noise, the
everyday
sound of the local news, the alcohol in his blood--his first real drink in over a week--he could almost imagine that the time since Peri disappeared was a terrible dream he'd awakened from.  Bob nudged his arm, and Carl joined in the laughter, not caring what he was laughing about, just glad to do it, the sound rippling up his throat hard and gritty, like his Corvair on a cold February morning.

     "Damn straight," he added, not caring if it didn't make sense, but it did, Bob nodding and moving his hands, Ramon slapping his hand on the counter.

     "Where the hell were you this week?"  Bob said, the topic spinning toward Carl like a can-opener serve.  "We needed to plan our trip down to the San Diego tournament in the summer. I called the house a couple, no three, times."

     "Me, too," said Ramon.  "I left some damn funny messages, too."

     Carl shook his head, vodka coating his teeth.  He stuck the toothpick now empty of olives in his mouth, pretending to work an imaginary seed from between his back molars.  "Yard work.  That flipping sprinkler was killing me."

     Ramon looked at him with dark eyes.  "Yeah?  That's it?"

     "My neighbor," Carl continued, his lie stretching to the breaking point.  "She's on my back about her rhododendrons.  'Prize bushes,' she tells me.  'Precious plants,' she says. 
So I had to dig and replace one pipe and a head.  Pain in the ass.  But at least she's off mine."

     Both of his friends were silent, staring at their drinks. 
What?
  Carl thought. 
What do they want?
"So tell me about the San Diego trip."

     Neither Ramon nor Bob said anything, the space between them filling with restaurant sounds, the clack of plates, the TV's endless whine. Outside, people rushed in and out of Arturo’s Burritos Fabulosos and the new deli, carrying take-home in plastic bags; kids ran in Karate uniforms to classes, parents racing behind them carrying duffel bags and water bottles.

     "You know it was in the papers, Carl.  Even on the news.  You could have called us," Bob said, turning his beer glass in his hands.

     "Yeah, man.  It's not like you had to deal with this on your own," Ramon added.  "We're your
compadres
."

     Carl nodded, thought of his car, the top down, the air all around him. 
Go
, he thought. 
Just go
.  But where?  Where could he go now?  He'd run away from enough in his life, letting everything important play out around him.  He hadn't gone to Janice's bedside once while she was sick, just showing up at the funeral and sitting in the back of the church, trying not to notice how Noel and Peri ignored him.  His boy and girl had grown into adults without more than twice monthly visits; all their important life events going on as if on TV, things he could catch-up on during summer reruns.  But life had no
reruns.  He'd seen that this week, one inexorable moment moving into the next without time to take any of it back and make it right.

     And now his tennis buddies wanted him to let them in.  Something he'd never wanted himself.  "It's--it's been awful," he said quietly, staring at the circles of water on the counter.  "It's been terrible to watch."