The Other Side of the World (8 page)

“Thanks but no thanks,” Seana said even as she knelt down slightly and smiled at Gabe and Anna, who were standing next to Trish, Anna holding on to Gabe's sleeve.

“So you're Gabe,” she said. “And this is your sister Anna, right?”

“That's correct,” Gabe said. “I'm ten years old, going on eleven—ten going on twenty-three is the way my mother often puts it—and my sister Anna is seventeen months old, but she can walk already, and she can talk when she chooses to.”

Trish wore black carpenter's coveralls on top of a button-down light-blue shirt, but they didn't do much to hide the fact that she'd gained a considerable amount of weight since the last time I'd seen her—twenty to thirty pounds, at least—and I was glad she'd warned me so that I didn't gape. The house looked the way it always had—as if the people who worked the local flea markets were storing their stuff there: clothing, suitcases, backpacks, dishes, pots and pans, Mason jars, wicker baskets, hat boxes, lamps, catalogs, magazines, and books piled everywhere.

What I wasn't prepared for, though, and I saw that it pleased Trish to see my surprise, was Gabe. He looked more like Nick than ever and, the shocker, seemed very sturdy. The constant restlessness that had brought on various diagnoses—ADD, ADHD, autism, Asperger's—seemed gone. His blue eyes were nearly as black as his hair, which fell to his shoulders—a shock of it lay at a diagonal across his forehead like a crow's wing—and he stared at me without blinking. I couldn't shake the feeling—I recalled that this had been so even before he was a year
old—that there was a fierce and determined old man inside him that was staring out from a little boy's head.

“Hey Gabe,” I said, and put out my hand. “It's good to see you again.”

“You're Charlie,” he said.

“I'm Charlie,” I said.

“I don't remember you, but my mother showed me your photograph.”

“I'm Charlie,” I said again, “and I remember you from when you were a little boy.”

“My father's dead,” he said.

“Sad to say, yes—your father's dead.”

“You saw him die,” he said.

“I saw him
fall
,” I said.

“That's accurate,” Gabe said, “and I accept the correction. But it's not useful information.”

“Your father was my closest friend,” I said.

“I know that already,” Gabe said. “Would you be interested in seeing his ashes?”

Trish leaned toward Gabe, but without touching him. “Not yet, sweetheart,” she said. “Be patient, all right?” She turned to us. “Lorenzo—Mister Falzetti—gave the ashes to me—brought them here in a box one day, said he'd decided they'd mean more to me than to him, and I didn't have the heart—or strength—to argue. With Lorenzo, it's always easiest to let him have his way.”

“Like father, like son?” I asked.

“Who knows?” Trish said. “Who
cares
really?”

“Did you bring us any presents?” Gabe asked.

“Oh Gabe!” Trish scolded, but softly. “I've asked you not to…”

“It's okay,” Seana said. “Yes, we brought gifts for you and for your sister.”

“Perhaps we can accept the gifts now and you can see the ashes later,” Gabe said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Seana said.

“But before we get too far into gift-giving,” Trish said, “how about a loving hug for the grieving ex-wife?”

“Of course,” I said. “Sorry I didn't…”

I moved toward Trish, but Seana was there first, and when she embraced Trish, Trish collapsed as if a strut inside her had snapped.

“I'm sorry too,” Trish said, and she started crying, her body convulsing in small spasms. “In fact, I'm
very
sorry. I'm
damned
sorry. I'm one sorry, sorry girl. Sorry… sorry…”

Seana pulled Trish closer to her, even while Anna, thumb in mouth, was pillowed between them.

After a while, Trish caught her breath and stepped away. “Now it's your turn, Charlie,” she said, and she came to me and rested her head against my chest.

“You
are
plump,” I said. “Plump and warm.”

“You used to say you preferred women who were ample.”

“Still true.”

“I do well on amplitude tests,” she said.

“No one better,” I said, and a moment later: “And hey—I
am
sorry about Nick.”

“He never saw fatherhood as a vocation, I suppose,” she said. “I mean, he was a real bastard—mean as shit when he was wasted—and a lousy father even when he tried in his half-assed way. Still, he was all the father Gabe had.”

“And Anna? I mean, what about Anna's father, if I can ask?”

“Several of the usual small-town suspects,” Trish answered. She wiped at her nose. “I cooked supper for us. You're in for a treat.”

“That's correct,” Gabe said. “My mother and I made several of our best recipes—baked stuffed haddock, string beans with mushrooms and onions, candied yams, and another potato dish, I forget its name.”

“
Dauphinoise
,” Trish said.

“That's correct,” Gabe said. “And for dessert, we're having a blueberry crumble, which you can have with or without ice cream.”

“I fussed,” Trish said proudly. “I
like
to fuss. I was
happy
fussing—getting ready for your visit—and Gabe was a big help.”

“That's correct,” Gabe said. “My mother calls me her
sous-chef
.”

“And sometimes he's my Sioux
chief
,” Trish said.

“Ha ha,” Gabe said, his voice flat. “That's very funny. So
now
can we have our gifts?”

“Probably,” Seana said.

“
Probably?
” Gabe cocked his head to the side. “You're teasing me, right?”

“I'm teasing you,” Seana said.

Gabe smiled for the first time. “I like it when people tease me,” he said, “although they're not always successful at it the way you just were.”

Seana took a stuffed animal from the canvas bag she was carrying—a brightly colored parrot into which you could slide your hand to make it into a puppet—and handed it to Anna, and then she gave Gabe the model airplane kit we'd bought for him: a Glenn Martin Bomber.

“Thank you,” he said. “My grandfather makes excellent model ships, but I prefer airplanes, especially those from World War One. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Seana said. “And I consulted with Charlie here. He's an expert at gift-giving.”

Gabe eyed me. “I know!” he exclaimed. “My
mother
told you about my hobby, and she told you I'd been hoping to get a Glenn Martin.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“After supper, I can show you the models I've already made. I have Fokkers, Aircos, SPADs, Junkers, Vickers, Halberstadts, and a Sopwith that's a triplane with three wings, which is quite
rare. My grandfather helps me build the planes sometimes, and he's quite patient with me. Even though I'm the smartest student in my class, I also have a large temper for a boy my age. I can be difficult at times.”

“Self-knowledge is a wonderful thing,” Seana said.

“At school, I'm required to have my own teacher with me all day, in addition to the regular teacher for the other students,” he explained to Seana. “It's called special education.”

“Figures,” Seana said.

“Figures?”

“Special education for a special guy, and you're pretty special, aren't you?”

“I certainly hope so,” Gabe said.

 

After we helped Trish put the children to bed—Gabe showed us his model airplane collection and then read a story to Seana while I read one to Anna—Trish took down a small metal box from a cabinet over the sink, and asked if we wanted to smoke some funny stuff with her.

She pushed away a bunch of clothes and laundry so we could sit side by side, and stuffed what looked like pencil shavings into a small clay pipe. She lit the pipe, inhaled, held the smoke down in her lungs, exhaled, and passed the pipe to Seana.

“Sweet,” Seana said after she'd taken a long drag.

“Lovely, lovely,” I said after I'd let the smoke permeate my lungs and float up toward my brain. “This is quality stuff.”

“That's because some of it's Nick,” Trish said.

“
Nick?!
” I said.

“Did you
really
?” Seana asked.

“Uh-huh. Just a small sprinkling, though.”

“How wonderful,” Seana said.

I felt nauseated, dizzy. “You actually put some of Nick's ashes in here?” I asked.

“Uh-huh,” Trish said. “I thought of doing this—what we're
doing now—I mean I had it in mind ever since your phone call—as being a kind of private memorial ceremony Nick would appreciate, wherever he is. He's part of us now…”

This was when Seana's cell phone rang. “It's Max,” she said, looking at the phone's display screen and grinning. “His timing has always been impeccable.”

While Trish and I passed the pipe back and forth, Seana talked with Max, and told him we'd visited with Nick's parents, were now visiting with Trish and her children, and that she'd found another home away from home—a quiet place where the two of them could be happy campers while working on their books. She told him we'd already paid for a room at an inn we weren't going to use, and suggested he drive up and be our guest there.

“That would be so
cool
,” Trish said. “Even though I only met your dad a couple of times, I fell in love with him, Charlie, and used to wish he'd been
my
father. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” I said.

“I mean, it's like I miss him
because
I wanted to know him and never did, and maybe now my chance has come. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” I said again.

“We all miss you, Max,” Seana was saying. “We do. And that includes me because I become very sad when I'm away from you.”

“Me too,” I said, and I asked Seana to ask my father if he wanted to say hello to his beloved son.

“He says he only called because he misses us and that I should say ‘Goodbye and good luck' to you,” she said a moment later.

“That's the title of my favorite Grace Paley story,” Trish said. She rested her head against Seana's shoulder. “But you're still my favorite author, so there's no need to be jealous.”

Seana was asking Max to repeat something, and she held the phone near us so we could hear him.

“Good night, my dear children,” was what he said then. “And don't forget to be kind to one another.”

I heard a clicking sound, and then a dial tone.

“Is that all?” I asked.

“That's it,” Seana said.

“Well, that's
his
hang-up, I suppose,” I said.

Trish laughed. “You always had a way with words, Charlie. Even Nick used to say so, and he could really put out the word-play stuff when he got rolling.”

“Do tell,” Seana said.

“All grass is flesh,” I said while I massaged the back of Trish's neck. “That was one of Nick's lines. All grass is flesh.”

“Okay then,” Trish said. “And now I have an important question. Does what you said before about the room at Ocean House mean you're going to crash here tonight?”

“Of course,” Seana said.

“Oh I do love you,” Trish said, and she kissed Seana on the cheek.

Seana placed the pipe on my lap, took Trish's face between her hands, and kissed her on the mouth.

“
Wow!
” Trish said when they separated. She took the pipe from me, closed her eyes and inhaled. Then she and Seana flicked tongues with each other for a while, after which, while they kissed and hummed, I filled the pipe again, and tamped the good stuff down without spilling any.

“Essence of Nick,” I proclaimed some time later. “A new fragrance for a new generation!”

I thought my inventive sloganeering might inspire words of praise from Seana, but she was too deep into Trish—without my having noticed, Trish had unbuckled her coveralls and let the shoulder straps hang down—to be aware of me. And I was too stoned to be surprised or shocked by what was going on, or to wonder much about why it had never, until this moment, occurred to me that the relationship between the mother and daughter in
Triangle
might have been based on experiences Seana had been having through the years with
women
.

“What about me?” I asked quietly.

“Your time will come, sweetheart,” Seana said, but without turning away from Trish. “Be patient.”

“Patience is one of the cardinal virtues,” Trish said. “She's also one of my friends—Patience Roncka. She grew up in the Portuguese community, and she's my best friend here. She met Nick early on, but she never really knew him—not in the biblical sense, I mean.”

“Neither did I,” Seana said. “Did I miss anything?”

“No,” I said.

“Oh Charlie, you're wonderful too,” Trish said, and she turned to me, her eyes on fire with happiness.

 

In the morning, Trish was first to wake up, and she whispered that she could hear Anna talking to herself in her crib, and would have to leave us for a while.

“This is like a dream come true,” Trish said. “Correct that. It's not like a dream come true because it
is
a dream come true since I imagined the whole thing—well, some of it, anyway—before you ever got here.”