your father?’
I swallowed, then glanced at my shut door, as if I could somehow see through it, all the way down to his. Amazing how easily my mother could get to the one thing I didn’t want to talk about. She always just knew.
I’d now been at my dad’s for three days, during which I’d probably seen him a total of, oh, three hours. He was either in his office working, in his bedroom sleeping, or in the kitchen grabbing a quick bite, en route to one or the other. So much for my visions of us hanging out and bonding, sharing a plate of onion rings and discussing literature and my future. Instead, our conversations usually took place on the stairs, a quick, ‘How’s it going? Been to the beach today?’ as we went in opposite directions. Even these, though, were better than the efforts I’d made at knocking on his office door. Then, he didn’t even bother to turn away from the computer screen, my attempts at dialogue bouncing off the back of his head like shots missing the rim by a mile.
It sucked. What was worse, though, was that if my father was nonexistent, Heidi was everywhere . If I went to get coffee, she was in the kitchen, feeding the baby. If I tried to hide on the deck, she emerged, Thisbe in the BabyBjörn, inviting me to join them for a walk on the beach. Even in my room I wasn’t safe, as it was so close to the nursery that even the slightest movement or noise summoned her, as she assumed I was as desperate for companionship as she was.
Clearly, she was lonely. But I wasn’t. I was accustomed to being alone: I liked it. Which was why it was surprising that I even noticed my dad’s lack of attention, much less cared. But for some reason, I did. And all her muffins and chatter and over-friendliness just made it worse.
I could have told my mother all of this. After all, it was exactly what she wanted to hear. But to do so, for some reason, seemed like a failure. I mean, what had I expected, anyway? So I took a different tack.
‘Well,’ I began, ‘he’s writing a lot. He’s in his office every day, all day.’
A pause as she processed this. Then, ‘Really.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘He says he’s almost done with the book, just has some tightening up to do.’
‘Tightening up that takes all day, every day,’ she said. Ouch. ‘What about the baby? Is he helping Heidi out with her?’
‘Um,’ I said, then immediately regretting it, knowing this one utterance spoke volumes. ‘He does. But she’s actually really determined to do it on her own…’
‘Oh, please,’ my mom said. I could hear her satisfaction. ‘Nobody wants to be the sole caregiver of a newborn. And if they say they do, it’s only because they don’t really have a choice. Have you seen your father change a diaper?’
‘I’m sure he has.’
‘Yes, but, Auden.’ I winced. This was like being painted into a corner, stroke by stroke. ‘Have you seen it?’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘Not really.’
‘Ah.’ She exhaled again, and I could almost hear her smiling. ‘Well, it’s nice to know some things really never do change.’
I wanted to point out that since this was what she was so sure of, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Instead, I said, ‘So how are you doing?’
‘Me?’ A sigh. ‘Oh, the same old, same old. I’ve been asked to head up the committee rewriting the English core courses for next year, with all the attendant drama that will entail. And I have several articles expected by various journals, my trip to Stratford coming up, and, of course, entirely too many dissertations that clearly cannot be completed without a large amount of hand-holding.’
‘Sounds like quite a summer,’ I said, opening my window.
‘Tell me about it. These graduate students, I swear, it just never ends. They’re all so needy .’ She sighed again, and I thought of those black-rimmed glasses sitting on the counter-top. ‘I have half a mind to decamp to the coast, like you, and spend the summer on the beach
I swallowed, then glanced at my shut door, as if I could somehow see through it, all the way down to his. Amazing how easily my mother could get to the one thing I didn’t want to talk about. She always just knew.
I’d now been at my dad’s for three days, during which I’d probably seen him a total of, oh, three hours. He was either in his office working, in his bedroom sleeping, or in the kitchen grabbing a quick bite, en route to one or the other. So much for my visions of us hanging out and bonding, sharing a plate of onion rings and discussing literature and my future. Instead, our conversations usually took place on the stairs, a quick, ‘How’s it going? Been to the beach today?’ as we went in opposite directions. Even these, though, were better than the efforts I’d made at knocking on his office door. Then, he didn’t even bother to turn away from the computer screen, my attempts at dialogue bouncing off the back of his head like shots missing the rim by a mile.
It sucked. What was worse, though, was that if my father was nonexistent, Heidi was everywhere . If I went to get coffee, she was in the kitchen, feeding the baby. If I tried to hide on the deck, she emerged, Thisbe in the BabyBjörn, inviting me to join them for a walk on the beach. Even in my room I wasn’t safe, as it was so close to the nursery that even the slightest movement or noise summoned her, as she assumed I was as desperate for companionship as she was.
Clearly, she was lonely. But I wasn’t. I was accustomed to being alone: I liked it. Which was why it was surprising that I even noticed my dad’s lack of attention, much less cared. But for some reason, I did. And all her muffins and chatter and over-friendliness just made it worse.
I could have told my mother all of this. After all, it was exactly what she wanted to hear. But to do so, for some reason, seemed like a failure. I mean, what had I expected, anyway? So I took a different tack.
‘Well,’ I began, ‘he’s writing a lot. He’s in his office every day, all day.’
A pause as she processed this. Then, ‘Really.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘He says he’s almost done with the book, just has some tightening up to do.’
‘Tightening up that takes all day, every day,’ she said. Ouch. ‘What about the baby? Is he helping Heidi out with her?’
‘Um,’ I said, then immediately regretting it, knowing this one utterance spoke volumes. ‘He does. But she’s actually really determined to do it on her own…’
‘Oh, please,’ my mom said. I could hear her satisfaction. ‘Nobody wants to be the sole caregiver of a newborn. And if they say they do, it’s only because they don’t really have a choice. Have you seen your father change a diaper?’
‘I’m sure he has.’
‘Yes, but, Auden.’ I winced. This was like being painted into a corner, stroke by stroke. ‘Have you seen it?’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘Not really.’
‘Ah.’ She exhaled again, and I could almost hear her smiling. ‘Well, it’s nice to know some things really never do change.’
I wanted to point out that since this was what she was so sure of, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Instead, I said, ‘So how are you doing?’
‘Me?’ A sigh. ‘Oh, the same old, same old. I’ve been asked to head up the committee rewriting the English core courses for next year, with all the attendant drama that will entail. And I have several articles expected by various journals, my trip to Stratford coming up, and, of course, entirely too many dissertations that clearly cannot be completed without a large amount of hand-holding.’
‘Sounds like quite a summer,’ I said, opening my window.
‘Tell me about it. These graduate students, I swear, it just never ends. They’re all so needy .’ She sighed again, and I thought of those black-rimmed glasses sitting on the counter-top. ‘I have half a mind to decamp to the coast, like you, and spend the summer on the beach
Similar Books
