skinnier than Dad, and his hair is almost entirely gray, and he’s wearing those white pajama-type things like all the employees here, and I wonder when the heck we’re going to be able to see
Dad
.
Then the man looks up, and my heart trips over itself.
The man
is
Dad.
“KEN!” Dad cries out in this excited, desperate way, standing up from the chair and raising his arms, looking like he’s about to leap across the room and hug Ken/Neth.
Before I can figure out why Dad is so excited to see Ken/Neth, Patricia Chevalier steps in front of Ken/Neth and the brightness drains from Dad’s face, and his arms fall back down to his sides. He still hasn’t seen us, since we’re hidden behind Ken/Neth and Patricia Chevalier in the dim, narrow opening, and it’s driving Roo crazy, so she pushes through them and bombs her way across the room toward Dad. I’m stuck just standing there watching Dad’s face when he sees Roo.
Nothing has ever upset me as much as this:
When Dad sees Roo, his face fills with fury. I had no idea Dad could make a face like that. He’s never in my entire life ever made that face.
He doesn’t open his arms to the hot little cannonball of Roo the way he always used to. Instead, she just crashes into his legs and stands there looking up at him.
“Um, Dad, hello?” she says. Then, “Dad! Hi! We love you!”
He’s staring at the doorway, where Mom and I are stepping out from behind the others.
“Sylvia,” Dad says, and his voice gets a little funny, like he might cry, but when I look back at his face it’s still furious. “Why are you here?”
It sounds more like an accusation than a question. Mom stares at him, shocked, her tulip dress hanging limply.
Excuse me, but didn’t Ken/Neth say that Dad was “Very, very excited” to see us?
And now Dad is acting like we’ve done some big terrible thing by coming here?
Also, why did he call her
Sylvia
? Dad always calls Mom
Via
, as in short for Sylvia, “my road to good things,” he liked to say, because
via
I guess means “road” in Italian.
“Hug your wife,” Patricia Chevalier says, her voice smooth and sweet, and I’m grateful that at least someone around here is trying to make this go the way it should. “She came all this way to see you.”
Dad glances at Patricia Chevalier, who nods at him, and then he takes five mechanical steps toward Mom. She grabs hold of his waist and pulls him toward her and nuzzles into his chest. This is the way my parents hug whenever they see each other at the end of the day, and I’ve always liked to watch them, because it makes everything seem safe and cozy and good, and for a second I feel all those lovely feelings, until I notice that this is just a weird version of that normal hug, because Dad isn’t smiling down at Mom the way he usually would, and his face is still furious, and it starts to really freak me out.
Mom pulls back just a bit and looks up at Dad.
“Jimbo,” she whispers, her oldest nickname for him. “What’s going on?”
But Dad just shakes his head silently, maybe even sadly, as he gazes down at her.
Mom lets go of him and I can see that she’s crying quietly. And it’s awful.
Inside I’m going,
What the
heck? Maybe I didn’t expect it to be perfect, but I sure didn’t expect it to be this bad. This is So Much Worse than I ever could have imagined.
Roo is still standing where Dad left her, staring at his back and making little whimpering sounds. Noticing the noise, Dad turns around and walks over to her. He puts his hand on her head, the exact way he used to. But rather than smiling, Roo just looksworried. After a few seconds, she wriggles free from him and runs back across the room toward us.
“Madeline,” Dad says, finally turning his attention to me. He never calls me Madeline. I wish he would call me Madpie. I wish a lot of things.
“Hi, Dad,” I say. I feel weird.
“Hi,” he says so softly I can barely hear it.
I feel like I need to do something,
Dad
.
Then the man looks up, and my heart trips over itself.
The man
is
Dad.
“KEN!” Dad cries out in this excited, desperate way, standing up from the chair and raising his arms, looking like he’s about to leap across the room and hug Ken/Neth.
Before I can figure out why Dad is so excited to see Ken/Neth, Patricia Chevalier steps in front of Ken/Neth and the brightness drains from Dad’s face, and his arms fall back down to his sides. He still hasn’t seen us, since we’re hidden behind Ken/Neth and Patricia Chevalier in the dim, narrow opening, and it’s driving Roo crazy, so she pushes through them and bombs her way across the room toward Dad. I’m stuck just standing there watching Dad’s face when he sees Roo.
Nothing has ever upset me as much as this:
When Dad sees Roo, his face fills with fury. I had no idea Dad could make a face like that. He’s never in my entire life ever made that face.
He doesn’t open his arms to the hot little cannonball of Roo the way he always used to. Instead, she just crashes into his legs and stands there looking up at him.
“Um, Dad, hello?” she says. Then, “Dad! Hi! We love you!”
He’s staring at the doorway, where Mom and I are stepping out from behind the others.
“Sylvia,” Dad says, and his voice gets a little funny, like he might cry, but when I look back at his face it’s still furious. “Why are you here?”
It sounds more like an accusation than a question. Mom stares at him, shocked, her tulip dress hanging limply.
Excuse me, but didn’t Ken/Neth say that Dad was “Very, very excited” to see us?
And now Dad is acting like we’ve done some big terrible thing by coming here?
Also, why did he call her
Sylvia
? Dad always calls Mom
Via
, as in short for Sylvia, “my road to good things,” he liked to say, because
via
I guess means “road” in Italian.
“Hug your wife,” Patricia Chevalier says, her voice smooth and sweet, and I’m grateful that at least someone around here is trying to make this go the way it should. “She came all this way to see you.”
Dad glances at Patricia Chevalier, who nods at him, and then he takes five mechanical steps toward Mom. She grabs hold of his waist and pulls him toward her and nuzzles into his chest. This is the way my parents hug whenever they see each other at the end of the day, and I’ve always liked to watch them, because it makes everything seem safe and cozy and good, and for a second I feel all those lovely feelings, until I notice that this is just a weird version of that normal hug, because Dad isn’t smiling down at Mom the way he usually would, and his face is still furious, and it starts to really freak me out.
Mom pulls back just a bit and looks up at Dad.
“Jimbo,” she whispers, her oldest nickname for him. “What’s going on?”
But Dad just shakes his head silently, maybe even sadly, as he gazes down at her.
Mom lets go of him and I can see that she’s crying quietly. And it’s awful.
Inside I’m going,
What the
heck? Maybe I didn’t expect it to be perfect, but I sure didn’t expect it to be this bad. This is So Much Worse than I ever could have imagined.
Roo is still standing where Dad left her, staring at his back and making little whimpering sounds. Noticing the noise, Dad turns around and walks over to her. He puts his hand on her head, the exact way he used to. But rather than smiling, Roo just looksworried. After a few seconds, she wriggles free from him and runs back across the room toward us.
“Madeline,” Dad says, finally turning his attention to me. He never calls me Madeline. I wish he would call me Madpie. I wish a lot of things.
“Hi, Dad,” I say. I feel weird.
“Hi,” he says so softly I can barely hear it.
I feel like I need to do something,
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