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things, knapsack and overnight bags, his pillow, his lunchbox, his duck. "What "
"There was a problem & "
"Problem?" He knelt beside his son, fighting the need to hold him, to shout at Tony gazing at them calmly
from the couch. Peter edged away, making a small humming sound, his gaze fixed on the TV. "What
problem? What happened? Is he "
"No, no Teri had the problem. She tried calling you but she couldn't get through "
Brendan sighed with relief, then nodded. "Right Ashley left this afternoon, she'll be gone till next week.
But "
"I dunno, some client thing? Teri said she'd call from the airport "
Right on cue the phone rang. Brendan grabbed it.
"Brendan." Brendan could hear her swallow, fighting tears. "Jesus, Brendan. I called and called "
"I know. What happened?"
"Oh, Christ, some stupid thing. Well, not really old Mr. Wright died, everyone was expecting it but not
right before Christmas, I mean he was ninety-three. But I have to go out there to deal with his wife and
ex-wife and his sister and his kids. I'm at Dulles now, this case is a mess, you remember me telling
you "
"But Peter's okay?"
"Peter's fine. He really likes Tony, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure. So what's the deal here?"
Silence. He heard airport noises in the background, the squawk and boom of flight announcements. "The
deal is, Brendan, that I have to be out of town on business right now. And "
"How long?"
"Just till tomorrow. It was impossible to get a flight, they're completely booked, but "
"And Peter's schedule? All this talk you had about how fucking important it is for everything to be "
"Look, Brendan, stuff happens. You can't control everything. Or maybe you can, but I can't. Peter is with
me every hour, every day, every week "
"Except when he's with me "
" you have no idea how exhausting it is, being with him all the time. It's killing me, Brendan, it's "
Her voice broke, drowned in a spurt of static as another flight announcement thundered somewhere
behind her.  I can't, Brendan, not anymore, he's "
Brendan shut his eyes and took a long breath. "Teri? Teri?" He turned so that Tony and Peter wouldn't
see him. "Can you hear me? Listen, I'm sorry, really. Don't cry. We'll be fine. I know you're with him all
the time, I know how hard it is. He'll be fine "
"Shit. That's my flight. I'm sorry, Brendan, this is so crazy. But I really did try to call. He's got school, I
gave Tony the schedule. Except for Christmas Eve, but you knew that. His medicine's in the blue bag
with the dinosaurs. Okay, shit, I have to run kiss him for me, I'll call you, bye "
So.
"So." Brendan put down the phone, turned. In the living room, Peter sprawled on the floor, fingers pulling
at a thread in the carpet. On the couch behind him sat Tony, pointing excitedly at the screen.
" see, remember? Those are the real three Kings, and that guy there, he's one of the real shepherds.
But that other guy with the black beard who's sneaking up on the little donkey, he's a Sears shepherd "
"Tony. You were here when Teri dropped him off?"
Tony looked over at Brendan, surprised. "Oh. Hey, I forgot you were home. Yeah, sure I was. I was
right here, Peter and I settled down to some serious holiday cheer. Right, Petie?"
Peter continued to make the same soft nasal humming sound he always did. His eyes were still glued to
the screen: when the bad shepherd grabbed the little Puppetoon donkey and stuffed him in a sack, Peter
flinched. His father didn't notice; he was already going through Peter's bags, looking for the pages of
instructions he knew would be there.
"Well, thanks. What the hell was she going to do if you weren't here? Why didn't she go by my office?"
"She did. She couldn't even get in the building."
Brendan grimaced. "Damn, that's right. Christmas party next door, they all went down to the Hawk &
Dove. And I wasn't picking up the phone."
"You didn't go to the Christmas party?"
"No, Tony, I didn't go to the Christmas party. I mean, what's the point? They don't give you a present."
Tony looked shocked. "They don't give you a present?"
"No, you bonehead." Brendan bopped him on the shoulder with Teri's instructions. "Of course they don't
give you a present. That was a joke. But I really am glad you were here when she came. C'mere,
Peter "
He reached for his son, steeling himself for the boy to turn away or, worse, fail to acknowledge him at all.
Instead Peter remained where he was, watching TV. When Brendan touched his arm, he could feel the
ripple of muscle beneath his son's bare skin. Or maybe it wasn't muscle at all; maybe it was nerve, maybe
that was how exposed it all was to Peter, bound sheaves of neurons and ganglions and dendrites, veiled
with nothing more than that soft white tissue of baby skin, the tiny hairs like a dusting of snow, the sweet
powdery smell of him. For an instant he was close enough to smell him, so close it made him dizzy, made
him forget for a moment where or when it was like when Teri was still breastfeeding and they would lie
in bed together and he could smell all of them at once, his own sweat, and Teri's, and Peter's scent, a
scent he had always thought came from baby powder strange and warm, like honeysuckle, or
bread but which he knew now came from babies.
"Peter," he whispered.
For a split second, Peter did not move away. Brendan held his breath until it hurt, until he could feel his
own nerves shimmering alongside his son's, the two tines of a broken tuning fork suddenly and
miraculously vibrating together. Peter's skin was warm, warmer than Brendan's own; there was a sticky
spot within the crook of his elbow, jelly or paste or generic childhood crud. He was close enough to see
the small red crescent just below his hairline, where another child had accidentally struck him with a
block. Still holding his breath, Brendan let his fingers move ever so slightly down his son's arm, towards
his hand
 but it was too much. The nasal humming became a grunt, of annoyance or fear or pain; and the boy
shrugged him off.
"Peter." Brendan spoke his name, louder this time. Peter nodded a half-nod, really, jerking his chin
downward a fraction of an inch and scooched closer to the television. Brendan watched him, biting his
lip; then turned to Tony. "Well. One big happy family. I guess I'll make dinner." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]