Beautiful boy a fathers journey phần 3
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Atmidnight,thestormthathasbeenbuildingfinallyhits.There'sa
hardrain,andintermittentvolleysofhailstonespeltdownlike
machine-gunfireonthecopperrooftiles.Werarelyhaveelectrical
storms,buttonighttheskylightsuplikepoppingflashbulbs.
Betweenthunderclaps,Ihearthecreakingoftreebranches.Ialso
hearNicpaddingalongthehallway,makingteainthekitchen,quietly
strumminghisguitarandplayingBjörk,Bollywoodsoundtracks,and
TomWaits,whosingshissensibleadvice:"Neverdriveacarwhen
you'redead."IworryaboutNic'sinsomniabutpushawaymy
suspicions,remindingmyselfhowfarhehascomesincetheprevious
schoolyear,whenhedroppedoutofBerkeley.Thistime,hewenteast
tocollegeandcompletedhisfreshmanyear.Givenwhatwehavebeen
through,thisfeelsmiraculous.Bymycount,heiscominguponhis
onehundredandfiftiethdaywithoutmethamphetamine.
Inthemorningthestormhaspassed,andthesunshimmersonthe
wetmapleleaves.IdressandjoinKarenandthelittlekidsinthe
kitchen.Nic,wearingflannelpajamabottoms,afrayingwoolsweater,
andx-rayspecs,shufflesin.Hehoversoverthekitchencounter,
fussingwiththeespressomaker,fillingitwithwaterandcoffeeand
settingitonaflame,andthensitsdowntoabowlofcerealwith
JasperandDaisy.
"Daisy,"hesays."Yourhoseattackwasbrilliant,butI'mgoingto
getyouforit.Watchyourback."
Shecranesherneck."Ican'tseeit."
Nicsays,"Iloveyou,youwacko."
SoonafterDaisyandJasperleaveforschool,ahalf-dozenwomen
arrivetohelpKarenmakeagoing-awaygiftforabelovedteacher.
Theybejewelaconcretebirdbathwithseashells,polishedstones,and
handmade(bystudents)tiles.Astheywork,theychatandsiptea.
Ihideinmyoffice.
Thewomenaretakingalunchbreakintheopenkitchen.Oneof
themothershasbroughtChinesechickensalad.Nic,whohadgone
backtosleep,emergesfromhisbedroom,shakingofhisgrogginess
andgreetingthewomen.Hepolitelyanswerstheirquestions—once
again,aboutcollegeandhissummerplans—andthenexcuses
himself,sayingthathe'sofftoajobinterview.
Afterheleaves,Ihearthemotherstalkingabouthim."Whata
lovelyboy."
"He'sdelightful."
Onecommentsonhisgoodmanners."You'reverylucky,"shetells
Karen."Ourteenagesonsortofgrunts.Otherwisehenevergivesus
thetimeofday."
Inacouplehours,Nicreturnstoaquiethouse—themosaicing
mothershavegonehome.Hegotthejob.Tomorrowhegoesinfor
trainingasawaiteratanItalianrestaurant.Thoughheisaghastatthe
requireduniform,includingstiffblackshoesandaburgundyvest,he
wastoldthathewillmakepilesofmoneyintips.
Thefollowingafternoon,afterthetrainingsession,Nicpractices
onus,drawinghischaracterfromthewaiterinoneofhismemorized
videos,LadyandtheTramp.Wearesittingdownfordinner.Withone
handaloft,balancinganimaginarytray,heenters,singinginalilting
Italianaccent,"Oh,thisisthenight,it'sabeautifulnight,andwecall
itbellanotte."
Afterdinner,NicasksifhecanborrowthecartogotoanAA
meeting.Aftermissedcurfewsandassortedotherinfractions,
includingbangingupbothofourcars(efficientlydoingitinone
accident,drivingoneintotheother),bylastsummerhehadlost
drivingprivileges,butthisrequestseemsreasonable—AAmeetings
areanessentialcomponentofhiscontinuedrecovery—andsowe
agree.Heheadsoutinthestationwagon,stilldentedfromtheearlier
mishap.Thenhedutifullyreturnshomeafterthemeeting,tellingus
thatheaskedsomeonehemettobehissponsorwhilehe'sintown.
Thenextdayherequeststhecaragain,thistimesohecanmeet
thesponsorforlunch.OfcourseIlethim.Iamimpressedbyhis
assiduousnessandhisadherencetotheruleswehavesetdown.He
letsusknowwherehe'sgoingandwhenhewillbehome.Hearrives
whenhepromiseshewill.Onceagain,heisgoneforabriefcouple
hours.
Thefollowinglateafternoonafireburnsinthelivingroom
fireplace.Sittingonthetwincouches,Karen,Nic,andIreadwhile
nearby,onthefadedrug,JasperandDaisyplaywithLegopeople.
Lookingupfromagnome,DaisytellsNicabouta"meanypotato
head"boywhopushedherfriendAlana.Nicsaysthathewillcometo
schoolandmakehima"mashedmeanypotatohead."
IamsurprisedtohearNicquietlysnoringawhilelater,butata
quartertoseven,heawakenswithastart.Checkinghiswatch,he
jumpsupandsays,"Ialmostmissedthemeeting,"andonceagain
asksifhecanborrowthecar.
Iampleasedthatthoughhe'sexhaustedandwouldhavebeen
contenttosleepforthenight,heiscommittedtotheworkof
recovery,committedenoughtorousehimself,splashhisfacewith
waterinthebathroomsink,brushhishairoutofhiseyeswithhis
fingers,throwonacleanT-shirt,andraceoutofthehousesothathe
willbeontime.
It'safterelevenandNicisn'thome.Ihadbeensotired,butnowI'm
wideawakeinbed,feelingmoreandmoreuneasy.Thereareamillion
harmlessexplanations.Often,groupsofpeopleatAAmeetingsgoout
afterwardforcoffee.Orhecouldbetalkingwithhisnewsponsor.I
contendwithtwosimultaneous,opposingmonologues,onereassuring
methatI'mfoolishandparanoid,theothercertainthatsomethingis
dreadfullywrong.BynowIknowthatworryisuseless,butitshoots
inandtakesovermybodyatthetouchofahairtrigger.Idon'twant
toassumetheworst,butsomeofthetimesNicignoredhiscurfew,it
presageddisaster.
Istareintothedark,myanxietymounting.Itisapathetically
familiarstate.IhavebeenwaitingforNicforyears.Atnight,pasthis
curfew,Iwouldwaitforthecar'sgrindingengine,whenitpulledinto
thedrivewayandthenwentsilent.Atlast—Nic.Theshuttingcar
door,footsteps,thefrontdooropeningwithaclick.DespiteNic's
attemptatstealth,Brutus,ourchocolateLab,usuallyyelpeda
halfheartedbark.OrIwouldwaitforthetelephonetoring,never
certainifitwouldbehim("Hey,Pop,how'reyadoin'?")orthepolice
("Mr.Sheff,wehaveyourson").Wheneverhewaslateorfailedto
call,Iassumedcatastrophe.Hewasdead.Alwaysdead.
ButthenNicwouldarrivehome,creepingupthehallwaystairs,
hishandslidingalongthebanister.Orthetelephonewouldring.
"Sorry,Pop,I'matRichard'shouse.Ifellasleep.IthinkI'lljustcrash
hereratherthandriveatthishour.I'llseeyouinthemorning.Ilove
you."Iwouldbefuriousandrelieved,both,becauseIhadalready
buriedhim.
Latethisnight,withnosignofhim,Ifinallyfallintoamiserable
half-sleep.Justafterone,Karenwakesme.Shehearshimsneakingin.
Agardenlight,equippedwithamotiondetector,flasheson,casting
itswhitebeamacrossthebackyard.Cladinmypajamas,Islipona
pairofshoesandgooutthebackdoortocatchhim.
Thenightairischilly.Ihearcrunchingbrush.
Iturnthecornerandcomehead-to-headwithanenormousstartled
buck,whoquicklylopesawayupintothegarden,effortlesslyleaping
overthedeerfence.
Backinbed,KarenandIarewideawake.
It'sone-thirty.Nowtwo.Idoublecheckhisroom.
Itistwo-thirty.
Atlast,thesoundofthecar.
IconfrontNicinthekitchenandhemumblesanexcuse.Itellhim
thathecannolongerusethecar.
"Whatever."
"Areyouhigh?Tellme."
"Jesus.No."
