picnic.’
I grabbed the both of them and let out a victory holler. We ambled arm in arm down the hill to the small stone winery to celebrate. Despite the fact that now we had to talk numbers.
Lucy poured wine. We toasted to terroir, to Life’s a Picnic. I told them about my life insurance problem. I also explained just how bad I thought the store’s financial situation was. I could see them both not gasping as if their lives depended on it. Lucy poured more wine. David drummed his fingers and made a ticking sound with his tongue – a habit of his whenever he was thinking something through. I usually only noticed it when we were on the phone, but at that point in the evening David’s tongue ticking was the only sound in the room.
Finally he said, ‘Let me break the news gently to the folks, about the store and about the insurance. I know why Joe didn’t fess up to Dad.’ He seemed far away. ‘Because he was always trying to make him and Grandpa proud. We both were. Even me with my desperate lack of Italian machismo. My dad seems to still desperately need that . . . pride in the store, pride in his father, pride in us.’ His eyes filled and he stood up. ‘In his two sons.’
Chapter Eleven
The next morning while I washed dishes, I felt a tug on the leg of my jeans and looked down to see Zach staring up at me, sucking his thumb and holding Bubby, rubbing the turquoise satin of the bunny ears on his cheek.
‘What, honey?’
He started swatting Bubby against the kitchen drawers. I turned off the water and knelt down. ‘What is it, Zachosaurus?’
He sighed. ‘When is Daddy coming home?’
‘Oh, honey.’ I hugged him. ‘Daddy died. Remember? Daddy’s not coming home.’
‘I know. But when is he coming back ?’
‘He’s not coming back.’
‘When I’m a big boy?’
I shook my head. ‘No. Not when you’re a big boy.’
‘That mama lady came back.’
‘She did. But she didn’t die. She just lives somewhere else and came to visit. Do you understand the difference?’
He nodded and sighed again. ‘Can I have a oatmeal bar? A whole one?’
‘Sure. But do you understand about Daddy?’
He started flipping Bubby up and down and doing a silly dance, saying ‘Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh! And some milk. Pleeeeeeeze.’
The now familiar uh-huh song, which had started shortly after Joe died, seemed to be Zach’s way of saying that he was done talking for the time being. He was three and having trouble understanding. Hell, I was thirty-five and still didn’t get it some days. But I wished I knew how to help him.
Later that afternoon, Paige called and said something that shocked me, her words like big flashing signs emerging from the fog, finally telling me where we were headed if we continued down that road. She would often call to speak to Annie. I’d wanted to question Paige, but I could never get out the words; I always felt a physical barrier, as if something lay lodged in my throat, blocking any questions that carried the possibility of ruining our world. But that day when she called, I took a deep breath and squeezed out some words, asking her what her intentions were. I sounded like some grumpy father questioning a teenage boy about dating his daughter, which hadn’t been my intention, but my own anxiety clamouring out.
‘My intentions?’ Paige asked. ‘I beg your pardon? I’m Annie’s mother. And I would like to speak to my daughter.’
I took another deep breath. ‘Yes, I understand that you gave birth to Annie. But you’ve been gone a long time, and Paige, I’m just worried about Annie getting hurt.’
‘Really? If you’re so worried about hurting Annie, perhaps you should be more careful when you drive so you don’t almost cause a car accident and then scream obscenities at my children.’
I opened my mouth. No words would come out, but my heart beat so loudly, she could probably hear it echoing up through my throat.
She continued. ‘Please put Annie
I grabbed the both of them and let out a victory holler. We ambled arm in arm down the hill to the small stone winery to celebrate. Despite the fact that now we had to talk numbers.
Lucy poured wine. We toasted to terroir, to Life’s a Picnic. I told them about my life insurance problem. I also explained just how bad I thought the store’s financial situation was. I could see them both not gasping as if their lives depended on it. Lucy poured more wine. David drummed his fingers and made a ticking sound with his tongue – a habit of his whenever he was thinking something through. I usually only noticed it when we were on the phone, but at that point in the evening David’s tongue ticking was the only sound in the room.
Finally he said, ‘Let me break the news gently to the folks, about the store and about the insurance. I know why Joe didn’t fess up to Dad.’ He seemed far away. ‘Because he was always trying to make him and Grandpa proud. We both were. Even me with my desperate lack of Italian machismo. My dad seems to still desperately need that . . . pride in the store, pride in his father, pride in us.’ His eyes filled and he stood up. ‘In his two sons.’
Chapter Eleven
The next morning while I washed dishes, I felt a tug on the leg of my jeans and looked down to see Zach staring up at me, sucking his thumb and holding Bubby, rubbing the turquoise satin of the bunny ears on his cheek.
‘What, honey?’
He started swatting Bubby against the kitchen drawers. I turned off the water and knelt down. ‘What is it, Zachosaurus?’
He sighed. ‘When is Daddy coming home?’
‘Oh, honey.’ I hugged him. ‘Daddy died. Remember? Daddy’s not coming home.’
‘I know. But when is he coming back ?’
‘He’s not coming back.’
‘When I’m a big boy?’
I shook my head. ‘No. Not when you’re a big boy.’
‘That mama lady came back.’
‘She did. But she didn’t die. She just lives somewhere else and came to visit. Do you understand the difference?’
He nodded and sighed again. ‘Can I have a oatmeal bar? A whole one?’
‘Sure. But do you understand about Daddy?’
He started flipping Bubby up and down and doing a silly dance, saying ‘Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh! And some milk. Pleeeeeeeze.’
The now familiar uh-huh song, which had started shortly after Joe died, seemed to be Zach’s way of saying that he was done talking for the time being. He was three and having trouble understanding. Hell, I was thirty-five and still didn’t get it some days. But I wished I knew how to help him.
Later that afternoon, Paige called and said something that shocked me, her words like big flashing signs emerging from the fog, finally telling me where we were headed if we continued down that road. She would often call to speak to Annie. I’d wanted to question Paige, but I could never get out the words; I always felt a physical barrier, as if something lay lodged in my throat, blocking any questions that carried the possibility of ruining our world. But that day when she called, I took a deep breath and squeezed out some words, asking her what her intentions were. I sounded like some grumpy father questioning a teenage boy about dating his daughter, which hadn’t been my intention, but my own anxiety clamouring out.
‘My intentions?’ Paige asked. ‘I beg your pardon? I’m Annie’s mother. And I would like to speak to my daughter.’
I took another deep breath. ‘Yes, I understand that you gave birth to Annie. But you’ve been gone a long time, and Paige, I’m just worried about Annie getting hurt.’
‘Really? If you’re so worried about hurting Annie, perhaps you should be more careful when you drive so you don’t almost cause a car accident and then scream obscenities at my children.’
I opened my mouth. No words would come out, but my heart beat so loudly, she could probably hear it echoing up through my throat.
She continued. ‘Please put Annie
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