“We have to bring this back next week so that I can paint it,” London told me. “I want to paint yellow flowers on it. And maybe some pink mouses.”
“Mouses?”
“Or a hamster. But hamsters are harder to paint.”
I had no idea why that would be, but what do I know?
“Okay. Flowers and mouses,” I said.
“Pink mouses.”
“Even better,” I agreed. “Are you ready to head to Nana’s?”
I helped her into the car, knowing that it was time to tell my parents that Vivian had left me. Because Marge wanted to stay with me while I shared the news, Liz took it upon herself to take a walk with London. I called my father in from the garage, and he took a seat next to my mom.
I spilled it all in a single rush of words. When I finished, it was my dad who responded first. “She can’t leave.” He frowned. “She’s got a kid.”
“I should call her,” my mom interjected. “She’s probably going through a phase.”
“It’s not a phase. She told me she was in love with him. She’s got her own place now.”
“When is she coming back?” my mom asked. “If she comes next weekend, your dad and I will be out of town. We’re going to visit your uncle Joe in Winston-Salem. It’s his birthday.”
My dad’s younger brother by a couple of years, Joe was a mechanic who’d never married but had, over the years, gone through one long-term girlfriend after the next. Growing up, he was the cool uncle, and I can remember wondering why he’d never married. Now, I suspected he might have been onto something.
“I don’t have any idea when she’s coming back,” I answered.
“The work must have been too stressful,” my mom said. “She’s not thinking right.”
“How is she going to see London?” my dad asked.
“I don’t know, Dad.”
“Doesn’t she want to see London?” my dad pressed.
“I should really call her,” my mom fretted.
“You’re not going to call her, Mom,” Marge said. “This is their business. I’m sure that Vivian will be back to see London. And even though she hasn’t told Russ when that might be, I’d guess it’ll be within the next week or so. In the meantime, it’s probably not the best time to pepper Russ with a ton of questions or to start making plans. As you can imagine, it’s been a pretty rough week for him.”
“You’re right,” my mom suddenly said. “I’m sorry. It’s just such a shock, you know?”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I said. I watched my dad rise from the couch and walk to the kitchen.
“How are you holding up?” my mom asked.
I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“Is there anything I can do? Do you need help with London?”
“No,” I said. “I’m doing okay with that. It’s not so hard, now that she’s in school.”
“Why don’t I bring over some dinners for the week? Would that help?”
I knew she felt like she needed to do something. “That would be great,” I said. “London likes your cooking a lot more than she likes mine.”
I felt a tap of cold glass against my shoulder. My dad had a beer in each hand and was holding one out. “For you,” he said. “I’m in the garage if you want to talk.”
When I wandered out to the garage twenty minutes later, my dad motioned for me to sit on a stool while he took a seat on a toolbox. I’d brought out a second beer for both of us; there was something on my mind – something I hadn’t mentioned to either Marge or Liz – and I wanted his perspective.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said.
“Do what?”
“Be a single father. Take care of London. Maybe it would be better if London went to live with Vivian in Atlanta.”
He cracked open the beer I’d brought him. “I take it you want me to tell you that I’m in agreement with you.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“That’s not your real problem. Your real problem is that you’re afraid.”
“Of course I’m afraid.”
“That’s what parenting is all about. Doing the best you can while being terrified of screwing up. Kids can turn hair gray faster than anything else, if you ask me.”
“You and Mom weren’t afraid.”
“Of course we were. We just never let on, is all.”
I wondered whether that was true. “Do you think I should fight for London like Marge said? If it comes to that?”
My dad scratched at the jeans he was wearing, leaving a streak of grease. “I think you’re a damn good father, Russ. Better than I ever was, that’s for sure. And I think London needs you.”
“She needs her mom, too.”
“Maybe. But the way you’ve been taking care of her? I know it wasn’t easy, but you just got up and did it, and she’s a happy little girl. And that’s what being a dad is all about. You do what needs to be done and love your kid the best way you can. You’ve been doing that and I’m real proud of you.” He paused. “Anyway, that’s what I think.”
I tried to recall whether he’d ever said anything like that to me before but knew that he hadn’t.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re not going to cry are you?”
Despite everything, I laughed. “I don’t know, Dad.”