“I'm going to miss you guys, take care,” he said as he got into the car again.
“We will.” Page smiled. She should have been used to his leaving by then, but she wasn't. It was easier when he left on Sunday night. She expected that, but this way she felt cheated. She had wanted more time with him, and now he'd be gone. Besides, as much as he traveled, it was impossible not to think of the dangers. What if something happened to him one day? What if …she knew she'd never live through it. “Take care …” she whispered as she leaned into the window of the front seat and kissed him, thinking that she should have taken him to the airport. But he liked having his car there when he got home. And on Tuesday night it would have been complicated for her to pick him up, so this was simpler. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said softly, and then leaned around her to wave at Andy again. She stepped back, and they waved, and he drove off. It was exactly five minutes to seven.
They went back into the house, hand in hand, and she felt lonely again, but tried not to. It was stupid. She was a grown woman, she didn't have to be that dependent on him. And he would be back in three days. You'd think he'd be gone for a month from the way she was feeling.
Allyson was ready by then, and she looked really lovely. She had on the tiniest bit of mascara, and a pale pink gloss on her lips that barely shimmered. She looked clean and healthy and young. Youth at its most exquisite moment. She was the same age as the models they put on the cover of Vogue, and in some ways, Page thought, she looked better than they did.
“Have a good time, sweetheart. And I'd like you home by eleven.” It was an ordinary curfew, and Page was always firm about it.
“Mom!”
“Never mind that. Eleven is perfectly reasonable, and you know it.” She had just turned fifteen, and Page didn't see why she had to stay out any later.
“What if the movie gets out later than that?”
“Eleven-thirty then. Any later than eleven-thirty, forget the movie.”
“Thanks a lot!”
“You're welcome. Do you want a ride to Chloe's?”
“No, thanks, I'll walk. See you later.” She slipped out of the house, while Page went to get her sweater and her handbag out of their bedroom. The phone rang as she picked up her bag. It was her mother in New York. She explained that she and Andy were on their way out to dinner, and she'd call her back the next day. And by the time Page and Andy got back in the car, with their things, Allyson was long gone, and had probably already reached Chloe's.
“Well, young man, what'll it be? Domino's or Shakey's?”
“Domino's. We went to Shakey's last time.”
“Sounds fair to me.” Page flipped on the radio in the car, and let Andy pick the music. He picked the rock-and-roll station that he knew Allyson liked. He had very odd musical tastes for a seven-year-old boy, and he got them mostly from his older sister.
They got to the restaurant in five minutes, and Page felt better by then. Her moment of melancholy was gone, and she and Andy had a good time. They always did when they were together. He told her about all his friends, and what they did in school, and he explained to her how when he grew up he had decided to be a teacher. When she asked him why, he said it was because he liked taking care of little kids, and he liked the long summer vacations.
“Or maybe I'll be a baseball star, for the Giants or the Mets.”
“That would be nice too.” She smiled, he was always fun and easy to be with.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you an artist?”
“More or less. I used to be, but I don't do it very seriously anymore. I haven't in a long time.” He nodded, thinking about it.
“I like the mural you did at school.”
“I'm glad. I like it too. It was fun to do. I think I'm going to do another one.” He seemed pleased, and when they finished their pizza, he paid for them, and left the amount for the tip that she told him to. Then he put an arm around her waist and they walked back to the station wagon parked outside.
Ten minutes later, they were home, and after his bath, he joined her in her bed to watch TV. Eventually, she let him fall asleep in her bed, and smiled as she tucked him in and kissed him. At seven he was already a big boy, but he was still her baby, and always would be. In her own way, Allyson was still her baby too. Maybe children always are, at any age. She smiled, thinking of her, in the borrowed pink cashmere, and how pretty she looked when she left to have dinner with the Thorensens.
Page thought of Brad then too. And when she checked for messages on the machine, she discovered that he had called her from the airport. He had probably known they would be out, but he had just called to tell her he loved her.