A bird let out a very long call. My heart pounded. You haven’t heard from me? I wanted to say. You’re the one who doesn’t answer your phone! ‘N-Nothing,’ I stammered, stunned. There was a tinny buzzing in my head where thoughts should have been.
‘You seem different,’ he said, cocking his head to the right. ‘I’m not sure how, but you do.’
I blinked, flummoxed. I seemed different? And I wondered if I somehow did seem different to him. ‘Is it because of that guy you’re dating?’ he went on, almost sounding hopeful. ‘Alex?’
Alex? My heart sank; my father and I really didn’t talk. Alex and I had fallen into a pattern with which I was mostly unfamiliar but pretended as best as I could that I’d had plenty of practice. He took me out to eat and to the movies, always paying. Things hadn’t moved too quickly or too slowly, but rather followed a very proper timetable, as if he’d read about when to do what in some sort of manual.
But I knew my relationship with him wasn’t going anywhere. One night, while we were lying in bed, he’d propped himself up on his elbows and told me he loved me. It was like he’d flung himself from a tall tower. His face was flushed, his pupils huge. He asked me if I loved him back, but I couldn’t say anything. I just stared, dumbstruck. How could he love me? What had I done that was so incredible? I wanted to say that I loved him, too, but I knew I didn’t mean it, so the words wouldn’t come. I wasn’t sure if I was equipped to love anyone.
Moreover, Alex knew nothing about me-I’d told him nothing about my mother leaving, my father’s condition. It was amazing, actually, that he didn’t know, considering that Dr Hughes had ties with the office and had probably said something to someone there. But he believed what I told him-my father lived across the country, and we didn’t speak.
I poked my finger into the chicken wire. ‘You seem different, too,’ I said, my voice a childish whine.
My father stretched his arms to the sky. ‘I guess I am different. I feel pretty great. Better than I’ve felt in a long time.’
‘You…do?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve been seeing a great new doctor. His name is Walter, and he’s a million times better than anyone else I’ve seen. I feel so much…clearer.’
I hadn’t been told he was seeing a new doctor. ‘You call the doctor by his first name?’
‘He asks that we do. And I’ve been on meds I haven’t had to change for months. It’s like, after all these years, I finally got the right combination. I feel like I’ve finally emerged from a cave. I’ve even thought about leaving here soon.’
‘You mean to come back to Brooklyn?’
One corner of his mouth curled up. ‘It’s where I live.’
I stared at him for a few long seconds, silent.
He crossed his arms over his chest, still smiling. ‘Don’t act so ecstatic.’
‘No, I mean, I’m happy,’ I said quickly. ‘Of course I’m happy. It’s wonderful that you’re feeling better. But, I mean, are you sure?’
I wanted to ask him if he was thinking of leaving soon. What would he do, back in Brooklyn? Would he try to find a job?
He gazed out at the farmland beyond Merewether’s splitrail fence. ‘You know I’ll always love you.’
I started up. ‘I love you, too.’
There was a pause, and then he said, ‘The accident I got in years ago. I told you about the girl that died, right? Kay? We saw her grave in Cobalt?’
I rubbed my eyes. ‘Yeah. Sure.’
He stared off at the woods. ‘She was in a coma for weeks after the accident. They kept her alive, but not because they thought she’d live. Because…she was pregnant.’
Far off, a car door slammed. A few birds took off from a nearby tree. ‘She was pregnant?’ I repeated.
‘It was unthinkable, really. They knew she was going to die, but they also found out she was pregnant. They wanted to see if they could save the child.’
‘Were you there?’
‘Well…no.’
‘Why not?’
‘Her fiancé was there. Her family.’
‘But you were her friend. You didn’t see her?’
He took a sip of water and stared at the outdoor thermometer, mounted on a post next to the house. ‘No.’
I tried to process this, to make sense of why he’d chosen this moment to tell me. ‘So I guess the baby died?’ I asked. I tried to remember if I’d seen a smaller headstone beside Kay’s. I couldn’t remember one, but then, I hadn’t been looking.
‘What?’ my father asked.
‘The baby. It died, right?’