“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Frank.”
“Remember when she first got the paper route, and she said she had to swerve onto the Nedelhafts’ lawn because some guy driving a big green car with a star on the front went up onto the sidewalk? You told me to let it go, and I did. I let it go.”
The words were spilling out faster and faster, soon he’d be spitting them if he didn’t get control of himself. What Elaine didn’t understand was that sometimes he had to shout to be heard. With her, at least.
“The car that took out Judge Silver’s cat was also a big green car with a star on the front. A Mercedes. I was pretty sure I knew who it belonged to when Nana had her close call—”
“Frank, she said it swerved onto the sidewalk half a block down!”
“Maybe so, or maybe it was closer and she didn’t want to scare us. Didn’t want us to take away her paper route right after she got it. Just listen, okay? I let it go. I’d seen that Mercedes around the neighborhood many times, but I let it go.” How many times had he said that? And why did it remind him of that song from Frozen, the one Nana had gone around singing until he’d been quite sure it would drive him mad? He was clutching the can of stout so hard he’d dented it, and if he didn’t stop, he’d pop it wide open. “But not this time. Not after he ran over Cocoa.”
“Who’s—”
“Cocoa! Cocoa, Judge Silver’s cat! That could have been my kid, Elaine! Our kid! Long story short, that Mercedes belongs to Garth Flickinger, right up the hill.”
“The doctor?” Elaine sounded engaged. At last.
“That’s him. And when I talked to him, guess what? He was high, Elaine. I’m almost positive. He could barely form sentences.”
“Instead of reporting him to the police, you went to his house? Like you went to Nana’s school that time and shouted at her teacher when all the kids—including your daughter—could hear you ranting like a crazy person?”
Go ahead, drag it up, Frank thought, clenching the can harder. You always do. That, or the famous wall punch, or the time I told your father he was full of shit. Drag it up, drag it out, Elaine Nutting Geary’s Greatest Hits. When I’m in my coffin you’ll be telling somebody about the time I hollered at Nana’s second grade teacher after she made fun of Nana’s science project and made my daughter cry in her room. And when that one gets tired, you can reminisce about the time I yelled at Mrs. Fenton for spraying her weed killer where my daughter had to breathe it in while she was riding her trike. Fine. Make me the bad guy if that’s what gets you through the day. But right now I will keep my voice calm and level. Because I can’t afford to let you push my buttons this time, Elaine. Somebody has to watch out for our daughter, and it’s pretty clear you’re not up to the job.
“It was my duty as a father.” Did that sound pompous? Frank didn’t care. “I have no interest in seeing him arrested on a misdemeanor charge of feline hit-and-run, but I do have an interest in making sure he doesn’t run down Nana. If scaring him a little accomplished that—”
“Tell me you didn’t go all Charles Bronson.”
“No, I was very reasonable with him.” That was at least close to true. It was the car he hadn’t been reasonable with. But he was sure a hot-shit doc like Flickinger had mucho insurance.
“Frank,” she said.
“What?”
“I hardly know where to start. Maybe with the question you didn’t ask when you saw Nana drawing in the driveway.”
“What? What question?”
“?‘Why are you home from school, honey?’ That question.”
Not in school. Maybe that was what had been nagging at him.
“It was so sunny this morning, I just—seemed like summer, you know? I forgot it was May.”
“You have got your head so far the wrong way around, Frank. You’re so concerned about your daughter’s safety, and yet you can’t even remember that it’s the school year. Think about that. Haven’t you noticed the homework she does at your house? You know, those notebooks she writes in, and the textbooks she reads? With God and His only son Jesus as my witness—”
He was willing to take a lot—and he was willing to admit he maybe deserved some—but Frank drew the line with the Jesus-as-my-witness shit. God’s only son wasn’t the one who had gotten that raccoon out from under the Episcopalian church all those years ago and nailed the board over the hole, and He didn’t put clothes on Nana’s back or food in her stomach. Not to mention Elaine’s. Frank did those things and there had been no magic to it.
“Cut to the chase, Elaine.”
“You don’t know what’s going on with anyone but yourself. It’s all about what’s pissing Frank off today. It’s all about who doesn’t understand that only Frank knows how to do things right. Because those are your default positions.”
I can take it. I can take it I can take it I can take it but oh God Elaine what a high-riding bitch you can be when you set your mind to it.
“Was she sick?”
“Oh, now you’re all Red Alert.”
“Was she? Is she? Because she looked all right.”
“She’s fine. I kept her home because she got her period. Her first period.”
Frank was thunderstruck.
“She was upset and a little scared, even though I’d explained all about what was going to happen last year. And ashamed, too, because she got some blood on the sheets. For a first period, it was pretty heavy.”
“She can’t be . . .” For a moment the word stuck in his throat. He had to cough it out like a bite of food that had gone down wrong. “She can’t be menstruating! She’s twelve, for Christ’s sake!”
“Did you think she was going to stay your little princess in fairy wings and sparkly boots forever?”
“No, but . . . twelve?”
“I started when I was eleven. And that’s not the point, Frank. Here’s the point. Your daughter was crampy and confused and low-spirited. She was drawing in the driveway because that’s a thing that always cheers her up, and here comes her daddy, all riled up, bellowing—”
“I was not bellowing!” That was when the can of Miner’s Daughter finally gave way. Foam ran down his fisted hand and pattered to the floor.
“—bellowing and yanking her shirt, her favorite shirt—”
He was appalled to feel the prickle of tears. He had cried several times since the separation, but never while actually talking to Elaine. Deep down he was afraid she would seize any weakness he showed, turn it into a crowbar, pry him wide open, and eat his heart. His tender heart.
“I was scared for her. Don’t you understand that? Flickinger is a drunk or a doper or both, he’s got a big car, and he killed Judge Silver’s cat. I was afraid for her. I had to take action. I had to.”
“You behave like you’re the only person who ever feared for a child, but you’re not. I fear for her, and you’re the main thing that makes me afraid.”
He was silent. What she’d just said was almost too monstrous to comprehend.