“I said that it made me feel old, the way they’re talking about Anakin Skywalker, and I can only remember Luke Skywalker,” Audra said.
“Oh, well, now, Anakin—” Clayton began from the back.
“It’s okay,” Audra said hastily. “I don’t need to know.”
The traffic and the conversation were making Graham’s head ache, but then suddenly they were out of the city and on I-95 and the day was beautiful and the trees along the highway were as red and gaudy as candy apples. The hum of tires on the highway seemed to make both Matthew and Clayton sleepy, and their conversation dwindled to sporadic half sentences like, “But if Cloud City is on Bespin…”
Audra put in a Leo Kottke CD, nice and soft and gentle. If it weren’t for the piece of paper with the phone number on it in his pocket, Graham would have been almost happy.
—
As soon as they got to the hotel, Matthew and Clayton went off to look at the model menus set up in the conference rooms, and Graham and Audra waited in line in the lobby to check in. Audra was carrying her overnight bag with both hands and leaned back slightly to balance the weight, bouncing it against her knees.
“What I don’t understand about origami,” she said to Graham in her normal speaking voice, “is why can’t anyone like it a little bit? Why aren’t there nice, well-rounded people who enjoy a bit of origami, the way there are nice, well-rounded people who enjoy a bit of bondage?”
It seemed to Graham that a silence spread out from them, like ripples from a pebble thrown into a pond. But with this crowd, it was hard to imagine whether they were more offended by her first sentence or by her second.
Audra continued, oblivious. “I mean, it’s like miniature trains or dog shows. It takes over people’s lives and they end up going to conventions. It’s not like, you know, gardening or sailing or something you just have as a hobby.”
Like bondage, Graham was sure the rest of the lobby mentally added.
A portly Asian man in line in front of them turned around. “I take it you don’t fold,” he said stiffly to Audra.
She gave him her friendliest smile. “No, I don’t.”
“Then why are you here?” he asked.
“We’re here because we love our son,” Audra said in a bold, preachy tone Graham had never heard her use before. Then she looked thoughtful and added in her usual voice. “Plus, we didn’t want to be outdone by the Bergmans.”
“And your son,” the Asian man continued, “is he passionate about origami?”
“It’s pretty much a way of life for him,” Audra said. “But we’re hoping he’ll outgrow it.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Audra Daltry.”
The man shook her hand. “I am Li.”
“The Amazing Li!” Audra exclaimed. “You teach the class where they fold the praying mantis! Matthew can’t wait.”
It was remarkable, Graham thought, that even origami geeks were susceptible to pretty women flattering them. It was kind of comforting, actually. It gave him hope for Matthew.
There were only five people in line ahead of the Amazing Li, but by the time Li reached the front desk, Audra had found out that he had once broken both wrists in a tree-climbing accident and thought he’d go crazy not doing origami for six weeks, and that he was having trouble finding a girl his parents would approve of because they were so old-fashioned and, well, Chinese, and that he really disliked the taste of canned soups, chicken noodle in particular.
Graham had often wondered how Audra got people to tell her everything about themselves so quickly. Once he had asked her and she’d said vaguely, “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I think life is too short for all that crap about ‘Where are you from?’ and ‘Do you play the zither?’?”
The zither! On what planet was “Do you play the zither?” considered normal small talk? But no matter. What mattered was who Jasper was, and all the things Audra no doubt knew about him.
—
Graham took Matthew to his first class: the F-16 Fighting Falcon. The man teaching the class called himself Captain Jim, and he fit the part: tall, imposing, silver crew cut, solid jaw, commanding voice. But Graham wondered whether he was actually a retired Air Force captain who had figured out how to fold an incredibly complicated design, or a crazy origami person who figured out the design and then adopted the military persona. Graham sighed. There were so many crazy people in origami.
Matthew had been allowed to attend the more advanced classes only if accompanied by an adult, but Graham knew that Matthew wouldn’t need any help. They sat at a table together and Matthew began folding along with Captain Jim’s instructions.
Graham read The Wall Street Journal and drank a cup of coffee and wondered what Audra was doing—had she noticed Jasper’s number was missing from her wallet? Even if she had never called Jasper, did she sometimes take that scrap of paper out and smooth it against the leg of her jeans? And then Captain Jim was standing at their table and admiring Matthew’s work.
“Well, look at this,” Captain Jim said in his authoritative voice, startling Graham. He picked up Matthew’s partially folded airplane and flexed it slightly, checking the folds. Then he looked sharply at Matthew. “How old are you?”
“Ten,” Matthew said. “Can I have my paper back?”
Captain Jim gave it to him. “It’s interesting,” he said. “You are two folds ahead of my instructions. How did you know what I was going to say?”
“I just knew,” Matthew said.
Captain Jim nodded. He didn’t seem to find Matthew’s answer odd, or care that Matthew didn’t want to discuss it. He looked at Graham and said, “He has very unusual ability.”
Graham smiled but said nothing. He thought, as he sometimes did, that Matthew’s origami ability was like a rampart they’d erected to shield them from the rest of the world, and Graham and Audra crouched behind it. People looked and saw only the handsome little boy with the unusual talent. They did not know of the struggles to teach Matthew to tie his shoes, or ride a bike, or try new foods, or wear clothes with scratchy tags, or have his toenails clipped, or understand sarcasm. They did not know that sometimes Graham would be willing to exchange all that origami talent for just a little sarcasm.
—
After class, they met Audra in the hotel coffee shop for lunch. Matthew was so dazed and dreamy that Graham had to keep reminding him to take bites. He practically had to remind him to chew and swallow.
When Audra asked Matthew how class was, he said, “Great!” and his face glowed with happiness but he didn’t elaborate. Audra glanced at Graham, looking amused, but she didn’t press. They knew how to handle Matthew by now, and when he was this overwhelmed by something, even overwhelmed in a good way, they let him be.