“Lu, I’m going to be a very hands-on father.”
“Uh-huh.” Maybe he will be, this ridiculously rich man who has never known a single failure in his life, who can’t fail despite himself. Yes, maybe this man, raised in a household in which his widowered father did not know how to do a single domestic task, would be superdad. Lu owes him the benefit of the doubt. She guesses.
“You’ll be tired. You can’t believe how tired you’ll be. And you’ll have to fight so hard for those bits of alone time that aren’t absolutely essential. Imagine being in the house on a fine spring night. The children are asleep. Finally. The air is soft and it carries the scent of whatever those blooming trees are. And Five Guys is still open at the mall! But you can’t go anywhere. Oh, wait—that’s my life. Without a partner. You’ll have Lauranne.”
“You have Dad, Lu.”
“Would you leave Dad in charge of young children?”
“He’s fine, I’m telling you. Really, have you seen any evidence that his memory or intellect is diminished?”
She thinks about this. “No. But he’s not—a caretaker. Never was. He was a loving father, AJ. He did his best by us. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone. But did he ever throw a ball with you? Did he even bother to learn how to brush my hair? No, he just took me to the barbershop until I was almost nine.” At which point, she grew out her hair and wears it long to this day, despite the advice in women’s magazines that the style is aging. Her hair, loose, reaches almost to the small of her back. But it is seldom down in public. She wears it in a French knot, which helps make her look more authoritative. The first thing Bash does when she comes into their room is yank the pins from her hair.
“You know, maybe you should go on match.com. Or one of those places.” It’s as if AJ is misreading her mind.
“No. Thank. You. I don’t have anything leftover to give. When the kids go off to college, I’ll start stalking old men.”
“When your kids go off to college, you’ll be two years older than I am right now.”
“Like I said—old men.” She smiles at him, pats his hand. They are not touchers. The Brants do not hug upon coming and going. So this is a big gesture on her part. “If you do this, you’ll be a great dad. Costs an arm and a leg, but you can afford it.”
“Yeah, I can buy anything I want.”
The self-pity on you, she thinks, but doesn’t say.
TO EACH HIS SANCHO PANZA
In the spring of 1978, the all-county musical was Man of La Mancha. That is, the show was theoretically open to students throughout the county, yet the leads were taken by Davey, AJ, and Ariel, with Noel snagging one of the key supporting roles. There was some grumbling, but the director had no link to Wilde Lake High School, so the disgruntled parents had no reason to complain. If anyone deserved to be unhappy, it was Noel, who lost the role of Sancho Panza to AJ, who never played the clown. But the director glimpsed an untapped comedic talent in AJ’s earnestness and wanted to exploit his chemistry with Davey, the inevitable Quixote, even if he had to be coaxed into trying out. AJ, instead of playing this second banana role with wink-wink self-consciousness, approached Sancho as achingly sincere in his hero worship of Quixote. He did not avail himself of any curlicues of irony, not so much as a raised eyebrow to let the audience know he was in on the joke. He was his master’s servant to the end.
If Noel was disappointed not to be given the showy part that everyone assumed would be his, he hid it well. Maybe he enjoyed having a chance to play it straight. And he was wonderful as the padre, especially when he sang the tender ballad, “To Each His Dulcinea.” I attended the final performance, a Sunday matinee, and surprised myself by weeping over Davey/ Quixote’s death. I then asked my father what, exactly, the muleteers did to Aldonza while singing “Little Bird.” They appeared to be beating her. Why were they beating her?