Read Online Baby Please Don't Go: A Novel by Frank Freudberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Frank Freudberg
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other.”
“Maybe for you it’s a pink cloud.”
“Maybe for you, too,” said Lock.
“Here we are,” she said. “I’m in my bed, propped up on four pillows, and there you are on your sofa—”
“I’m in the recliner.”
“—and I bet you have a fire going in your wood-burning stove.”
He got up to stoke the embers with a stick he took from a pile of kindling.
“You must have a nanny-cam on me.”
“Maybe I should install one. Make sure you behave when I’m not monopolizing your time.”
“You’re not monopolizing anything. You’re my priority when I’m home.”
“But not enough of a priority to meet?”
“Not going to happen. Not until your case is closed and you take care of the other stuff.”
“Get divorced, you mean.”
“Yeah. I’m not giving you an ultimatum or anything, but even after CPS makes a determination about your case, if Witt’s lawyer finds out we’re spending time together before the divorce is final, how’s that going to look?”
“You’ll never be able to resist me that long. I can be persuasive.”
Lock smiled at that. “I don’t know what gives you the impression I can be easily convinced, but I think you’re going to find out you’re wrong.”
“We’ll see.”
Later on, she asked him about growing up in Philadelphia. There was a lot he didn’t care to say about it, so he cast about for a good memory. “I told you about my dad. He was a grumpy man, even in his late thirties, and for most of my waking hours as a kid, he was sleeping it off. That’s the bulk of my memories of my father—sleeping with his mouth open.”
“Could have been worse,” Natalie said softly.
“I guess so. Most of my happy childhood recollections are of my mom. Great memories. No siblings, so I got all her attention. A few times, on a Sunday when she’d be off work, she’d tell my father we were going shopping for school clothes or something, but we’d actually drive down to the ocean, at Avalon. That’s where all the super-rich families vacationed, and we’d pretend we had a chauffeur drive us there. I’d call her Jeeves and she’d call me sir, and she’d laugh and we’d drive the whole way with all four windows down. When we’d start smelling the salt air, we knew we were almost there.”
Natalie said, “I suppose this is the time to mention Witt and I own a home on the beach in Avalon. I didn’t get to it once this summer. I kept making plans to go as a family, and Witt would reschedule at the last minute, and then summer was over.”
“That’s sad, having the house but not using it. It’s almost worse than not having the house,” Lock said. “My mom barely had enough spare money for gas and tolls. Sometimes she let me pay the tolls. I’d feel like a million bucks when she’d let me do that. Another time, on the boardwalk, I surprised her by pulling a ten-dollar bill out of my pocket—I’d earned it weeding a neighbor’s backyard garden the day before—and I insisted I buy her lunch. She let me, without putting up a fight. She was great that way. I had a hot dog and a Coke—real health food—and she ordered a grilled tuna and cheese and a glass of water. I guess she asked for water to try to keep the bill down. She told me it was the best sandwich she’d ever eaten in her entire life.”
“I can guarantee she was telling you the truth,” Natalie said.
“Yes,” he said, “she always told me the truth, and that taught me to as well. I don’t like lying, not even white lies.”
“What about a white lie to spare someone’s feelings?”
“I used to think it was unavoidable, but now I think it’s just better to tell the truth, or say nothing. I just try to be gentle about it.”
“You’re a rare human being then.”
“My father knew how to lie. He was good at it. He’d lie for no reason at all. If you’d ask him what time it was, he’d look at his watch and see it was 5:05. Then he’d tell you it was 5:06. Just deceitful
“Maybe for you it’s a pink cloud.”
“Maybe for you, too,” said Lock.
“Here we are,” she said. “I’m in my bed, propped up on four pillows, and there you are on your sofa—”
“I’m in the recliner.”
“—and I bet you have a fire going in your wood-burning stove.”
He got up to stoke the embers with a stick he took from a pile of kindling.
“You must have a nanny-cam on me.”
“Maybe I should install one. Make sure you behave when I’m not monopolizing your time.”
“You’re not monopolizing anything. You’re my priority when I’m home.”
“But not enough of a priority to meet?”
“Not going to happen. Not until your case is closed and you take care of the other stuff.”
“Get divorced, you mean.”
“Yeah. I’m not giving you an ultimatum or anything, but even after CPS makes a determination about your case, if Witt’s lawyer finds out we’re spending time together before the divorce is final, how’s that going to look?”
“You’ll never be able to resist me that long. I can be persuasive.”
Lock smiled at that. “I don’t know what gives you the impression I can be easily convinced, but I think you’re going to find out you’re wrong.”
“We’ll see.”
Later on, she asked him about growing up in Philadelphia. There was a lot he didn’t care to say about it, so he cast about for a good memory. “I told you about my dad. He was a grumpy man, even in his late thirties, and for most of my waking hours as a kid, he was sleeping it off. That’s the bulk of my memories of my father—sleeping with his mouth open.”
“Could have been worse,” Natalie said softly.
“I guess so. Most of my happy childhood recollections are of my mom. Great memories. No siblings, so I got all her attention. A few times, on a Sunday when she’d be off work, she’d tell my father we were going shopping for school clothes or something, but we’d actually drive down to the ocean, at Avalon. That’s where all the super-rich families vacationed, and we’d pretend we had a chauffeur drive us there. I’d call her Jeeves and she’d call me sir, and she’d laugh and we’d drive the whole way with all four windows down. When we’d start smelling the salt air, we knew we were almost there.”
Natalie said, “I suppose this is the time to mention Witt and I own a home on the beach in Avalon. I didn’t get to it once this summer. I kept making plans to go as a family, and Witt would reschedule at the last minute, and then summer was over.”
“That’s sad, having the house but not using it. It’s almost worse than not having the house,” Lock said. “My mom barely had enough spare money for gas and tolls. Sometimes she let me pay the tolls. I’d feel like a million bucks when she’d let me do that. Another time, on the boardwalk, I surprised her by pulling a ten-dollar bill out of my pocket—I’d earned it weeding a neighbor’s backyard garden the day before—and I insisted I buy her lunch. She let me, without putting up a fight. She was great that way. I had a hot dog and a Coke—real health food—and she ordered a grilled tuna and cheese and a glass of water. I guess she asked for water to try to keep the bill down. She told me it was the best sandwich she’d ever eaten in her entire life.”
“I can guarantee she was telling you the truth,” Natalie said.
“Yes,” he said, “she always told me the truth, and that taught me to as well. I don’t like lying, not even white lies.”
“What about a white lie to spare someone’s feelings?”
“I used to think it was unavoidable, but now I think it’s just better to tell the truth, or say nothing. I just try to be gentle about it.”
“You’re a rare human being then.”
“My father knew how to lie. He was good at it. He’d lie for no reason at all. If you’d ask him what time it was, he’d look at his watch and see it was 5:05. Then he’d tell you it was 5:06. Just deceitful
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