thought it,” she said, and he felt a twinge. It occurred to him that she had, for a long dreary time, basically been bored of him, her boring old father , and that this unexpected and sudden turn was possibly a rare opportunity for redemption. Spark-of-life-in-the-old-geezer-yet. “I never would have thought you would take it on. Like, I couldn’t personally do this. I mean, even if I could, I couldn’t. But you know what? I’m glad that you’re stepping up. I’m glad one of us is looking out for him.”
He almost asked why she and Stern were not close anymore. There was a time the two of them had got together almost every weekend. He had assumed the relationship was purely platonic, but that assumption was rooted in fatherhood and, if he had to be honest, also her condition. She would not appreciate a question on the subject. Not in the least.
Anyway he thought of her in the kitchen with Nancy and did not wish to know the details.
After they hung up he was torn: possibly she attributed noble motives to him where there were none, maybe he was lying to her by letting her think this was some kind of generous act. Then again she was not too interested in nobility, as a rule. She was interested in honesty, and also some other quality that sometimes seemed like courage and other times bravado, but she was not interested in altruism; she thought it was beside the point. Maybe she was just relieved to discover he could be spontaneous.
He had to talk to Susan next, there was no helping it. He had to get information from her: contact numbers, addresses, copies of photographs to show around, his travel itinerary. Reluctantly he called her office, praying Robert would not pick up instead.
“I got you a flight out this evening, believe it or not,” she told him, a bit breathless. “The travel agent’s next door. You know, Pam? It was either tonight or early next week.”
“Fine with me,” he said, and waved in Linda, who stood hesitating in his open door. Her frizzy hair descended from her head like a flying buttress, or a wedge not unlike the headdress of the Giza Sphinx.
The effect, sadly, was less regal.
Then he felt a stab of guilt, or sympathy. Both. Linda was a self-effacing, kindly woman. He picked at the flaws of his coworkers because he could never get at his own, he knew they were there but could not easily identify them—save for one, which opened before him like a hole in the very fabric of space, bristling with static. Bad father, father who let them hurt his baby.
It was transparent, but no less a habit for being so obvious.
He felt sorry for all of them, the coworkers and himself. He barely listened to Susan, who seemed to be nattering on about logistics. This lack of attention was a victory of a sort, a victory over her. Or his love for her anyway.
Meanwhile Linda sat down self-consciously in his guest chair, shifting in the seat as she crossed her wide legs.
“Is there a copy of his passport? With the number on it?” he asked Susan, mostly to sound official.
“I’ll look.”
“That would be helpful. Other than that, the hotel, his own itinerary, flights, cars, whatever records you have of the travel. His Social Security, just in case. Business credit-card numbers. All that.”
Linda shuffled her feet back and forth in their sturdy brown shoes and fiddled with her watchband, waiting. He caught her eye and mouthed that he was sorry. The gesture was too intimate for her, however. She looked down, embarrassed.
“I’ll have it ready in a few minutes. You fly out around six, so you should leave the office by four,” said Susan. “You’ll be staying the night in Houston before you do the international leg in the morning. I got you an airport hotel.”
“And you’ll need to return the rental car for me. It’s parked in my space. Linda will have the key.”
“I’ll send a runner over with the documents. And your ticket. And whatever.”
“Excellent.”
“But Hal? You were drunk,
He almost asked why she and Stern were not close anymore. There was a time the two of them had got together almost every weekend. He had assumed the relationship was purely platonic, but that assumption was rooted in fatherhood and, if he had to be honest, also her condition. She would not appreciate a question on the subject. Not in the least.
Anyway he thought of her in the kitchen with Nancy and did not wish to know the details.
After they hung up he was torn: possibly she attributed noble motives to him where there were none, maybe he was lying to her by letting her think this was some kind of generous act. Then again she was not too interested in nobility, as a rule. She was interested in honesty, and also some other quality that sometimes seemed like courage and other times bravado, but she was not interested in altruism; she thought it was beside the point. Maybe she was just relieved to discover he could be spontaneous.
He had to talk to Susan next, there was no helping it. He had to get information from her: contact numbers, addresses, copies of photographs to show around, his travel itinerary. Reluctantly he called her office, praying Robert would not pick up instead.
“I got you a flight out this evening, believe it or not,” she told him, a bit breathless. “The travel agent’s next door. You know, Pam? It was either tonight or early next week.”
“Fine with me,” he said, and waved in Linda, who stood hesitating in his open door. Her frizzy hair descended from her head like a flying buttress, or a wedge not unlike the headdress of the Giza Sphinx.
The effect, sadly, was less regal.
Then he felt a stab of guilt, or sympathy. Both. Linda was a self-effacing, kindly woman. He picked at the flaws of his coworkers because he could never get at his own, he knew they were there but could not easily identify them—save for one, which opened before him like a hole in the very fabric of space, bristling with static. Bad father, father who let them hurt his baby.
It was transparent, but no less a habit for being so obvious.
He felt sorry for all of them, the coworkers and himself. He barely listened to Susan, who seemed to be nattering on about logistics. This lack of attention was a victory of a sort, a victory over her. Or his love for her anyway.
Meanwhile Linda sat down self-consciously in his guest chair, shifting in the seat as she crossed her wide legs.
“Is there a copy of his passport? With the number on it?” he asked Susan, mostly to sound official.
“I’ll look.”
“That would be helpful. Other than that, the hotel, his own itinerary, flights, cars, whatever records you have of the travel. His Social Security, just in case. Business credit-card numbers. All that.”
Linda shuffled her feet back and forth in their sturdy brown shoes and fiddled with her watchband, waiting. He caught her eye and mouthed that he was sorry. The gesture was too intimate for her, however. She looked down, embarrassed.
“I’ll have it ready in a few minutes. You fly out around six, so you should leave the office by four,” said Susan. “You’ll be staying the night in Houston before you do the international leg in the morning. I got you an airport hotel.”
“And you’ll need to return the rental car for me. It’s parked in my space. Linda will have the key.”
“I’ll send a runner over with the documents. And your ticket. And whatever.”
“Excellent.”
“But Hal? You were drunk,
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