Read Online The Next Right Thing by Dan Barden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dan Barden
Tags: General Fiction
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time to ask those questions. And when they’re older, it’s beside the point, because it would be like asking them whether they like their own arm or leg. You’re so much a part of them. I don’t even care if my daughter likes me. I just care whether she allows me to participate in her life, and if she ever stopped doing that, I’d have to camp out on her doorstep until she changed her mind.”
“That sounds good,” Terry said. He was looking at the ocean when he said it, and I couldn’t see his eyes.
It was about six months after my babysitting intervention, in that same condo, the last one that Terry owned. It was sort of art deco with picture windows overlooking the ocean and two carports under each unit. Efficient but not unbeautiful. Architecturally, it seemed to recognize that it lived on a bluff above Pacific Coast Highway, and it never aspired to be more wonderful than that.
As I parked beneath his apartment, I was aware that Terry’s obsession with starting a family was getting out of hand. People told me about his difficult relationship with Claire, how sometimes they seemed like a couple and sometimes it seemed like Terry wanted to be Alexander’s father. We hadn’t seen each other in over a month. I was getting busy with work, but I hadn’tmet MP yet. I was going to lots of meetings, so I noticed he was MIA—he’d retreated from the wagging tongues—but I didn’t think much of it until I tried to reach him and he didn’t return my calls.
Terry appeared at his front door in an unbuttoned white dress shirt and a pair of board shorts. He smiled when he saw me but didn’t say anything, only opened the door. I sat down, pulled my cell phone from my pocket, and tossed it on the coffee table.
“They must think I’m in bad shape,” Terry said, “to send you.”
I forced a laugh. “Who is ‘they,’ Terry? Why does there have to be a plot for me to come visit you?” But there was plenty of truth to what he was saying.
“Because there is,” Terry said. “Maybe it’s just you and Wade. But I’m familiar with the scenario.” I didn’t like the look of that smile. It was his “fuck you” smile.
“Forget about Wade and anyone else,” I said. “This is you and me talking.”
“I’m trying to save this beautiful kid,” Terry said, “from a mother who might kill him in the process of killing herself.” He pointed toward the cabinet that held the wide-screen television. Above it—I hadn’t noticed—was a photo of Alexander.
“He seems like a great little boy,” I said stupidly.
“You want to say the word, Randy? You think I’m blackmailing Claire Monaco?”
The reason he thought he couldn’t go to meetings in Laguna anymore: when Claire Monaco ran afoul of Judge Fogarty, Terry offered to help her out financially in exchange for custody of the kid. Folks had opinions about this. How could they not?
I shrugged, another admission of powerlessness.
“What am I supposed to do?” Terry said. “Watch the opportunity pass me by? Sit here while this kid’s life is trashed?”
“You don’t know that his life will be trashed.”
“That’s what assholes always say when they want to excuse their complacence. ‘I don’t know.’ And while we’re at it, Randy, where the fuck have
you
been? You come over to my house like a visiting dignitary. You’re going to patronize
me
? Where were you when nobody in A.A. would even spit on me? Where were you when I pulled my head out and made the fucking dean’s list at law school every fucking semester that I was there?”
It was a big moment for me. For the first time, maybe the only time, he was letting me into the hell of his own addiction. This was the real thing. Since I’d met him, I’d seen Terry acting six different kinds of crazy, but I’d never seen him acting like such a
victim
. He was alone. In his mind, at least, he was completely alone, and he seemed at that moment like a man who had been designed for the relief
“That sounds good,” Terry said. He was looking at the ocean when he said it, and I couldn’t see his eyes.
It was about six months after my babysitting intervention, in that same condo, the last one that Terry owned. It was sort of art deco with picture windows overlooking the ocean and two carports under each unit. Efficient but not unbeautiful. Architecturally, it seemed to recognize that it lived on a bluff above Pacific Coast Highway, and it never aspired to be more wonderful than that.
As I parked beneath his apartment, I was aware that Terry’s obsession with starting a family was getting out of hand. People told me about his difficult relationship with Claire, how sometimes they seemed like a couple and sometimes it seemed like Terry wanted to be Alexander’s father. We hadn’t seen each other in over a month. I was getting busy with work, but I hadn’tmet MP yet. I was going to lots of meetings, so I noticed he was MIA—he’d retreated from the wagging tongues—but I didn’t think much of it until I tried to reach him and he didn’t return my calls.
Terry appeared at his front door in an unbuttoned white dress shirt and a pair of board shorts. He smiled when he saw me but didn’t say anything, only opened the door. I sat down, pulled my cell phone from my pocket, and tossed it on the coffee table.
“They must think I’m in bad shape,” Terry said, “to send you.”
I forced a laugh. “Who is ‘they,’ Terry? Why does there have to be a plot for me to come visit you?” But there was plenty of truth to what he was saying.
“Because there is,” Terry said. “Maybe it’s just you and Wade. But I’m familiar with the scenario.” I didn’t like the look of that smile. It was his “fuck you” smile.
“Forget about Wade and anyone else,” I said. “This is you and me talking.”
“I’m trying to save this beautiful kid,” Terry said, “from a mother who might kill him in the process of killing herself.” He pointed toward the cabinet that held the wide-screen television. Above it—I hadn’t noticed—was a photo of Alexander.
“He seems like a great little boy,” I said stupidly.
“You want to say the word, Randy? You think I’m blackmailing Claire Monaco?”
The reason he thought he couldn’t go to meetings in Laguna anymore: when Claire Monaco ran afoul of Judge Fogarty, Terry offered to help her out financially in exchange for custody of the kid. Folks had opinions about this. How could they not?
I shrugged, another admission of powerlessness.
“What am I supposed to do?” Terry said. “Watch the opportunity pass me by? Sit here while this kid’s life is trashed?”
“You don’t know that his life will be trashed.”
“That’s what assholes always say when they want to excuse their complacence. ‘I don’t know.’ And while we’re at it, Randy, where the fuck have
you
been? You come over to my house like a visiting dignitary. You’re going to patronize
me
? Where were you when nobody in A.A. would even spit on me? Where were you when I pulled my head out and made the fucking dean’s list at law school every fucking semester that I was there?”
It was a big moment for me. For the first time, maybe the only time, he was letting me into the hell of his own addiction. This was the real thing. Since I’d met him, I’d seen Terry acting six different kinds of crazy, but I’d never seen him acting like such a
victim
. He was alone. In his mind, at least, he was completely alone, and he seemed at that moment like a man who had been designed for the relief
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