down and looked for something on him, something distinctive and permanent, so I would always know he was mine, if anything happened.”
Together, they pore over Wyeth. Paul leans in.
“Oh, here!” Francie points with a polished pink nail. “I don’t know if this will stay, but look at this triangle of bright blue in his left eye, right there, four o’clock.”
Paul has had enough of this. Women are such crisis-mongers. How often does a baby get snatched? Paul wonders. He zips up his SuperNova Electric fleece and puts the Volvo keys in his pocket. Paul kisses Eva on the head, tucks Wyeth in her crook like a taquito, and promises to be back before they can miss him.
“All set?” he says.
“Ready!” Francie chirps, and he gallantly scoops up the car seat, surprised by its weight.
“I really appreciate this,” Francie prattles as Paul swings the car seat slightly by the handle. Francie has two diaper bags over her bony shoulders, one fancy-schmancy one and the standard black hospital bag and a giant, ridiculous-looking stuffed animal under her other arm. She looks like a teenager lugging her boyfriend’s winnings at the state fair. “John’s so busy, there’s this brewery in Singapore that wants to go into partnership on the Soaring Scotsman, and they’re just hammering out all the details. I told John we have to go by the Chosen Child to sign his name on the documents this afternoon, and then believe it or not, he’s on a plane out tonight…”
They wait for the elevator to arrive.
“I thought John was a computer guy.”
“He was—he is, I mean; he consults and he’s still on the board so he has to fly to California for that every few weeks, but this brewery is his baby.”
Both their eyes drift to Angus, swinging along in the car seat between them.
In the parking garage, Paul opens the back of the Volvo so Francie can load the diaper bags and stuffed animal while he carefully buckles the car seat. He catches a whiff of cigarettes, and he can feel eyes on the back of his neck. Paul is not superstitious, but as he fumbles for the safety belt, he wonders…Could it be his father, somehow, a crossing between worlds, a visit from Paul Sr. as he becomes a father himself? It is something Eva would say, that him smelling his father’s cigarettes and feeling a strong sense of being watched were signs, proof that Paul Sr. was still with them.
Shaken, Paul straightens up, looks over his shoulder. By the parking garage elevators there is a hulking, skinhead-type guy in a leather jacket pacing, jiggling his legs, smoking. Of course; Paul exhales. The man narrows his eyes at Paul, squares off, agitated. Paul walks quickly to the back of the Volvo and shuts it, puts his hand protectively on Francie’s elbow as he hurries her around to her side of the car. Inside, he hits the lock, puts the car in reverse. In the rearview mirror, Paul sees that the man hasn’t broken his gaze, is still studying them through an exhalation of smoke.
And then the baby starts screaming, a horrible ragged cry, and Paul turns his attention to driving, to shepherding Francie McAdoo and her new baby home.
15
Bar Talk
JASON
“Cute kid; sure he’s yours?” Lisle asks as Jason puts the hospital Polaroid of Buddy carefully back in his wallet.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason feels like meat that has been pounded with a steel hammer, and here comes his brother with the salt and lemon juice.
“I’m just messing with you. The hair. You’re going bald, and he’s got a big ol’ bushy fro like Grandpa Jack.”
“I shave my head.” Where the hell are the beers? Jason scans for the waitress.
“Cute kid,” Lisle says again. “Fuckin’ shame.”
“It’s just timing,” Jason says.
“Fifty percent of life is timing,” Lisle says, and Jason knows he pulled the number out of his ass, but still, he’s trying. And he’s buying the beers that can’t come fast enough.
“They’re keeping Pen looped,” Jason says.
“It’s better that way.”
“Yeah.” Jason stoops forward in his chair. Feels like his jacket is weighing him down, so tired he can’t even sit upright.
“This your first kid?”
Jason nods, stretches his legs out under the table, trying to get where the fire-hot ache in his back doesn’t make the one leg numb. “We were set up too. Sort of even planned for it. At least, weren’t trying not to have one.”
Lisle nods.
“Penny was checking at the Sav-On, I was at the car wash, temporarily,