“Really? That’s great.”
He pulled away and looked up at me. “You’re crying?”
“Yup, ‘cause I’m so glad to see you.”
He grabbed me again and hugged harder. “You’ll stay home now, won’t you?”
I nodded, holding him to me, rocking us back and forth. “Yes, I’m here now.”
“Max, I’ve got a lot to tell you. Remember that kid Kenneth Spilke I told you about? The kid who threw the chalk at me?”
Through a fog of jet lag, love, and concern about how I would react when I saw his mother, I listened as Lincoln unrolled the carpet of his life since I had been gone. So much had happened! A pitched playground battle with Kenneth Spilke over a girl, a telephone conversation with that same girl about kids they both hated, and a test in school on the digestive system, then two lousy meals Lily had cooked one right after the other when he had specifically told her he didn’t want broccoli again… It was great to hear him toot on about these matters. I watched and listened to him with full attention. If only life forever could be these minutes, full of fifth-grade news and expectancy about when his mother would be home. Ironically, other times I would have listened with only half an ear to this wrap-up, the other half for an opening door. Now he had it all because he was the only normal left in my life.
“And what’s up with your mama?”
“I told you, she cooked these two gross meals—”
“No, I mean what else? What’s she been doing?”
He shrugged and licked his tongue back and forth over his teeth. “I don’t know. Working, I guess.”
I would’ve taken that as sufficient if I had not happened to look up and see the expression on his face. Lincoln wasn’t good at hiding things. He was too open and friendly; wanted you to know what was going on in his life.
“What, Linc? What is it?”
He glanced at me, couldn’t keep his eyes there, looked away. It made me frown. “What’s the matter?”
“I didn’t know if you’d come back.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe you were leaving us for good.” His voice got much louder. “I mean, why should you stay around? Maybe you don’t like us anymore or something.”
“Lincoln, why are you saying this? Where did you get the idea—”
“I don’t know. It was just kinda surprising when you went away like that. Zippo and you were gone. How was I supposed to know?”
“Because I would never do that to you. I would never just walk out on you. I’m your friend. Friends don’t do that to each other.”
I gestured for him to come and sit on my lap. We talked some more but I could barely follow what he was saying because my mind was working so fast.
“Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you bring me anything from New York?”
“Sure! Sure I did. How could I forget? Come on.” I went to my suitcase and got out the T-shirt and basketball sneakers I’d bought him in New Jersey.
“You got ‘em, Max! They’re exactly what I wanted. Oh, you’re great! Thank you!”
It’s so easy to win a kid’s heart with presents. He’d been wanting the trendy shirt and shoes a long time but Lily refused to buy them because they were ridiculously expensive.
“Do you want to see them? Should I put them on?”
“Of course! Are you kidding? You have to wear them for the rest of your life.”
He held the shoes in one hand, the shirt in the other. Looking at me, he dropped them and hugged me again. “You’re the best, Max. Just the best.”
While he worked to put them on, I tried as best I could to grill him in a subtle way. Had anything happened while I was gone? Anything special or different? How had Lily acted? He was much more interested in the new shoes—I got mostly “I dunno” and “I guess” in answer to my questions.
A car door slammed outside, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock. “Anybody home?”
“Here we are, Mom. Max’s back!”
“Thank God.”
Suddenly there were flurries of sound in the kitchen—Cobb’s tail hitting the floor, Lily talking to him, something being placed heavily on a counter, some chatter from her that was too far away to be understood. Then there she was. It felt to me like we were meeting for the first time. My heart beat hard.
“You didn’t answer. How’s your brother?” She sailed into the room on a cloud of love and self-confidence. I was home, we were a family again. She didn’t know what I knew. I was afraid of what she hadn’t told me. How much different could our hearts have been at that shared moment in our lives?
My brother? What did he have to do with this? At the last second I luckily remembered I’d gone to New York ostensibly to see Saul.
“He’s okay. Naughty as usual. Making lots of money.”
She strode over and gave me a big long kiss. “We missed you. Lincoln said I talked about you too much.” She looked like a great meal; you didn’t know where to start first. Sirens were going off in my head and heart, love bats swooping and lifting, men on pogo sticks bouncing around wooden floors. How was I supposed to feel about this? Or deal with it? I adored this woman. Lusted after her every spent breath. She terrified me.
“Well, bucko, tell the truth, are you glad to be home with us?”
Before I could answer, Lincoln picked up a leg and stuck it in her face. “Ma, check out the sneaks! Air Jordans. He got ‘em for me in New York.”
“You bought those things? Are you out of your mind?”
“I guess so.”
“I guess so too, but it’s a nice mind. We’re extremely glad to have it back.”
When Lincoln left to show his shoes to a friend in the neighborhood, Lily and I stayed in the living room.
“Why are we suddenly so quiet? Have we already run out of things to tell each other? How was New York?”
“Someone shot at me.”
“What do you mean?”
“A guy shot at me while I was driving.” Grateful for a story to tell so I could stay away from the important subject, I dragged it out, exaggerating here and there, making it even worse than it was. Not so that I would appear heroic or more levelheaded, but because telling a woman a story is one of the greatest pleasures in life. Holding their attention, seeing their reaction, making them laugh or rear back in shock or wonder… The woman you love is the true listener, the supreme audience. Even when she is dangerous and you are afraid of her.
Lily heard me out. When I was finished, she put her head down on her lap and mumbled.
“What?”
She looked up. “I don’t know what I would have done.”
“I was very spooked.”
“I’m not talking about spooked, I’m talking about life. If I’d answered the telephone and heard some state trooper in New York calling to say you were dead, I don’t know what I would’ve done.” She closed her eyes. “I might have gone mad. Yeah, I think I’d have gone crazy. I thought about you unendingly when you were gone, Max. Like I was sixteen again and in love for the first time. I passed a flower store and wanted to go in and get you some for your desk, those white tulips you like so much. Even though you weren’t here. I bought stupid little presents and hid them under your pillow. I couldn’t wait to hear what you’d say. But so what, that’s love, right? Remember I told you when I masturbate, my fantasy is always a faceless man who makes love to me? Even that changed. When I did it this time it was you there, and the more I could remember about you, your voice or the way your hands touch me, the hotter I got. I masturbated all the time, Max. You and I fucked and fucked and couldn’t get enough. We never got tired. We did it on beaches, in cars, other people’s beds, everywhere. One time I imagined us doing it on Ibrahim’s desk in the back of the restaurant. It was so strong. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted you so much.” She stood up. “Come on, let’s do it now while Lincoln’s out.”
“Lily—”
“No, I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t want to think about dying or you being away. It was hard enough for that short time. I want to make love now and smell you. I want that great smell all around me. I just want more right now, Max. Okay? Tell me your other stuff later. Come on.” She took my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom. More erotic than anything was the way she held my hand. She kept squeezing it and letting it go slack, as if her hand itself had its own pulse, or a way of hurried breathing. Squeeze, stop, squeeze, stop.