I do a fast look over my shoulder. The girls are climbing the metal stairs to the plane. At least Kaley did one thing as asked without argument.
I bend and look into the car. The twins look terrified. I hold a hand out to the boys. “Come on. It’s OK. It’s a short walk to the plane. I’ll be with you the entire way.”
I wait. Just take my hand, one of you, please. Nothing. They’re afraid to get out of the car.
Decision made. I lean in, scoop one under each arm, and carefully back away from the car until I can stand.
I adjust my hold so I can see them. “Do you want to walk or do you want me to carry you?”
Eric tries to wiggle free. I set him on his feet, but Ethan loops his arms around my neck. It is a uniquely pleasant feeling.
I smile. “It’s going to be OK, kiddo. Just ignore them. That’s what I do.”
I march toward the stairs with the boys. I usher Eric in front of me, and the cameras don’t stop even though they’ve got nothing to see but my back. Haven’t the tabloids ever seen kids before?
The flashes start popping even more rapidly. What the fuck has happened now? I feel movement in my arms and shift my gaze to Ethan. His arm that was around my neck is behind my back waving at the press. I almost smile. Nice touch, kid.
Inside the plane, I find the girls waiting for me. Every seat from the tenth row back is full. Who the fuck are all these people? The nanny is supposed to be here. I don’t see her and I’m not going to search through the plane looking for her.
I stop at the bank of seats in the front row where the tour manager has already staked his claim. I set Eric down on one side of him, and Ethan on the other. Cuddy looks up from his phone and gives me a startled look, though he doesn’t have the nerve to tell me not to put my kids here. It’s probably rude just to surround him with them without asking, but fuck it, it’s my plane.
I motion for Kaley and Krystal to sit.
“This is Cuddy, the tour manager,” I explain. “He’ll make sure the flight crew gets you whatever you need.” I point to the hulking figure standing twenty rows away. “Back there is Nick Day, the production manager. That’s as far back in the plane as you’re allowed to go. You’re not allowed to mix with the road crew. I’m going to sleep until we land in Mumbai. Behave yourselves.”
I can feel stares from all around me. Everyone on the plane is watching and not pretending to do otherwise. Fine, I didn’t announce I’d be bringing the kids. Get over it.
My gaze settles on Kaley. That’s where the trouble is going to come from if there is going to be any.
She glares. I arch a brow at her. No response. Silent treatment still in effect. Fine, Kaley, today that’s a win for me. I start making my way down the aisle to Linda and Len.
“Daddy, are we there yet? I’m bored.”
That stops me. After six days of unrelenting, hostile silence now Kaley decides to speak. It’s not going to be good. I turn back toward the front of the plane. She is sitting on her seat on her knees, arms draped over the top, staring at me.
I’m not sure what pisses me off more: her relentless efforts to irritate me; her willingness to engage in shocking public displays rather than just talking to me—why won’t the girl just talk to me?—or her flexible voice that dominates the air without effort that I can no longer deny she’s inherited from me.
I meet her stare for stare. “You speak to me in that sarcastic tone of voice again and this trip is going to get real rough real fast.”
Kaley smiles. “Sure, Pop. I just have one question, though. Why did you drag us along on the Smash the Family tour? You should have just left me home with Mom. At least she’s not an asshole.”
I feel the beginnings of an Alec Baldwin moment. I’ve always been critical of Alec for that damn voice mail he left his daughter that’s had far too much media play. But now I understand it better. The chaotic emotions and flash responses your own kids can stir. Of course, Alec had been stupid in the extreme thinking only of the immediate release and not the long game, but oh, I am beginning to understand it. Kaley can effortlessly hack through my reserve and the girl uses a machete.
I count to ten inside my head. “Go ahead, Kaley. Keep it up. You’re only embarrassing yourself.”
“Fine, I’ll sit here and tweet.” The smile she gives me is pure Chrissie. “Come on, Pop. Lighten up. Admit it, that was a little funny.”
Yep, that round she was Chrissie. I sink into the seat across the aisle from Linda, recline, and nearly have my eyes shut before Linda starts to laugh.
“Oh God, Manny, she’s you. We should start calling her Mini-Manny. She certainly knows how to get you pissed off.”
I open my eyes. “I don’t need one more enemy, Linda. Don’t pick at me. I’m already surrounded.”
I can tell Linda is fighting back a smile. “Jesus, you’re touchy today.”
I run a hand through my hair, shaking my head. “The girl hates me. I don’t know what I was thinking bringing them along for this.”
Linda gives me a sympathetic look. “The girl, as you kindly refer to her, is your daughter. That’s what you were thinking. Don’t work so hard. Sometimes that’s all the answer there is. And she doesn’t hate you. She’s angry. There’s a difference. How are the little ones doing? Did you have a nice holiday at Winderly House with them?”
“How the fuck would I know? The boys don’t talk. And Krystal, she smiles all the time for no reason, but when she sees me she stops smiling. You can decide for yourself what that means.”
“Jesus, OK. I didn’t ask to pry. I asked because it looks like the second verse is coming your way. Parenting is not your forte, Manny. You better learn quickly. You can’t hide from them. You can’t ignore them and you certainly shouldn’t fight with them. Why the hell did you leave them in the front of the plane?”
Criticism on parenting from Linda. Really? “Because I need a break from them. And I don’t need your advice.”
“Of course you don’t. You do very well all on your own being an asshole.”
Linda closes her tray table with an angry snap.
I open my eyes to see Krystal closing in with her playful half-skipping walk. She smiles at everyone she passes, but she stops smiling when she nears me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Krystal climbs over me and settles in the seat beside me. She locks her belt in place. “Kaley is really angry. I don’t want to sit with her. You shouldn’t argue with her. It makes her angrier. Mom and I ignore her when she’s in a mood. It seems to work.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
I watch her pull from her backpack a homework packet, pencil and calculator, drop the tray table down and immediately begin working on it.
I study her for a while. “Why are you not angry? You’ve got as much reason to be angry as your sister does. You just go with the flow.”
Krystal shrugs. “I’m like Mom. Kaley is like you.”
Interesting comment. How does she know that? Chrissie, no doubt.
“You don’t hate me, do you?” I ask.
Krystal looks startled by the questions. “Why should I hate you, Dad? I didn’t hate you before. Why should I hate you now? You are my dad, aren’t you?”
The way she says Dad stirs an odd impulse in me to cry. It is in the easy tones of a loving and emotionally generous child. It is heartfelt and unexpected. It’s the first time she’s called me that. My gaze roams her dark hair, her bright blue eyes, her too small nose and full lips. Part Chrissie. Part me.
These five kids, each so different, are all part Chrissie and part me. It is overwhelming to see it. I can see it so clearly now. Why couldn’t I see it before? What kind of man can be around his own children year after year and not see that they are his?
Choked up with unfamiliar emotion I never expected to have, I continue to watch Krystal work on her homework. “Me being your dad, it seems to be the case. You’re not sorry we’re related, are you?”
She shakes her head, chews on the tip of her mechanical pencil and then goes to work on a problem. I watch her silently for the first hour of the flight, this bright, confident and self-sufficient girl.