“This is it?” For some reason, the possibility of her getting out of this car and me not ever seeing her again turns me desperate. “Could I call you?”
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she says, opening the door and stepping out.
“No plans.”
“Pick me up at eleven if you want to. Right here. I’ll spend the day with you.”
“I don’t even know your—”
“You will. For now, just enjoy what happened tonight. Relish it. It was pure.”
She slams the door and I wait until she’s inside the building before driving away. I’m tempted to hit another club or bar, or just cruise through the mansions in the hills.
But instead, I decide to head on home and relish it.
I rise at 6:30 before anyone else and creep into the kitchen and start assembling the ingredients for the only dish I know how to make—a Mexican omelet.
Since there’s four of us, I break a dozen eggs into a glass mixing bowl. Then I shred half a block of sharp cheddar and what’s left of a block of monetary jack. Then I cut up some tomatoes, add a third of a cup of hot chipotle salsa, sauté some onion, green pepper, and a heap of diced jalapeno peppers. I add everything to the eggs, throw in salt and pepper and red pepper and a tablespoon of Tabasco sauce. Then I whisk it all together and dump the whole runny mixture into a buttered frying pan.
The Dunkquists start drifting into the kitchen as the smell of my Mexican omelet fills the house. I’ve gone ahead and brewed a pot of coffee so strong it could run a car engine, and I’m sitting on the kitchen counter, staring out the window at those hills catching early morning sun.
“You didn’t have to do this, Lance,” Hannah says as she opens a cabinet and retrieves her Lakers coffee mug. She pours herself a cup, sips it, winces. Without saying a word, she dumps it into the sink, and takes a teabag from a glass jar. As she fills a saucepan with water and fires up the gas on the stove, Bo enters in underwear and a tee-shirt.
“That looks interesting,” she says, staring down into the congealing eggs.
“Surprised to see you up so early,” Bo says to me. “Smells great.”
He takes a mug from the cabinet bearing the logo of his software company (the talons of a hawk in swift descent) and fills it with my unwanted coffee. He sips it, looks at me, and smiles.
“Now that’s what coffee’s supposed to taste like.”
“You tasted this yet, Hannah?”
“Little strong for me,” she says flatly, coldly. I am unfortunately coming to the realization that my brother married a real fucking bitch.
“Where’d you go last night?” Bo asks, leaning against the counter beside me. I’m wearing a red and blue Ralph Lauren robe, incidentally. Very classy.
“This dance club.”
“Oh? I didn’t think you liked that sort of thing.”
“I don’t, but I was curious to see some LA nightlife.”
“Meet anybody?”
“I did actually. I’m going to spend the day with her.”
I notice that Hannah is staring at me like she wants to ask me something. She might loath me.
“Could you stir the eggs, Hannah?” I ask as nicely as I possibly can.
She takes the wooden spatula, turns her back to us, and stirs the eggs.
“So are you going to look for a job next week, Lance?” she asks.
“I sure am.”
“And you were a legal assistant up until a week ago?”
“Yes.” I sip my coffee. I hate being asked questions by people who dislike me.
“What kind of work do you have in mind?”
“Whatever’s available. Doesn’t really matter, long as it pays decent.”
Little feet come slapping down the hall, and Sam runs into the kitchen. He stops suddenly when he sees me. You can tell that he forgot I was here. He just sort of looks at me for a moment, not unlike the way his mother does. But then he smiles and runs over to Bo and hangs on his leg.
“I wanna swim,” he says, looking up into his daddy’s eyes.
“Gotta eat first, pal.”
“Swim!”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
Sam considers this, then nods.
“As soon as you eat, you can go swim. I’ll bet Lance would love to swim with you. You remember Uncle Lance?”
“No, just you.”
“Okay, okay.” Bo winks at me. “Let’s get in your highchair. Uncle Lance made breakfast for everyone.”
After breakfast, I offer to wash the dishes, but Hannah won’t let me. She didn’t touch the omelet I made, even though it was very tasty.
Since it’s just past nine, the brutal heat has not set in. Bo and I put on swimming trunks, and Sam leads us out into the backyard. The water in the swimming pool is tepid and grass clippings float on the surface. We turn the pool upside down. This is unbearable to Sam, who starts sobbing and screaming because I guess he thinks that was the only water around. He settles down once Bo unwinds the garden hose and starts refilling the pool.
Sam loves water. He climbs into the pool while it’s filling and just sits there on the plastic, watching the stream of water flowing out of the nozzle.
Bo and I sit on the picnic table. It feels exceptionally pleasant out here at this hour of the morning. I take off my shirt.
Once the pool is filled, Bo takes the hose away from Sam and cuts off the water. Apparently, Sam enjoys squirting adults who don’t care to get wet.
“So tell me about being married,” I say, since neither of us have yet said a word and I’m a bit curious anyway.
Bo smiles and removes his shirt. I’m in exceedingly better physical condition than my brother.
“It’s good,” he says. “It really is.”
I don’t believe him of course.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you tell me if it wasn’t?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hannah’s great.”
“Yep.”
“Why doesn’t she like me?”
He looks at me.
“What are you talking about?”
“I know when someone doesn’t like me. She doesn’t.”
He sighs.
“I think the whole just showing up unannounced thing kind of got to her, you know?”
I don’t know. If I were married and my spouse’s brother showed up without calling, I’d be thrilled to take them in and give them a bed and food, because that’s what you do for family.
“I’ll apologize,” I say, and Bo doesn’t say anything, and this really upsets me, because he should tell me I don’t have to apologize for anything to his wife, since I’m his brother after all. You just fuckin’ show up. This is your house, too. Didn’t he say that to me the night I came here?
Hannah steps out onto the back porch and asks if she can speak to Bo for a minute. The way Bo doesn’t say anything, but just hops off the table and jogs back toward the house confirms two things for me:
(i) he’s scared shitless of that woman; and
(ii) he hates her exponentially more than I do.
Sam is pretty engrossed with playing in the pool when Bo runs back into the house, but he notices. I guess kids always notice when their parents leave. Sam immediately looks at me like “should I be upset about this?” and I’m thinking please don’t start crying, but I guess he feels comfortable with me because he returns his attention to the water toys.
I step down into the grass and walk over to the pool.
“Hey, there, Sam.”
He looks up at me but doesn’t say anything. I step into the pool. The water is cool.
“Can I sit down, Sam?”
He looks at me but still won’t talk. I sit down and shiver as the cool water comes up to my bellybutton. Sam is playing with a green, plastic boat. He’s sailing it through the water. After awhile, he hands me a red boat. I sail it through the water just like he’s doing. He takes the red boat back and gives me the green one.
“Sam?” He looks up at me, squinting now as the sun has come up over those distant hills. “I’m your uncle. Uncle Lance. I love you, Sam.”
He looks down into the blue water. I think he’s more interested in the boat.
Chapter 15