“Times change, darlin’. Lifestyles change. Kids grow up a lot faster, and there’s a greater need for connection. It’s anything but a kind and gentle world out there, as I don’t have to tell you. Cell phones aren’t just for kids’ amusement, they’re for emergencies too. And to keep emergencies from happening.”
No way I could argue with that. “Okay,” I said. “Still, those things are expensive.”
“The one Emily wants is reasonable enough.”
“You mean she’s got a specific brand all picked out?”
“Oh, yes. The same kind Carla Simpson has. Nokia 3360, AT&T model. It comes with battery, charger, and headset, but she’s also lobbying for a couple of accessories.”
“What kind of accessories can a cell phone have?”
“A leather carrying case with belt clip, for one. And... let’s see... an extra face plate in either polar blue or Vesuvius red.”
“My God.” I took another hit of watery beer. “Just how much does all of that cost?”
“Under two hundred dollars.”
“Under two hundred. A bargain.”
“It’s not bad, really, at today’s prices. And it’s the only thing she’s asking for. I thought if you’d get the equipment, I’d pay the monthly rate for six months. If she doesn’t abuse the privilege, and consents to doing a few extra chores, then she can keep it for another six months. And so forth on that basis.”
“So you really think we ought to do this.”
“Well, it’ll grant her wish and teach her care and responsibility at the same time. Why not indulge her a little?”
I thought it over. Kerry was right. After all Emily had been through in her young life, the tragic loss of both her birth parents and the knowledge that they’d been living a double life, and the restructuring of her entire existence, she was entitled if any ten-year-old was. For the first few months she’d been with us, even though she’d wanted the adoption as much as we did, she had been frightened, withdrawn — a state worsened by a shooting incident that had nearly cost me my life. Lately, with both my life and our home life back on an even keel, there’d been positive signs that she was emerging from the crisis period, like a butterfly from its cocoon. She had started to make friends among her classmates at her new school — she and Carla were inseparable these days — and her grades were improving as well. She smiled more often, was more communicative. And she’d stopped sleeping with all the lights on in her room.
“Okay,” I said, “so we’ll play extravagant Santa this year. As long as she doesn’t expect to get expensive gifts every Christmas.”
“I don’t think she will.”
“What was that model number again?”
“Nokia 3360.”
“Right. Charger, headset, carrying case, and, uh, red or green face plate.”
“Vesuvius red or polar blue. And the charger and headset are included with the phone. You’d better write it all down.”
“I’ll remember.”
“No, you won’t. Write it down.”
“Later,” I said. “Now, how about you?”
“How about me what?”
“What do you want for Christmas, little girl?”
She smiled, then got up in that languid way of hers and came over and plunked herself down on my lap. “I already have everything I want, Santa,” she said.
“Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right. I’m content.”
“Must be something you need or would like.”
She wagged her auburn head. “Your turn. What do you want for Christmas?”
“You to stop picking on me.”
“I don’t know, that’s a pretty tall order. What else?”
“Easy. You for the rest of my life, just like this.”
“Snuggled up in your lap?”
“Until my bones get too brittle to support the weight.”
“Well, I guess that’s do-able. Say another thirty years’ worth?”
“I’d settle for twenty.”
“Thirty, minimum,” she said and kissed me.
The kiss started out light and tender, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Never does with Kerry and me. We went at it enthusiastically for awhile, hanging on tight, before we came up for air.
And there was Emily, grinning at us from ten feet away.
“Boy,” she said, “you guys. Carla’s parents don’t do that anymore and they’re a lot younger.”
“Is that so,” Kerry said. “How do you know they don’t?”
“Carla told me.”
“And how does she know what her folks do when she’s not around?”
“She heard them talking once in their bedroom. Arguing, I guess. Her mom said she was glad it happened because she was tired of being pestered all the time.”
“Glad what happened?”
Emily said matter-of-factly, “Her dad can’t get it up anymore. But don’t tell anybody, it’s supposed to be a secret,” and then went skipping off into the kitchen.
Kerry and I looked at each other. She sighed and got slowly off my lap.
“Kids,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said.
There didn’t seem to be anything else to say.
4
Tamara
Horace laid his Christmas surprise on her that night at dinner, two weeks early.
Long day and she didn’t feel like going to a restaurant, just wanted to veg out in front of the TV with the rest of last night’s pizza. But he kept after her till she finally gave in. He had the fidgets, even worse than the past few nights. Excited and nervous at the same time — always a sure sign there was something worrying around in that big head of his.
So they went over to the Grotto on Lake Street, a couple of blocks from their flat on 27th Avenue. Usually Horace had a pint or two of IPA — man did love his beer — but tonight he ordered scotch, neat. Uh-oh, Tamara thought. Scotch meant this was a Big Deal; Scotch meant she would either love or hate whatever it was he was fixing to tell her.
He didn’t waste any time. Slugged down half his drink soon as it came, leaned forward with his eyes all shiny, and covered her hands with both of his. He had the biggest hands. Soft hands. Slow hands that made her shiver every time he touched her, specially in bed. Large all over, that man. Two hundred and fifty pounds of dynamite, he’d said to her once, with a two-inch fuse. Hah. Two times four, just about.
“Baby, I have news. Major news.”
“Already figured that much.”
“I had an audition today. At the conservatory.”
“Audition?”
“With a symphony conductor. Mr. Davalino arranged it, had me play movements from two of the six Suites for Cello by Bach and Tchaikovsky’s Peter Ilyitch.” Big grin. “It went fine. The conductor said my sostenuto was the best he’d heard in a young cellist.”
“Sostenuto. Singing tone, right?”
“Right. If everything goes well now... just what I’ve been working for, praying for. A seat with a major orchestra.”
“Oh, baby, that’s wonderful.” His excitement had flowed into her; she squeezed his hands. “But why didn’t you tell me about the audition? Must’ve been set up for a while. Auditions don’t just happen all of a sudden.”
“Two weeks. That’s why I’ve been so stoked lately. I should’ve told you, I know, but I... well, I was afraid of jinxing it.”
“Mr. Superstitious. Okay, never mind. Wouldn’t be the S.F. Symphony, would it? You tell me that, I’m liable to wet myself.”
“No, but almost as good.” The grin flickered. He took another hit of his Scotch. “The conductor, Mr. Greenbaum, and his orchestra manager came up from L.A. just to hear me play.”