Daniel'll have to eat Spaghetti O's for the next few weeks.
Pleasure to meet you, Henry."
"Likewise, sir."
When Randy Linwood left, I heard a brief scuffle come from another room. Looking through the doorway, I saw two pairs of eyes peering at me from between the slats on a staircase. Just as quickly as they appeared, the legs they were attached to ran back up the stairs, whispers following.
"James and Tasha," Shelly said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, the red still there. "They're not really sure how to deal with all of this. We're so happy, but all this…attention, it's not what they're used to. They deal with it in their own way."
"I can't imagine going through what you've been through.
But I have to say, Mrs. Linwood, you're handling it well."
"I'd say thank you, but it's not on purpose."
"Have the police been helpful?"
"Oh, my, incredibly so. I actually thought it'd be much worse, but they've barely spent more than half an hour here since Danny came back. In fact, when the senator came, that's the first time I saw more than two of them at the same time." I found that strange, but allowed Shelly to continue. She paused for a moment, said softly, "We're just so glad to have Daniel back. It's like, a wave crashing over you when you're ready to burst into flame. I can't explain it. All I know is I love him now more than I ever did."
Without thinking, my hand went to my briefcase and I started to unlatch it. My eyes snapped back to Shelly, a sheepish grin on my face.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'd kind of like to keep the tape recorder running, if you don't mind. Things like that, what you just said, they'd add a lot to the story. I don't want the piece to be just about Daniel and how his return has affected him, but what it's meant to your family. How it affects you, your husband, your other children." Shelly smiled, nodded once. I took out the recorder, raised my eyebrows, clicked it on.
"Are you recording now?" she asked.
"I am."
"So this will go in your interview?"
I laughed. "Not everything. Not what you just said, only if it relates to Daniel and your family."
"Can you print swear words?" she asked.
"Uh…no."
"Okay, I curse sometimes and I don't want Daniel to get embarrassed by his potty-mouthed mother."
I smiled at her.
Behind Shelly, I noticed a row of photographs lining a gray shelf. Inside the frames were pictures of the Linwood family. Most of the photos had just four people in them.
Shelly, Randy, James and Tasha. Two pictures had been placed in front of the others. One was of all five Linwoods:
Randy, Shelly, Tasha, James and Daniel. It looked like a photo from a Christmas card, all five bundled in warm sweaters, posed on a couch with smiles as big as they could muster.
"The last photo we took as a family," Shelly said.
"Tasha was only a year old."
"It's beautiful," I said. Then I looked at the photo next to it.
The picture was of their daughter, Tasha, when she was just a child, maybe one or two years old. Tasha wasn't facing the camera. Her head and body were turned away, short blond hair caught in the wind. There was nothing particularly photogenic about the pic, nothing that seemed extraordinary.
"Tasha's birthday," Shelly was quick to point out.
"There was a leak in the basement. We lost so many photo albums. This is the only one we could save. Not the best shot, but it's what's in it that matters. She's just so carefree."
I smiled back at her. "Should we get Daniel?"
Shelly bit her lip, then relaxed. "Have a seat. I'll be right back."
I sat down on the couch. An oak coffee table separated me from a chair where I assumed Daniel would sit. The couch was dark brown, microfiber, half a dozen stains of varying color and size spattered about. A silver robot peeked out from beside the television set, and a few stray doll hairs were tucked between the cushions. The
Linwoods' living room was well worn, well used. The photos on the mantel didn't look like they were placed there for Senator Talbot. I could tell from the dust patterns and slightly faded wood surrounding them that they were barely ever moved. That photo of Tasha, though, captivated my interest. It just seemed so out of place.
I placed the tape recorder on the coffee table; better to keep it in plain sight than unnerve Daniel by taking it out after he'd settled down. I breathed easy. Waited.
I heard Shelly say, "Come on, sweetheart," and into the room stepped a young boy. He was a little over five feet tall, with dark, tousled hair and hazel eyes. Those eyes appeared less curious than slightly fearful, as though he was being led through a curtain into somewhere unknown.
His cheeks bore a few freckles that surely got him teased as a kid, but in ten years would make him look cute, even handsome. His limbs were gangly, face thin. I remembered my growth spurt at about the same age, thinking I'd end up being eight feet tall and starting at center for the
Lakers. Of course neither happened. For a moment I believed Daniel's tentativeness was directed toward me, but then I realized that there was a gap of nearly five years in this boy's memory. He wasn't just feeling me out, but his whole life.
Shelly kept her hands on his shoulders, gentle but muscles tensed, as though he could topple over at any moment and shatter. Daniel's only hesitation was in his gait, otherwise he looked like a regular boy, ready to lose himself in too much homework, too many video games, and the dreams of years he had yet to know.
"Hey, Daniel," I said, standing up slightly, trying to make him relax. "I'm Henry. It's nice to meet you."
"Danny," he said. "Just Danny." No hesitation there. I saw a frown glimmer across Shelly's face, but she said nothing.
"Danny," I said. "Well, Danny, thanks for letting me talk to you." His nod said he wasn't quite as happy as me.
He smiled tentatively, sat down in a wicker-backed chair across the table from me. "Could I have a soda?" he said to Shelly. She was up and heading to the kitchen before the question was finished. When she'd disappeared, he looked at the tape recorder. "Is that thing on?"
"Yeah, it is. See that red light?" He nodded. "That means it's on."
"So it's recording what I'm saying right now?"
"That's right."
"Okay. Shit." I looked up at him. Danny had a mischievous grin on his face, slightly red with embarrassment.
"Sorry, just wanted to, you know…"
"Yeah, I know."
"That won't be in your story, will it?"
"Nah. I'll keep the uncensored version for my personal files."
Shelly came back in carrying a tray with a glass of soda, another glass of water and a plate of assorted vegetables.
Danny and I shared a smirk. Then I noticed what else was on the tray: a gauze pad, a bottle of what appeared to be rubbing alcohol, a cylindrical tube the size of a pen and a vial.
Shelly noticed me looking at this and said, "Daniel, sorry, Danny has diabetes. I thought it'd be good to give him his insulin before you got started."
"Fine with me," I said. "Danny?"
He nodded. Shelly said, "We did your arm this morning, right? Let's go with your leg."
Danny rolled up his right pant leg, exposing his calf.
Shelly inserted the vial into the pen until it clicked. Then she unscrewed the cap from the rubbing alcohol, tipping just enough onto the gauze pad to wet it. She rubbed the pad on Danny's calf until it shone. Then she took the pen, pressed it against his skin and depressed the plunge. Danny winced slightly.
Shelly removed the pen, wiped down Danny's leg with a towel, then took the materials back into the kitchen.
Danny rolled down his pant leg as Shelly returned.
"Sucks," he said. "Dr. Petrovsky says I have to take it three times a day."
"Petrovsky?" I said.
"Dmitri Petrovsky. He's Daniel's pediatrician," Shelly answered.