“Who’s not leaving?” Jonah interrupted. He’d just walked into the room, holding a glass of milk, and he turned from their mom to her. She could hear the panic in his voice.
“Are you staying here?” he asked.
It took a moment for Ronnie to answer as she wrestled her anger under control. “Yeah,” she said, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt. “I’m staying.”
He put his glass of milk on the dresser. “Then I’m staying, too,” he announced.
Her mom looked suddenly helpless, and though Ronnie could still feel the sharp edge of her anger, there was no way she was going to let Jonah watch his father die. She crossed the room and squatted down.
“I know you want to stay, but you can’t,” she said gently.
“Why not? You’re staying.”
“But I don’t have school.”
“So what? I can go to school here. Dad and I talked about it.”
Their mom moved toward them. “Jonah…”
Jonah suddenly backed away, and she could hear the panic rising in his voice as he realized he was outnumbered. “I don’t care about school! That’s not fair! I want to stay here!”
34
Steve
He wanted to surprise her. That had been his plan, anyway.
He’d played a concert in Albany; his next performance was scheduled in Richmond two days later. Normally, he never went home while on tour; it was easier to maintain a kind of rhythm as he traveled from city to city. But because he had a bit of extra time and hadn’t seen his family in two weeks, he caught a train and arrived in the city as the lunch crowd came streaming out of their office towers in search of something to eat.
It was pure coincidence that he saw her at all. Even now, the odds seemed so remote as to be impossible. It was a city of millions and he was near Penn Station, and he was walking past a restaurant that was already nearly full.
His first thought, when he saw her, was that the woman looked exactly like his wife. She was seated at a small table wedged against the wall, across from a gray-haired man who appeared to be a few years older than her. She was dressed in a black skirt and a red silk blouse and was running a finger over the rim of her wineglass. He captured all of that and did a quick double take. It actually was Kim, he realized, and she was dining with a man that he’d never seen before. Through the window, he watched as she laughed, and with a sinking certainty, he knew he’d seen that laugh before. He remembered it from years ago, back when things were better between them. When she rose from the table, he watched as the man stood and placed his hand on the small of her back. The man’s touch was tender, almost familiar, as though he’d done it hundreds of times before. She probably liked the way he touched her, Steve thought as he watched the stranger kiss his wife on the lips.
He wasn’t sure what to do, but thinking back, he couldn’t remember feeling much of anything. He knew they’d been distant with each other, he knew they’d been arguing too much, and he supposed that most men would have gone into the restaurant and confronted the two of them. Perhaps even made a scene. But he wasn’t like most men. So he shifted the small carry bag he’d packed the night before to his other hand, turned around, and headed back in the direction of Penn Station.
He caught a train two hours later and arrived in Richmond late that evening. As always, he picked up the phone to call his wife, and she answered on the second ring. He could hear the television in the background as she said hello.
“You finally made it, huh?” she asked. “I was wondering when you were going to call.”
As he sat on the bed, he pictured the stranger’s hand on the small of her back. “I just got in,” he said.
“Anything exciting happen?”
He was in a budget hotel, and the comforter was fraying slightly at the edges. There was an air conditioner beneath the window, and it rattled, making the curtains move. He could see dust coating the top of the television set.
“No,” he said. “Nothing exciting at all.”
In the hospital room, he remembered those images with a clarity that surprised him. He supposed it was because he knew Kim would be arriving soon, along with Ronnie and Jonah.
Ronnie had called him earlier to tell him that she wasn’t going back to New York. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He remembered his dad’s shrunken, emaciated figure toward the end, and he didn’t want his daughter to see him that way. But her mind was made up, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to change it. But it scared him.
Everything about this scared him.
He’d been praying regularly in the last couple of weeks. Or, at least, that’s how Pastor Harris had once described it. He didn’t clasp his hands or bow his head; he didn’t ask to be healed. He did, however, share with God the concerns he had regarding his children.