“How are you?” Griffin asked.
“I only got one thing,” the boy said.
“What’s that?”
“Can I tell you in your ear?”
Griffin leaned his head down, and the boy whispered, “Can you take away my breasts?”
Griffin leaned back, stared into the boy’s eyes in an effort not to stare directly at his chest. But the boy was right—there they were.
“Well,” Griffin said.
“Can you?”
“What’s your name?”
“Estevan.”
“And you’re how old?”
“Six.”
“Well, here’s what I can promise you. You are going to grow and change a lot, Estevan. In your body and also in your mind and in your heart. And the way you are now is not the way you’ll always be. Okay?”
“Okay.” His face still full of sadness.
“Any toys you want this year?”
“Not really. Well, I want a puppy, but don’t bring me that, because my dad, he said he’d take him out the Kennedy Expressway and leave him. So don’t bring me one.”
Ernie was right. Some kids broke your heart. “How about something else?” Griffin asked.
“Well, you usually forget. So…”
“Well, here’s a gift I’ll give you now,” Griffin said. “I’ll tell you that I can see what kind of man you could be when you grow up. I believe that if you just try, you’ll be a great man.”
“…I don’t know,” the boy said.
“I believe you have a lot of power inside. You can feel it sometimes, can’t you?”
There, a light in his eyes. “Yes. Sometimes.”
“I want you to trust in that, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And here are some orders. I want you to take good care of yourself, every day!”
“Okay!”
“I want you to eat your vegetables!”
The boy giggled. “Okay!”
“Now. Who’s your best friend?”
Uh oh. Bad question. The boy shrugged, stared at the floor.
“I’ll tell you something in your ear,” Griffin said. And as the boy held still, he whispered, “I’ll be your best friend. It’s our secret, okay?”
The boy smiled, nodded.
“How about a picture of you and me together?”
The boy looked over at his mother, an unhappy looking woman standing off to the side. “I can’t,” he said. “She said we can’t pay for that.”
“This one’s free,” Griffin said. He would pay for it. “I’ll let my friend over there know that this one’s free. And you take the picture home and put it somewhere special, will you?”
The boy turned to look into Griffin’s eyes. “Yes, sir.” He stood up, then turned back to say, “Can I have your autograph on my arm?” He handed Griffin a pen, and, after he signed, whooped and ran down the steps toward his mother, who was smiling now.
The line stayed long until Griffin’s shift was up. Finally, exhausted, he said goodbye to the last child and stood up from his chair. He was filled with a sadness he couldn’t explain. He walked over to Donna to say good night, and she looked up at him, smiling. Then, seeing his expression, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Tired, I guess. My arms are killing me.”
Donna called out to her assistant that she’d be right back, then walked with Griffin as he headed back to the dressing room. “It’s…this belief they have,” he said. “And the things most of them want. I thought they’d have lists six miles long. But they don’t. Most of them don’t ask for much at all.”
“And you wish you could give every single one of them what they want, right?”
He smiled at her ruefully. “Actually, it’s more selfish than that. I wish I could buy a video game and have it fill the void.”
“That doesn’t fill it, not even for them,” Donna said. “Come on, you know that. We’re full of false bottoms from the day we’re born.”
He reached the door of the changing room, and turned to Donna. He started to speak, then stopped.
But she heard him anyway. “Why don’t you just ask her to try again, Griffin?”
He said nothing.
“What have you got to lose?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ask her.”
She touched his hand, smiled, and walked away. In the air, the lingering scent of her perfume, like a last kiss.
Chapter 25
Griffin pulled up outside of Ellen’s apartment, turned off the engine, and sat quietly, thinking. He could hear the tick-tick-tick of the engine as it cooled, the sound of the traffic at the busy intersection on the corner. Her lights were on, and he watched for a while to see if he could see anyone moving about. No one.
He opened the car door, stepped out, and saw his shadow against the sidewalk. He’d forgotten that he hadn’t changed out of his costume, and he was startled, at first, by what he saw on the ground. Then, enjoying the unexpected sight of his alternate persona, he tipped his hat to himself.
He didn’t want to knock on the door and risk being unwelcome. He wanted only to see her. He crept silently up to the living room window. She was on the sofa, talking on the phone. Zoe was nowhere in sight—asleep in the other room, Griffin supposed. Ellen’s face was serious, and the responses she was giving were brief. Who was she talking to? When they lived together, he could mouth this familiar, domestic question, and she would mouth back the response. Now it was no longer his business. Her face grew angry, she said a few words into the phone and hung up, then sat with her forehead in her hands.
This could be good. This could be very good. It had to be a fight between her and Peter. Griffin’s spirits lifted, and he became emboldened—he would let her know he was here, after all. He would knock on the window rather than go to the door. That might be romantic. Ellen would like that. He raised his hand to knock, but then Ellen picked up the phone and dialed. Now her face was soft and conciliatory. Come over, she’d be saying. I’m sorry.
He sat down on the ground and sighed, his back against the house. But it was cold and uncomfortable, and he got back up and looked through the window again. She was still talking, smiling now. He watched her for a while, nodding, listening. Yes, she was saying. Another nod. Yes.
Damn it. He reached up and knocked at the window. Ellen jumped, pulled her sweater tighter around her, said something into the phone. Then she lay the receiver down and moved cautiously to the window. She was frightened; her eyes were wide, her fists clenched.
Griffin took his hat off and pointed to himself. “It’s only me,” he said loudly.
She opened the window. “Griffin! What are you doing?”
“Are you on the phone?”
“Well, I guess if you’ve been standing there watching me, you know that. What are you doing? You scared me to death!”
So much for his ideas about her ideas about romance. “Who are you talking to?”
She sighed. “My mother. We had a little fight. Now we’re making up. If you must know.”
His feet were cold, and the tips of his fingers. “Can I come in?”
She stared at him. “Why? What do you want?”
He shrugged. “Cold out here.”
“Oh, all right, come in.”
After she opened the door, she went to the phone and said, “It was only Griffin, Mom. I’ll call you tomorrow.” A pause while she listened, and then, “No. Goodbye.”
“What were you fighting about?”
“Nothing. What are you doing here, Griffin?”
“I was in the neighborhood. Is Zoe asleep?”
“Yes. Why are you still dressed up?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t feel like changing.”
“Well…” She held her hand out. “Give me your coat. Would you like some tea?”
He followed her into the kitchen. “Sure.”
She filled the kettle, stood on tiptoe to reach the box of tea in her high cupbo
ard. She set out two cups, then sat opposite him, folded her hands. “I’m glad you came over. I have something to tell you.”
Oh, Jesus. They were getting married.
“Peter and I are…over.”
At first, expecting the news he had, what she actually said did not register. But then it did.
“You’re kidding.”
She looked down into her empty cup.
“But…he’s why you left!”
She looked up. “No. He’s one of the reasons I left.”
He searched her face. What did this mean? “So…are you sure, Ellen?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, I am. I am quite sure.”
“Well…who got the puppy?”
“Zoe did. He’s in there sleeping with her. They ran around all day—they’re both just zonked.” She looked at Griffin and her eyes filled. “I’m tired, too. I’m so amazingly tired.”
“I can see that.”
She put her face into her hands. “And I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He wasn’t sure he could touch her. He reached out a hand toward her, then pulled it back. “Ellen.”
She looked up suddenly, dry-eyed. “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing.” Behind her, the teakettle whistled, and she went over to turn off the flame. “Do you really want tea?”
“No.”
“Me either.” She sat down again. “See? I knew that.”
“I know you did.”
Silence.
And then she said, “I wake up a hundred times every night. And every day, hours before I go to work, I clean. Isn’t it clean in here?”
Griffin looked around. “Yes, it is.”
“That’s right, because that’s what I do, is clean.”
Silence again, but for the dripping of the tap. And then she said, “All of my clothes are organized according to color.”
He stared at her blankly. What did she want? “Uh huh.”
“I clean my cleaning products, Griffin. All the bottles and cans, I wipe them all off.”
“…Why?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know! I think I’m like Lady Macbeth, trying to wash the guilt away.”
“Ellen. Do you want to come home? Let’s get Zoe and go home.”
“I can’t do that, Griffin.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t do that. Something happened. I can’t just come home.”
“You can.”
“Well, I won’t then. Put it that way.”
Griffin closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead. What was on TV tonight?
“Do you want to know what happened with Peter?” Her voice was soft, itself again.
“I don’t know…. I guess. Fine, what happened?”
“He’s not what I thought. I was so wrong about him. I thought he was part of what I needed to move toward. To become. And then as soon as I moved here, everything about him was wrong. He got up and ate in the middle of every night like a weird person. He doesn’t understand children. He pretends to, but he doesn’t. He…He…” She began to cry again. “Oh, Griffin, I just don’t know how I can ever…”
“Ellen. You screwed up. I screwed up, too. Just come home. Come on. We’ll work this out.”
“How can you say that? How can you even stand me anymore?”
“I feel bad for you. I think you made a mistake. I think it’s okay to forgive someone who makes a mistake.”
“But there were things wrong with us, Griffin, and those things are still there, they will still be there!”
“Well, then we’ll fix them together.”
The door to the bedroom opened, and Zoe came out, followed by a small black puppy. “Dad?” She rubbed her eyes. “Hey. You’re in your Santa suit. What are you doing here, Dad?”
Ellen scooped up the puppy. “I’ll take him out,” she said.
“Stay here,” Griffin said. “I’ll do it.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
Griffin took the puppy out to the yard, stood with his hands in his coat pockets while the dog sniffed, took a few steps, and then sniffed some more. “Come on,” Griffin said, and, as though on cue, the dog squatted, then rose and ran toward the house.
“Good boy!” Griffin said, picking him up and petting him. He would be very good about not holding anything against the dog. He would be very fair.
When he came back inside, Ellen said, “She’s back in bed. She wants you to tuck her in.”
Zoe lay with the covers pulled up to her nose. Griffin sat on the small bed—it wasn’t much more than a cot, really—and put the puppy into her arms. “Looks like you got your brother, huh?”
“What are you doing here, Dad?”
“I came to visit. Is that okay?”
“Yes. But I’m coming home tomorrow.”
“I know you are.”
She stared at him, yawned hugely, then said, “Dad? Can you get me a drink?”
He went into the kitchen, took one of the empty mugs from the counter, and filled it with water. By the time he gave it to Zoe, she was half asleep again. “Thanks.” She turned over, and was out.
Back in the living room, Griffin sat on the sofa beside Ellen. “I’m so ashamed,” she said quietly. “I can’t imagine how all of this came about. One thing, then another, then this awful kind of momentum…”
Griffin said nothing, stared at his hands on his knees.
“And now I’ve gone and screwed Zoe up, too.”
“She’s not screwed up. She’s stronger than that.”
“I think she’s just being careful. To not let us see. I think she’s trying to take care of us. And that just kills me, Griffin.”
“Well, if you don’t want to come home, what do you want to do, Ellen?”
“I don’t know. Griffin? How long since you stopped wearing your ring?”
It occurred to him to lie to her about what he had done. But he didn’t. He told her. He also told her that he’d regretted it, and had tried to find the ring, but could not.
“I see,” she said. And then, “Maybe you’d better go, now.”
“Ellen—”
“I want you to go, please.”
He did not look at her on the way out, nor did he look back at her apartment as he pulled away. He wanted a psychic shower, a feeling of all of her sliding off of him and heading down a drain.
Chapter 26
In the last days before Christmas, Griffin volunteered for more hours than he’d been scheduled for. He and Ellen continued to “share” Zoe, and the evenings when his daughter was gone were better spent in the company of other people. Otherwise, it was hours of mind-numbing television, bowls of potato chips and bottles of beer, and visits to the bedroom with the Victoria’s Secret catalogue in hand—the mild elevation of mood going in not worth the empty despair he felt coming out, and certainly not worth the abject foolishness he felt washing up. All things considered, better to impersonate a saint.
Daily, the lines of children stretched around the corner, until, from his vantage point, he could never tell anymore how many were waiting. Babies cried and flirted, siblings fought, and parents bent over to whisper admonitions between clenched teeth. Legions of small, solitary figures of varying heights stood quietly holding their jackets, staring straight ahead. Many parents fussed and carried on, preparing their children for the photos—“Smile like we talked about, honey; remember what we said?”—but most grandparents relaxed and let the children have a good time. A woman brought her toy poodle, decked out in red ribbons and green nail polish, to be photographed with Santa; Griffin held the perfumed creature while “Mommy” brushed her just one more time.
Three days before Christmas, Griffin drove to Ellen’s apartment to pick up Zoe. It was five o’clock and he was starving—he’d skipped lunch. He wished he hadn’t promised Zoe she could help make dinner that night—he wanted to stop at the Cozy Corner and eat quickly. But in the overly solicitous way of single parents, he decided not to risk doing anything that wou
ld disappoint Zoe.
He and Ellen hadn’t talked much since he’d last sat in her kitchen with her. They had exchanged only necessary pieces of information regarding logistics. He didn’t want to intrude, but he was worried about Ellen. She was pale, too thin. Last time she’d leaned over to put Zoe’s head between her hands and kiss her goodbye, he’d noticed her hands were shaking.
Zoe answered the door when he knocked, then put her fingers to her lips. “Shhh! Mommy’s sleeping.” Ellen was stretched out on the couch, an old sweater covering her.
“I’ll get my stuff,” Zoe whispered. “Don’t wake her up; she’s really sleepy.”
Griffin waited, his hands in his pockets, while Zoe collected her things, leashed the puppy, and put on her coat. She tiptoed over to the sofa, pulled the sweater up higher over Ellen’s shoulders, and nodded at Griffin. “Ready,” she whispered.
“I’m going to tell her we’re leaving.” Griffin said.
“Shhhhhhh!”
“No, Zoe, we have to tell her. Otherwise she’ll wake up and you’ll be gone and she’ll be worried.”
“No, she won’t! She knows you’re coming!”
Their argument was settled by Ellen awakening, sitting up quickly, and pushing the hair off her face. “Oh! Oh, I must have…I fell asleep! Is it time already?”
Griffin nodded. “Yeah. Hi.”
“Hi.” That little slice of shyness. She looked around the room. “Do you have all your things, Zoe?”
“Yes. And I told Dad not to wake you up. Twice.”
“It’s okay.” She smiled at Griffin. “How are things at the North Pole?”
“Busy. Tomorrow’s my last day.”
“Well, I’ll be here all day—bring Zoe back whenever you want.”
“What are you doing for Christmas?” Griffin asked.
“I…don’t know. I’m not sure.”
“Zoe,” Griffin said. “Can you wait for me outside? Give Nipper a chance to go out before we put him in the car?”
“I know,” she said. “You can’t fool me.”
“What?” Griffin asked.