Two by Two

  "Get in the bath, London," I warned through the door. "If you don't, I'll make you clean the hamster cage all by yourself."

  I heard her scream again; a minute later, though, I heard her climbing into the tub. I continued to wait. After a little while, I heard her playing with her tub toys without the anger I'd heard earlier. Finally, the door opened; London was in her pajamas, her hair wet.

  "Can we dry my hair tonight instead of leaving it wet?"

  I gritted my teeth. "Of course we can, sweetheart."

  "I miss Mommy."

  I squatted down and took her in my arms, breathing in the sweet-clean scent of her soap and shampoo. "I know you do," I said, and held her close, wondering how a father as messed up as I could have managed to help make something so wonderful, even as my little girl began to cry.

  I read her the story of Noah and the ark as we lay in the bed together. Her favorite part, the part I had to read a second time, was when the ark was finished and the animals started to arrive.

  "Two by two," I read aloud, "they came in pairs, from all over the world. Lions and horses and dogs and elephants, zebras and giraffes..."

  "And hamsters," London added.

  "And hamsters," I agreed, "and two by two, they boarded the ark. How will they all fit, the people wondered. But God had a plan for that, too. They made their way onto the ark and there was plenty of room, and all the animals were happy. And two by two, they stayed in the ark while the rain began to fall."

  As I was finishing the story, London was fading. I turned out the light and kissed her cheek.

  "I love you, London," I whispered.

  "Love you, too, Daddy," she mumbled, and I crept quietly from the room.

  Two by two, I thought to myself as I made my way down the stairs. London and me, father and daughter, both of us doing the best we could.

  Even then, I felt like I was failing her, failing at everything.

  CHAPTER 8

  New Experiences

  Last February, when things were going from bad to worse for me at the agency, London got the flu, and it wasn't pretty. She threw up pretty much nonstop for two days, and we had to bring her to the hospital to stop the vomiting and administer fluids.

  I was scared. Vivian was too, though on the surface, she exuded a lot more confidence with the doctors than I did. When she spoke to them, she was calm and cool while asking appropriate questions.

  London didn't have to stay overnight, and when we brought her home, Vivian sat with her until midnight. Because she'd been awake pretty much the entire night the evening before, I took over. Like Vivian, I sat in the rocking chair and held my daughter. She was still feverish and I can remember how small and frail she felt, wrapped in a thin blanket and sweating and shivering at the same time. She woke every twenty minutes. Sometime around six, I finally put her in bed and went downstairs for coffee. An hour later, when I was pouring yet another cup, London padded into the kitchen and took a seat at the table beside Vivian. London moved lethargically and her face was pale.

  "Hi, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"

  "I'm hungry," London responded.

  "That's a good sign," Vivian said. She put her hand on London's forehead, held it, then smiled. "I think your fever's gone."

  "I feel a little better."

  "Russ? Would you put some Cheerios in a bowl? Without milk?"

  "Sure," I said.

  "Let's try cereal without the milk, okay? I don't want your tummy to get upset."

  I brought the Cheerios to the table along with my coffee and took a seat beside them.

  "You were really sick," I said. "Your mom and I have been really worried about you."

  "And we're going to take it easy today, okay?"

  London nodded as she munched. I was glad to see her eating.

  "Thanks for holding me when I was sick, Mommy."

  "Of course, sweet girl. I always hold you when you're sick."

  "I know," London said.

  I took a sip of coffee, waiting for Vivian to say that I'd helped out as well.

  But she didn't.

  Kids are resilient. I know this because my mom and dad have used that expression for as long as I can remember, especially when describing their own parenting philosophy to Marge and me. Why, why, why did you do such things to us? we would ask. Ah, no worries. Kids are resilient.

  In all fairness, there was some truth to their words. When London came downstairs on Sunday morning, she seemed to have forgotten completely about her tantrum from the night before. She was in a chatty mood and was even happier when I let her have Lucky Charms while I went upstairs to clean her hamster cage. I filled half a plastic bag with soiled shavings--it was disgusting--and tossed it into the garbage can. In the far corner, I saw London's bicycle and, though it was already getting hot outside, I knew what she and I could do this morning.

  "Hey," I said to London when I got back inside. "Do you want to do something fun this morning?

  "What?" she asked.

  "Why don't we go bike riding again? Maybe without the training wheels."

  "I'll fall," she said.

  "I promise that you won't fall. I'll be right beside you and I'll hold on to the seat."

  "I haven't ridden a bike in a long time."

  And never without training wheels, I thought. "That's okay. If you don't like it or you get scared, we can stop."

  "I'm not scared," she said. "But Mommy won't like it if I'm all sweaty."

  "If you get sweaty, you'll just wash up. No big deal. Do you want to give it a try?"

  She thought about it. "Maybe for a little while," she hedged. "When's Mommy coming home?"

  As if my wife heard our daughter from miles away, my cell phone rang. Vivian's name popped up on the screen. "Well, let's find out. It's your mom," I said, reaching for it. "She must have been thinking about you." I connected the call and hit the speaker. "Hey, babe. How are you? How did it go? I've got you on speaker and London is here."

  "Hey, baby girl!" Vivian said. "How are you! I'm so sorry I didn't call you yesterday. I've been running around like crazy since I've been here. How are you? How was yesterday?"

  "It was so much fun," London answered. "I went to Nana's and then Daddy and me and Auntie Marge and Auntie Liz went to see a movie, and it was really funny..."

  While Vivian chatted with London, I refilled my coffee and motioned that I was going back to the bedroom to change. I tossed on some shorts and a T-shirt and the pair of shoes I used to wear to the gym. Back in the kitchen, London was telling her mom about the hamsters and Vivian finally asked for me.

  I picked up the phone, taking it off speaker.

  "Hey there," I said.

  "She's in a good mood. Sounds like you two have been having a lot of fun. I'm jealous."

  I hesitated, thinking about last night. "It's been okay. How did last night go on your end?"

  "Amazingly, it went off without a hitch. Walter was thrilled. The video presentations were great and so was the music. People went crazy for it."

  "I'm glad it worked out."

  "It did. We raised a lot of money. Turns out Walter isn't the only one who's frustrated with the current administration and Congress when it comes to development. The regulations are getting ridiculous. Developers are really getting squeezed, and it's almost impossible to turn a profit anymore."

  As evidenced by Walter's private jet, I thought. "What time will you be home?"

  "I'm hoping around one. But we may be having lunch with a developer from Mississippi. If that happens, it'll probably be closer to three."

  "Hold on for a second," I said. I moved from the kitchen to the living room. "What about the blueberry farm?"

  "I don't know if we'll be able to make it."

  "But you promised London you'd go."

  "I didn't promise."

  "I was right there, Viv. I heard you. And I backed you up last night."

  "What does that mean?"

  I recounted what had happened the night b
efore.

  "Well, that's just great," she said. "You shouldn't have reminded her."

  "You're saying this is my fault?"

  "She's going to be even more upset."

  "Because you said you'd take her."

  "Just stop, Russ, okay? I was on the go for almost twenty hours straight and I've had almost no sleep. Just talk to her, okay? Explain it to her."

  "What do you want me to tell her?"

  "Please don't use that tone with me. I'm not the one who set up the lunch. I'm at Walter's mercy here, and there's a lot of money at stake."

  "Spannerman already has a lot of money. He's a billionaire."

  I heard her let out a long exhale. "Like I told you," she said, her voice taut. "I still might make it. If the lunch doesn't work out, I'll be home by one. I should know more in an hour or two."

  "All right," I said, thinking about London. "Let me know."

  I decided not to tell London anything until I knew more and she followed me outside, watching as I got things ready. Because the bike was covered in dust, I brought out the hose and rinsed it, then toweled it dry. I pumped the tires and made sure there were no major leaks. After that, I had to hunt for a wrench--why do tools always seem to vanish?--and removed the training wheels. Because London had grown, I raised the seat and handlebars, and when it was finally ready, London followed me out to the street and hopped on.

  "Do you remember what to do?" I said, adjusting her helmet.

  "I'm supposed to pedal," she said. "But you're not going to let go, right?"

  "I won't let go until you're ready."

  "What if I'm not ready?"

  "Then I won't let go."

  London began to pedal and wobbled to the left and right as I held the seat, jogging while bent at the waist. Soon I was breathing hard and sweat began to drip. Then pour. We went back and forth countless times and just when it felt like I was going to have to tell her that I needed a break, her balance began to improve, at least on the straightaways. Little by little, I was able to lessen my grip on the seat. After that, I was able to use only my fingers, just enough to be able to grab her if she tilted.

  And then, I was able to let go.

  Not long at first--only a few seconds--and the next time was about the same. Then, when I thought she was ready, I said the magic words.

  "I'm going to let go for a second," I gasped.

  "No, Daddy!"

  "You can do it! Just try! I'll be right here to catch you!" I let go of the seat and sped up, jogging beside the bike for no more than a second or two. London saw me, her face a picture of wonder, and then I resumed my original position and took hold of her seat again.

  "I was riding, Daddy!" she shouted. "Without your help!"

  I held the seat as we turned around at the end of the cul-de-sac, and when she was balanced, I let go again, that time for five or six seconds. Then a span of ten seconds. Then she cruised the entire straightaway.

  "I'm riding, Daddy! I'm riding a bike!" she squealed, and though I was sweating hard and out of breath and felt like I was dying, I was somehow able to shout back, "I know, sweetheart! You're riding a bike!"

  By the time London was ready to quit, my entire body hurt and my shirt was soaked through. I rolled the bike into the garage and followed London inside; the blast of air-conditioning was the very proof of God's existence.

  "Daddy needs a break," I said, still trying to catch my breath.

  "Okay, Daddy," she said. I went to the bathroom and hopped in a shower with the water somewhere between cool and cold. I stayed beneath the spray until I finally felt halfway human, then dressed again and went to the kitchen.

  There was a text from Vivian.

  Lunch was canceled. I'm heading to the airport now. Tell London I'll be home soon.

  I found London in the living room, playing with her Barbies.

  "Your mom's on her way home," I said. "She should be here in a little while."

  "Okay," London said, sounding strangely unmoved.

  I put together a salad and grilled the salmon for Vivian while I made sandwiches for London and me. By the time Vivian walked in the door, the table was set and the food was on the table.

  After a round of hugs and kisses for London, she came to the kitchen and kissed me as well.

  "Wow," she remarked. "That's a pretty fancy meal for lunch."

  "I had the food here, so I figured why not? How was the flight?"

  "Amazing. It's so nice not having to deal with parking or security or shoving suitcases into the overhead bins. Private jets are definitely the way to travel."

  "I'll keep that in mind when I begin making millions."

  "What did you and London do this morning?"

  "I got the bike out of the garage."

  "Yeah?" she asked. "How was she?"

  "She was getting pretty good by the end."

  "Better you than me," she said. "It's hot out there today."

  "It wasn't so bad this morning," I lied.

  "Did you remember to put sunscreen on her?"

  "No," I said. "I forgot."

  "You have to try to remember these things. You know how much the sun can damage her skin."

  "I'll remember that next time."

  She kissed me again and as we had lunch, she told me about her weekend and talked to London about her activities the previous week. Afterward Vivian and London went to the car while I tidied up the kitchen.

  For the first time since Tuesday, London wasn't with me. I would have worked but there wasn't anything to do, and while I thought I would enjoy my quiet afternoon, I found myself puttering around the house and thinking about London, surprised by how much I missed her.

  Vivian and London got back home around five, carrying department store bags. There wasn't a smudge of dirt on my daughter's hands or face.

  "Did you go to the farm?" I asked.

  "No," Vivian answered, setting the bags on the table. "It was way too hot out there this afternoon. We ended up going to the mall. London needed some school clothes."

  Of course she did.

  Before we could speak more about it, Vivian breezed past me to the kitchen. I followed and tried to engage in conversation, but it was clear that Vivian was edgy and in no mood to mumble more than one-word answers. In the end, she made pasta and sauteed vegetables for London and me, along with a salad for herself, and dinner was eaten quickly. It wasn't until we were loading the dishes into the dishwasher that I finally asked her what was wrong.

  "You didn't tell me that you took the training wheels off her bike today. And that by riding her bike, you meant actually riding her bike."

  "Sorry about that," I said. "I thought you understood."

  "How was I supposed to know what you meant? You weren't very clear."

  "Are you upset?"

  "Yes, I'm upset. Why wouldn't I be upset?"

  "I'm not sure why you would be."

  "Because I wasn't there. Did it ever cross your mind that I might have liked to have seen London riding her bike for the first time?"

  "She's still just a beginner. She can't do the turns yet without tipping over."

  "So? The issue is that you went ahead and taught her to ride a bike without me. Why didn't you wait until I got home?"

  "I didn't think about it."

  She grabbed a dish towel and began drying her hands. "That's exactly your problem, Russ. You do this every time. Our whole life has always been about what you wanted."

  "That's not true," I protested. "And how was I supposed to know you'd even want to watch? You didn't want the bike in the first place."

  "Of course I wanted London to have a bike! Why would you think that? I'm the one who bought it for her for Christmas."

  I stared at her, thinking, I had to drag you to the store. Did she really not remember it that way? Or was I going crazy?

  As I pondered the question, she turned to leave. "Where are you going?" I asked.

  "London needs a bath," she said. "You don't mind if I spend a
little time with my daughter, do you?"

  She left the kitchen, her words ricocheting in my mind.

  My daughter?

  After London went to bed, Vivian and I sat on the couch, the television tuned to the Food Network. Vivian was sipping a glass of wine. I thought again about bringing up the day care issue, but I wasn't sure whether or not she still angry about the bike riding incident. Her eyes flicked toward me with a quick smile, then back to her magazine. Better than being ignored, I supposed.

  "Hey Viv?" I asked.

  "Hmm?"

  "I'm sorry you missed watching London's first bike ride. I really didn't think it was that big of a deal."

  She seemed to consider my words and I watched her shoulders drop slightly.

  "It's all right. I just wish I had been there to see it. I hate that I wasn't."

  "I understand that. I've missed a lot of firsts over the years, too."

  "But you're not her mom. It's different for mothers."

  "I guess so," I said, not completely sure about that. But there was no need to point that out.

  "Maybe tomorrow night, you can show me," she said, her voice soft, and I saw the Vivian that I'd fallen for so many years ago. It was uncanny, how my wife never seemed to age.

  "I'm glad your event went off without a hitch. I'll bet you already have your boss eating out of the palm of your hand."

  "Walter doesn't eat out of anyone's hand."

  "How's next week shaping up?"

  "I'll find out more tomorrow. I might have another overnight on Wednesday."

  "Another fund-raiser?"

  "No. This time it's a trip to D.C. And I know London's going to be upset again. It makes me feel like an awful mother."

  "You're not awful. And London knows you love her."

  "But it's her last summer before kindergarten, and she probably feels like I've abandoned her. She needs stability and right now, she's not getting it."

  "I'm doing my best."

  "I know you are. She told me that she likes spending time with you, but that it's weird."

  "She said it's weird for her?"

  "You know what she means. She's just used to me, that's all. It's been a big change for her. You know that."

  "I still don't like the word weird."

  "She's a child. She doesn't have a huge vocabulary. No big deal. You ready to hit the bedroom? We can put on the TV and relax."