“Well, I’ll be…Who woulda thought Carol would have kept this all these years.”
Sebastian looked over at Leo as the older man reached for an old globe from Cannon Beach, Oregon. A mermaid sat on a rock combing her blond hair while bits of glitter and shells floated about her.
“I bought this for your mother on our honeymoon.”
Sebastian grabbed a piece of newspaper and wrapped the Russian globe. “That’s one of her oldest. I didn’t know you gave it to her.”
“Yeah. At the time, I thought that mermaid looked like her.” His father glanced up. The deep lines at the corners of his eyes got even deeper and a faint smile played across his mouth. “Except your mother was about seven months pregnant with you.”
“Now that, I did know.” He set the globe in the box.
“She was so beautiful and full of life. A real corker.” Leo bent and grabbed a piece of paper. “She liked everything full-tilt, like a roller coaster, and I…” He paused and shook his head. “I liked calm.” He wrapped the globe. Over the sound of the paper he said, “Still do, I guess. You’re more like your mother than you are me. You like to chase lots of excitement.”
Not so much anymore. At least not as much as he had a few months ago. “Maybe I’m slowing down.”
Leo looked up at him.
“After this last trip, I’m seriously thinking about hanging up my passport. I have a few more assignments, and then I think I’ll go strictly freelance. Maybe take some time off.”
“What will you do?”
“I’m not sure. I just know I don’t want to take foreign assignments. At least for a while.”
“Can you do that, then?”
“Sure.” Talking about work kept his mind off what he was doing. He reached for a Reno, Nevada, globe and wrapped it up. “How’s the new Lincoln?”
“Rides like butter.”
“How’s Joyce?” he asked, not that he cared, but thinking about Joyce was better than thinking about what he was doing.
“Planning a big Christmas to-do. That always makes her happy.”
“It’s not even October.”
“Joyce likes to plan ahead.”
Sebastian set the wrapped globe in the box. “And Clare? Is she over her breakup with the gay guy?” he asked, just to keep up the small talk with the old man.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen much of her lately, but I doubt it. She’s a very sensitive girl.”
Which was yet one more reason to stay away from her. Sensitive girls liked long-term commitments. And he had never been the kind of guy to commit to anything long term. He reached for a Wizard of Oz globe with Dorothy and Toto following the yellow brick road. Even though it would never happen, he let his mind wonder to the possibility of spending a night or two with Clare. He wouldn’t mind getting her naked, and he was certain she’d benefit from a few rounds of sex. Get her to relax and lighten her up. Put a smile on her face for weeks.
In his hand, the first notes of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” began to play from the music box within the base of the globe. The Judy Garland classic was his mother’s favorite, and everything inside Sebastian stopped. A thousand tingles raced up his spine and tightened his scalp. The globe fell from his hands and smashed to the floor. Sebastian watched water splash his shoes, and Dorothy, Toto, and a dozen little flying monkeys washed across the floor. The detached front he’d kept inside his soul shattered like the broken glass at his feet. The one steady anchor in his life was gone. Gone, and she wasn’t coming back. She was never going to dust her snow globes or fuss about clashing shoes. He’d never hear her sing in her faulty soprano voice or nag him to come over for a haircut.
“Fuck.” He sank to the chair. “I can’t do this.” He was numb and charged at the same time, like he’d stuck a key in the light socket. “I thought I could, but I can’t pack her up like she’s never coming back.” The backs of his eyes stung and he swallowed hard. He placed his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands. A sound like a freight train clambered in his ears, and he knew it was from the pressure of holding it all back. He wasn’t going to cry like a hysterical woman. Especially not in front of the old man. If he could just hold it back for a few more seconds, it would pass and he’d be okay again.
“There’s no shame in loving your mother,” he heard his father say over the crashing in his head. “In fact, it’s a sign of a good son.” He felt his father’s hand on the back of his head, the weight heavy, familiar, comforting. “Your mother and I didn’t get along, but I know she loved you something fierce. She was like a pit bull when it came to you. And she never would admit that her boy did any wrong.”
That was true.
“She did a fine job raising you mostly on her own, and I always was grateful to her for that. The Good Lord knows I wasn’t around as much as I shoulda been.”
Sebastian pressed his palms against his eyes, then dropped his hands between his knees. He glanced up at his father standing next to him. He took a deep breath and the pinch behind his eyes eased. “She didn’t exactly make it easy.”
“Don’t make excuses for me. I could have fought more. I could have gone back to court.” His hand moved to Sebastian’s shoulder and he gave a little squeeze. “I could have done a lot of things. I should have done something, but I…I thought that the fighting wasn’t good and that there would be lots of time once you were older. I was wrong, and I regret that.”
“We all have regrets.” Sebastian had a ton of his own, but the weight of his father’s hand felt like an anchor in a suddenly vertiginous world. “Maybe we shouldn’t dwell on them. Just move on.”
Leo nodded and patted Sebastian’s back like when he’d been a boy. “Why don’t you go get yourself a Slurpee. That’ll make you feel better, and I’ll finish here.”
He smiled despite himself. “I’m thirty-five, Dad. I don’t get Slurpees anymore.”
“Oh. Well, go take a break and I’ll finish this room.”
Sebastian stood and wiped his hands down the front of his jeans. “No. I’ll go find a broom and a dustpan,” he said, grateful for his father’s steady presence in the house.
Eleven
The first week of December, a light snow dusted the streets of downtown Boise and covered the foothills in pristine white. Holiday wreaths hung suspended from lampposts, and storefront windows were decked out for the season. Bundled-up shoppers crowded the sidewalks.
On the corner of Eighth and Main, “Holly Jolly Christmas” played softly inside The Piper Pub and Grille, the muted Muzak a fraction or two lower than the steady hum of voices. Gold, green, and red garlands added a festive air to the second-story restaurant.
“Happy holidays.” Clare held up her peppermint mocha and lightly touched glasses with her friends. The four women had just finished lunch and were enjoying flavored coffee instead of dessert.
“Merry Christmas,” Lucy toasted.
“Happy Hanukkah,” Adele said, although she wasn’t Jewish.
To cover all bases, Maddie added, “Happy Kwanzaa,” although she wasn’t African American, Pan African, or had ever set foot in Africa.
Lucy took a drink and said as she lowered her glass mug, “Oh, I almost forgot.” She dug around in her purse hanging on the back of her chair, then pulled out several envelopes. “I finally remembered to bring copies of the picture of us all together at the Halloween party.” She handed an envelope to Clare, who sat on her right, and two others across the table.
Lucy and her husband, Quinn, had thrown a costume party in their new house on Quill Ridge overlooking the city. Clare slipped the photo from the envelope and glanced at the picture of her in a bunny costume standing beside her three friends. Adele had dressed as a fairy with large gossamer wings, Maddie as a Sherlock Holmes, and Lucy had worn a naughty cop outfit. The party had been a lot of fun. Just what Clare needed after a difficult two and a half months. By the end of October her heartache had started to mend a little, and she’d even been asked out by Darth Vader. Without his helmet, Darth had been attractive in a macho-cop sort of way. He’d had a job, all his teeth and hair, and appeared to be one-hundred-percent heterosexual. The old Clare would have accepted his invitation to dinner with the subconscious hope that one man would ease the loss of another. But though she’d been flattered, she said no. It had been too soon to date.