Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [54]
“You hungry?”
“We’re having lunch up here?”
“You want to go down and come back up?”
“No!”
“Okay, then.”
He sits beside her and pulls out the lunch they packed together. Pita pockets and carrot and celery sticks and apples and brownies.
“What if you have to pee?”
He looks at her and raises an eyebrow.
“You do not!”
He shrugs.
“In broad daylight?”
“I face away from the street.”
“What about the neighbors?”
Another shrug.
“What am I supposed to do?” Alice asks.
“Skip the apple juice would be my advice.”
He lies back against the roof, stretches out like he’s at the beach, and closes his eyes.
“You’re napping?!”
He hands her his watch.
“Wake me up in ten minutes.”
“You have to be kidding me. You could—”
“But I won’t. Try it. Just lie back.”
“Dad—”
“Try it.”
She lies back against the shingles, bracing her hands flat against the roof, her fingernails digging into the asphalt, her feet positioned solidly on the scaffolding. She takes a shaky breath. After the first disorienting moment, it’s pretty nice actually. She looks over at her father and he’s grinning at her again.
“You’re showing off, aren’t you, Dad?”
“I might be showing off a little.”
“You always tell me not to show off.”
“Sometimes I guess it’s irresistible.”
“You really like it up here.”
“I love it up here.”
He closes his eyes.
“Ten minutes, okay?”
Alice carefully takes one hand away from where it is trying to grip the roof beside her and brings her arm up to where she can see her dad’s watch hanging loosely on her wrist. She notes the time: 12:01. At exactly 12:11 she will wake him up. If he’s really asleep. If he’s not just faking it. She likes it that he’s trying to impress her. She likes it that he cares about her opinion. And now that she’s not absolutely slick with fear, she’s almost glad he got her up here. On top of the world.
The girls come downstairs slowly, not knowing what to expect. Angie is still at the front door looking out at the street. She wants to get on a plane; she wants to call her senator, her state representative, and her congressman; she wants to call her mother. She wants to fall apart and have someone else take care of things. But that would not be the way Matt would handle this. He would take steps. He would hold it together.
Before he left she was under the illusion that they had talked about everything, every possible scenario; if he were wounded or killed. But this . . . this was never part of the picture. They didn’t plan for this.
She can feel the girls waiting behind her, waiting for her to turn around, waiting for her to know what to do, waiting for her to come up with a plan.
“Mom . . . ?” Ellie ventures.
Angie turns away from the street and looks at her girls. When she sees how frightened they are, her own fear threatens to rise up out of her in a howl.
One step at a time, Angie. Don’t think about tomorrow. Don’t project into the future. Take care of today. Take care of the here and now. Take care of the girls.
“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to ask ourselves what Daddy would want us to do. And then we’re going to do it.”
“Will he be all right?” Ellie asks.
“If anybody can come through this, Daddy can.”
“Do you believe that?” Alice asks.
“Yes,” Angie answers. “Yes, I do.”
“I want to help him,” Ellie says.
“How? I don’t see how,” Alice says.
“We can imagine our way to being near him,” Angie says. “We can imagine healing him, comforting him. Think about him. Believe in him.”
A flash of anger sears through Alice. Does her mother actually believe this crap? And then she looks at Ellie. Ellie is soaking this up. Suddenly Alice’s anger deflates and she wishes she could be eight again.
“I need something to do,” Ellie says.
“Go to school. Help at home. Make Daddy proud.”
“I don’t see how going to school will . . .” Alice trails off, uncertain.
Ellie closes her eyes.
“I’m thinking about Daddy right now.”
“Good.”
“Mom—”
“I’ll make dinner,” Angie says. “You girls can do your homework.”