Bird in Hand - Christina Baker Kline [45]
In her mind Alison sees it clearly: the front of the car crumpling like foil, the boy moving forward, slipping from his mother’s grasp as she tries to hold on. The mother screams, the father cries out, but the boy is too startled to make a sound. There is just the sickening thud against the windshield, the smashing glass. For a moment there is silence. And then there is a keening wail, the only sound in all of this that Alison actually heard.
The boy hears the impact, feels himself being pulled forward, his mother’s hands tightening around his middle and then spreading open as he moves forward, closer to the raindrops on the windshield, the lights of the other car, the streetlights above and the darkness. He sees, out of the corner of his eye, his father turn toward him, and suddenly he is laughing. Daddy is home from work and freshly showered, damp and smelling of soap and toothpaste, wearing a clean, white T-shirt, throwing Marco into the air and letting him fall heavily into his arms, laughing and teasing, throwing him higher. The boy knows that he is in the air now, and he is safe; his daddy will catch him as he always does; the boy will fall into the warm cradle of his father’s arms.
part three
That’s the way things come clear. All of a sudden. And then you realize how obvious they’ve been all along.
—MADELEINE L’ENGLE, The Arm of the Starfish
Chapter One
The morning that Alison’s parents were scheduled to arrive on a plane from North Carolina, Charlie woke up flooded with relief. He fed the kids breakfast and got Annie ready for school while Alison stayed in bed, flipping channels between talk shows on the tiny television they used for videos in the Volvo on long-distance trips. Noah was sick, with a double ear infection, and at the bus stop Annie threw a screaming fit and refused to get on the school bus—she flung herself on the wet sidewalk and wouldn’t get up. In a panic Charlie scraped her off the pavement and tried to shove her up the steps, but she was hysterical, and under the glare of the bus driver he quickly backed down.
Ed and June had planned to take a car service from the airport, but since Charlie had to stay home from work that morning anyway, he strapped the kids into their car seats and drove to Newark.
“What’s wrong with this poor child?” was the first thing June said as she got into the front passenger seat. Reaching between the bucket seats, she anxiously touched different parts of Noah’s face with the back of her hand.
“I’m thick, Dramma,” Noah said.
“Yes, you are. Poor baby. You have a fever. You shouldn’t be out in this weather.”
“He’s on antibiotics,” Charlie said, trying not to sound defensive. “It’s just an ear infection.”
“You know, antibiotics aren’t necessarily the best way to treat an ear infection. I sent Alison some information about homeopathic remedies that are less invasive. Maybe you haven’t had a chance to look at it. We still don’t really know what antibiotics do to young children.”
“Yes, we do,” Charlie said. “They cure ear infections.” Easy, he told himself; let it go.
“Hello, precious,” June was saying to Annie over her other shoulder. “Don’t you have school today?”
“I hate school. I’m never going to school again!”
“Nonsense. School is very important. Don’t you want to be a smart girl?”
“No,” Annie said.
June rose slightly and turned around in her seat. “Well, you may not,” she said, smiling determinedly at Annie, “but you are six years old. And last I checked, six-year-olds do not get to decide whether or not they want to go to school.”
“Listen to your grandma, Anna-banana,” Charlie said. “There’s been a lot going on, as you know,” he said quietly to June.
“Even more reason to stick to routine,” she murmured. “Children crave structure.”
“June,” Ed said from the backseat, “I think you’ve made your point. Anyway, I seem to recall that we weren’t so big on structure ourselves when Alison was a little girl.”
“Yeah,” June snorted, “and look at what happened.”
“June, please,” Charlie said, motioning toward