Everybody's Son Page 13

  She went into the kitchen as soon as they got home and picked out a knife to chop the garlic. He went up behind her and gently took it out of her hand. “I’ll make supper,” he said. “You go take a nap.”

  He poured himself a Coke and then got busy in the kitchen. He put on a pot of water to boil, chopped the garlic, added a few sprigs of basil, and quickly fried it in a pan of olive oil. He hunted in the fridge for the can of Parmesan cheese. “Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes,” he yelled as he set the small table in the kitchen. All this time, while he was working, nervousness rattled like a large ice cube in his stomach. Should he give her the ring during dinner or immediately after? Should he slip it into the pasta, or was that gross? He wished he had consulted with his dad but also knew why he hadn’t—David would have been appalled at the thought of Anton proposing to a girl whom he and Delores had not met. Anton would’ve had to sit through the you’re-too-young-to-even-think-about-marriage lecture. He knew his parents loved each other, but his dad had recently confessed to him that he wished he had dated a bit more before settling down. Except he hadn’t put it quite like that. He’d said something about wishing he had sowed some more wild oats, and Anton had cringed, put it down to the kind of yucky, cringe-making things parents said.

  Carine had switched into sweatpants and one of Anton’s shirts. “This looks yummy, baby,” she said, dipping a finger into the olive oil sauce and licking it.

  He pointed toward the tiny dining table. “Sit. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  They were both hungry after a full day of classes and ate in relative silence. “So did your parents decide if they’re going?” Anton asked with his mouth full.

  “Yep.” Carine swallowed before continuing. “To Mozambique. For two weeks this time.”

  Each year, ever since she had turned seven, Carine’s parents ran a free medical clinic somewhere in the third world. It was like missionary work, she had explained to Anton, except her parents were not religious. It was simply her father’s way of giving back, uncomfortable as he was with the affluence of his life in America.

  “So you’re going to be alone here over Thanksgiving?”

  She gave him a quick glance. “Guess so. Though Veronica has already said that I could go home with her. But honestly, Anton, I have so much homework that it’ll be easier just to stay around.”

  “How about going with me? To the Cape?”

  She gave a short laugh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. They just sound like . . . like not my kind of people.”

  He did his best to not show the hurt that he felt. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Just that . . . your dad’s the governor, for chrissake. And I don’t know, your family sounds so white.”

  “Veronica’s family is white.”

  Carine covered his hand with hers. “Honey. I’m not trying to pick a fight with you. And I don’t mean to be rude, either.”

  He shook his head, offended. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Are you saying you’re never going to meet my family?”

  “Of course not. Just . . . not yet, okay? I mean, it’s too soon, for one thing.”

  The silver ring in his pocket suddenly felt heavy, a ridiculous object that weighed him down. “After a year it’s too soon to meet my family? That’s insulting.”

  He saw the flame leap in her eyes. “Have you even told your white parents about me?” She looked at him for a second. “No, I didn’t think so. I’ll tell you what. That’s insulting.”

  “They’re not my white parents, Carine. They are my parents.”

  “Fine.” She nodded her assent. “Agreed. But let me ask you this: How come you never talk to me about your birth mom?”

  A hole opened up in his chest. She was going too far. He tried to control his temper, but when he spoke, his voice shook with anger. “Because there is nothing to say about her. I have told you everything that you need to know. You know that I was adopted.”

  They stared at each other stiffly, their bodies rigid, but suddenly, she capitulated, her face soft. “Aren’t you curious about her, Anton?” she pleaded. “Don’t you want to know where she is? Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

  She was clawing at a wound that had scabbed over for ten years. He looked down at his pasta bowl, trying to steady himself lest he say something that he would regret. “I don’t want to talk about this,” he said at last.

  “But that’s just it. Why not? She’s your mother, for crying out loud. Don’t you even care whether she’s dead or alive?”

  He turned toward her savagely. “No. I don’t. She could be rotting in a crack house or rotting in her grave for all I care. That’s the honest answer. And if you can’t fucking deal with that, then, well, it’s too bad, Carine. I don’t have to explain myself to anybody. So you can take your judgmental tone and shove it.”

  He got up from the table, walked into the living room, paced around a few times, and then opened a window. It felt hot in his tiny apartment, and crowded, and he wished she would leave.

  “Anton.” She came up behind him and he tensed, hoping she would not touch him, not while his body was still pulsing with anger. She did not. “I’m sorry, I was totally out of line. I just wish you would talk to me about your past a little bit more. I just want to be let in, baby, don’t you see?”

  He looked down at her. “Don’t ever call them my white parents. They are my only parents. They were the ones who took me in when she wanted nothing to do with me. Because the drugs were more important than her only child. Everything that I have, everything that I am, is due to my mom and dad.” Even through his anger, he was aware of the burning in his throat. Strange how raw, how close, the pain felt.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his index finger to stop her. “And one more thing. Something that I’ve learned from my father. Life is about moving ahead, not looking back. That’s the American way. And that’s what I believe. I refuse to waste even ten minutes of my life looking back. So before you ask, no, I’ve never Googled my birth mom to find out her whereabouts. Because, frankly, I just don’t care. And if that makes me a monster, well, you know where the front door is.”

  Carine looked at him, aghast, and Anton looked away first. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Do you want me to leave? To leave you alone?” She was openly crying now.

  He gathered her in his arms. “No. Of course not.”

  “Good.” She sobbed against his chest. “Because I really love you, Anton.” She looked up at him and her eyes were worried, probing his face for something. “Please just know that if you ever want to talk to me about anything, I’ll be there for you.”

  “I know. I will.” But he was desperate to get off the subject.

  Carine smiled ruefully. “You men,” she said. “Always so tough.”

  He pulled her toward the couch and they sat down. He clicked the TV remote absently and then muted the sound. “Well, this was unfortunately a giant detour to a very simple proposal,” he said. He enjoyed watching her eyes get wide with anticipation. He waited for a moment for maximum effect and then added, “Will you come to Pappy’s house on the Cape with me for Thanksgiving?”

  Her body seemed to fold upon itself, and when she looked up, her eyes held an emotion that he could not read. When she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically low and uncertain. “Sure. If you think it’s a good idea. If they’ll have me.”

  He forced a heartiness into his voice that he did not feel. “Are you kidding me? They’ll love having you there.”

  He stroked her hair absently as they settled in to watch a Star Trek rerun. After a few minutes he rose to make them a bowl of popcorn. Everything seemed fine and back to normal, but for the first time, he felt at a remove from Carine. He sat back down on the couch and put his arm around her, trying to get rid of this horrible new feeling. He thrust his
right hand into his pants pocket, twirling the ring, feeling the cool inner softness of the metal. The future that had seemed so clear just a few hours ago now felt like an endless loop that went around and around and got nowhere.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Anton and David had just finished hammering the shingles that had blown off Pappy’s roof, and despite it being a windy day, they had worked up a sweat. Grabbing two beers from the cooler, they now sat on the two Adirondack chairs on the front lawn, overlooking the ocean.

  “Pappy’s looking old,” Anton said.

  “He is old.”

  Anton gave his father a sly grin. “So are you. But you look pretty good for an old man.”

  “Just you wait. It creeps up sooner than you think.”

  “Dad. Please. I’m only twenty.”

  David glanced at his son appreciatively. “So you are.”

  “Everything going okay in the statehouse?”

  David rubbed his eyes tiredly. “You know. The same old shenanigans by the Republicans.”

  “Don’t you ever just want to quit? I mean, Jesus, it takes forever to make anything happen.”

  David stared into the distance. The water today was the color of jade. “Like Pappy, you mean? How he up and quit?”

  “I wasn’t thinking of that. I just meant . . . I guess I don’t have the temperament for politics. I’m too impatient, and I’d hate all the compromising.”

  David glanced at his son. Anton had changed. He seemed tougher, somehow, more brusque. It was the influence of the girl, he could see that. They had driven from Cambridge to the Cape yesterday, in time for dinner, and although it had been pleasant enough, she changed the electrical field when she was in the room. There was a sharpness to her that he wasn’t sure yet if he liked. Also, none of the deference toward his elderly father that he himself felt and took for granted. She’d spoken to Pappy as if she were his equal. It had bothered David, even though he knew it ought not to. Young people today were different, he knew that. Also, the girl was from a different background. He’d tried talking to Delores about it in bed last night, but his wife had been tired and noncommittal.

  “Dad? Where’d you go?”

  “Sorry.” David stretched his arms out and yawned. “It’s so wonderful here, even on a cold day. Pappy had the right idea to retire here.”

  They sat in silence, sipping their beers, listening to the lapping of the ocean waves. Then David said, “So is it serious?”

  Anton gave him a quick look. “I think so.”

  “I see.” A pause. “Carine said you guys have been dating for over a year.”

  “Something like that.”

  “But you never mentioned her to us?”

  “Dad—”

  David shook his head. “I’m not mad. Honest. Just curious, as to—why not?”

  “No reason. Really. I . . . I just . . . wanted her to myself, you know?”

  He nodded as if he understood. But he didn’t. He tried to remember if he had kept Delores a secret from his parents, but he couldn’t. He doubted it—the senator had been such a large and looming presence in his life that he couldn’t have kept any secrets even if he’d wanted to. In fact, the first phone call he’d made when he found out Delores was pregnant was to his father.

  But he and his dad hadn’t been particularly close, had they? They certainly had not been friends the way he and Anton were. David had always told Anton that he could come with any problem and he would help, no questions asked. He was a baby boomer parent, after all. Drugs, sex, and rock and roll, the three biggies—he had counseled Anton on the first two and shared his passion for the third with his son.

  “In any case,” Anton was saying, “Carine and I, we’re so happy to be here. Thanksgiving on the Cape—that’s always special, right, Dad?”

  “Somebody say my name?”

  Both men turned around to see Carine come up behind them. She wore a white long-sleeved T-shirt and black jeans, and despite the cold, she was barefoot. The girl is beautiful, David thought appreciatively as Carine came around to Anton and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. David caught a flash of her cleavage and quickly looked away. “Hey, baby,” Carine said. “Y’all done with the roof?”

  “Yup.”

  “So now what?”

  Anton pointed to the ocean with his beer bottle. “Just chillin’. Taking in the view.”

  “And sharing some quality father-son time.” David regretted the words as soon as he said them, hearing the snippiness in his voice.

  Carine’s eyes widened slightly. “Sorry, Mr. C.” She waited a beat and then continued, “But I’m on an errand from your wife. She needs one of you to run to the grocery store before it closes and buy us a bag of potatoes.”

  David felt himself flush. He turned to ask Anton if he’d want to run up to the Stop & Shop with him, but Anton was already getting up from the chair. “You wanna ride to the store with me?” he asked Carine, who nodded.

  “I’ll go get the car keys,” she said, and left before David could respond.

  Feeling foolish, David rose, too. “Well, this was nice,” he said. He pointed to the roof. “Glad we got a chance to fix those shingles for Pappy.”

  “Yup.” Anton was looking at him with an expression—bemusement? affection? apprehension?—that David couldn’t quite place.

  “Well.” David rocked on his heels. “Guess I better go in and help your mom with dinner. You know how nervous she gets with holiday meals.”

  He turned to go, but Anton put out a hand and caught him by the wrist. “Dad.”

  David looked at him inquiringly. “Yeah?”

  “Nothing. Just . . . I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Carine earlier. I just . . . I can’t explain it. Anyway. I should have. In any case, I don’t want it to spoil our weekend together, okay?”

  David raised one eyebrow, puzzled. “Why should it?”

  “No. That’s not what I meant.” Anton ran his fingers through his thick hair. “She means a lot to me, Dad. And I want you guys to like her. For y’all to be friends.”

  Y’all? Had his son ever said that word before? First the long hair, now the diction, David thought. “Of course we’ll like her. We already do.” He put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You need to relax. Okay?”

  Anton nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  David passed Carine as he made his way toward the house. “Be back in a jiffy,” she said, jingling the car keys.

  “Drive carefully,” he said automatically.

  He watched as the two of them walked hand in hand toward the garage. Then he turned and went in the house to help his wife in the kitchen.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I’m sorry it’s just the five of us for dinner, my dear,” Pappy said to Carine as he refilled her wineglass. “Our neighbors the Carmichaels usually join us, but they’re in the Caribbean this year.” He looked out the windows to where a steady rain was falling. “They may have had the right idea.”

  “That’s okay,” Carine said. She chewed on a piece of turkey and then asked, “Where in the Caribbean?”

  The senator shrugged. “Damned if I know. Aruba, Belize, Antigua? All those places are the same, far as I can tell.”

  Anton, who was sitting to Carine’s left, felt her stiffen. “Actually, they’re really quite different,” she said. “You should check out Jamaica Kincaid’s A Small Place. You’d change your mind.”

  “No, not Jamaica,” Pappy replied. “Pretty sure that’s not where they are.”

  Anton squeezed Carine’s hand before she could correct him. Just drop it, Carine, he silently willed her. “The Carmichaels are old friends,” he said hurriedly, his voice a little too loud. “Marc Carmichael was a congressman for many years. He is my dad’s godfather.”

  Carine raised her eyebrow. “Do you folks have any friends who are not politicians?”

  Pappy laughed. “Touché, my dear.” He turned to look at Anton. “You better keep an eye on this one here, son. She’s a si
zzler.”

  “Yeah, me and what army?” Anton said, and they all chuckled when Carine smacked his arm. Delores passed the platter of asparagus around. “Eat up, you kids,” she said. “This has gotta be better than college food.”

  “No kidding,” they said in unison. “Everything is delicious, Ms. C.,” Carine added, forking more asparagus on her plate.

  A look of satisfaction came over Delores’s face as they helped themselves to seconds. “So what’s the rush to get back? Can’t you just stay until Sunday?”

  There was a pleading in Delores’s voice that Anton heard immediately. Mom is lonely, he thought. Being in the Governor’s Mansion, away from her old friends, had clearly taken its toll on her. He knew how much it would mean to her if they extended their visit by a couple of days. He looked over at Carine. “What do you think, hon?”

  “I can’t.” Carine’s tone was regretful but resolute. “I’m sorry. I have a test on Monday that I have to get back to study for.”

  “Oh, come on.” David’s tone was teasing. “Anton tells us you’re a straight-A student.” He reached for more of the mashed potatoes.

  Carine’s smile was artificially bright. “Well, I got to be. You know what they say—folks who look like me, we gotta work twice as hard.”

  There was a stunned silence as they all absorbed the meaning of her words. “Ah, well, my dear,” the senator said at last. “This isn’t 1962, you know.”

  “Maybe not where you live, sir.”

  Pappy looked puzzled. He half-turned to look at Anton to ask for an explanation. “I . . . What does she mean?”

  “What Carine means, Pappy, is that there’s still a lot of racism out there,” Anton offered weakly. He fought the urge to stomp on Carine’s foot under the table.

  “She’s right,” David said. “We have a case right now, working its way up the courts, asking the court to rule affirmative action illegal.” He chewed slowly for a moment and then looked at Carine. “What do you think? Do you believe affirmative action has outlived its usefulness?”