Every Other Saturday (19 page)

Dave curled his fists and forced himself to breathe deeply. This was the reality. He had to be a grownup about it. “Okay.” His voice was so tense it could have snapped in half. “I can handle this.”

“I’m just shitting you, dude. Nothing has happened. Debbie and I are taking this whole thing very, very slow.”

Debbie and I.
It still sounded weird. “You’ve got to understand, Aaron. It’s not even just about me; she’s trying to protect our daughter, too.”

Aaron looked up, blue eyes meeting Dave’s with gentle honesty. “It’s me, man. I’m the one slowing us down. Debbie…” He seemed to consider his words carefully. “She loves you, and she always will. You’re the one she chose all those years ago, and you have Lyric. I could never disrupt that—not that I want to, of course.”

He fiddled with the straw wrapper. “But this isn’t going to get easier, the longer you both wait to move on. She says it’s going to hurt no matter what, no matter when. Whether it was me or some other guy.”

To his surprise, Dave found himself nodding. “I know. I’ve had those same thoughts. In my calmer moments. Obviously there haven’t been
tons
of those, but…”

Aaron’s mouth twitched. “I’ve known you a long time. Your temper isn’t new to me.”

“I can’t decide,” Dave said, feeling relief as he said aloud the things he’d only thought to himself on sleepless nights. “If I feel betrayed, because you’re practically my brother, and this feels like a breach of honor—”

“Dave—”

He shook his head at the interruption. “Or if I think it’s better that Debbie ends up with you. Because I know you’ll take care of her. I know you’ll be good to Lyric. You’ve got integrity. I’ve known your true character since we were ten years old. That’s a hell of a lot more than I could say about some random dude Debbie might choose.”

“She might not end up with me,” Aaron said. “This is her first…I guess you’d call it a relationship—it feels like one—since you guys split. I know how I feel, but I don’t want to press her.”

Dave laughed despite the lump in his chest, and the mist of tears forming in his eyes. “I saw how she just looked at you, man. You’re in. I can see it in her face.”

Aaron sat a little straighter. Dave could see he was trying to contain his happiness. “I don’t know.”

“She’s the mother of my child. I love her. I always will. If you hurt her, Aaron, I will pound every bone in your body to a watery pulp.”

“I would never.” He leaned across the table and took Dave’s hand. “Never.”

“Not that I have much choice about it, because Debbie pretty much does whatever the fuck she wants anyway, but you have my blessing.” He rubbed his eye with one hand, still holding Aaron’s hand with the other. “Eyelash.”

“Yeah.” Aaron squeezed, and then pulled his hands back to his own eyes, glancing at a nearby table. “It looks like you’re breaking up with me.”

“Nah,” Dave said. “You’ve got that underfed hipster look going for you. If anything, you’d be ditching me.”

Aaron laughed. “So, we just sit here now and wait for Debbie to bring back our credit cards?”

“Welcome to my world, Moskowitz.”

“How about Superman?” Julia asked, exasperated. “We can put your red underwear over those blue long johns?”

“No. What would I do for the cape?”

She considered. “I have that old red tablecloth. We can make an
S
out of construction paper.”

“I’m not wearing underwear on the outside.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just…not right. I shouldn’t have to wear it on the outside!”

“Okay,” she soothed.

“Why couldn’t you just have bought me Darth Maul like I wanted?”

“Honey, I explained this. When you’re on a budget, you can’t always—”

“I don’t want to be on a budget! It’s not fair! I want Dad!”

Brandon’s face was pink, and Julia could see an explosive tantrum building. But he couldn’t have an explosive tantrum, because they didn’t have time for that. It was less than an hour before dark; Dave and Lyric could arrive any minute. Julia had taken the night off, and offered to keep Lyric while Dave took one of his dates to a Halloween party. But Brandon still couldn’t decide what he wanted to be for trick-or-treating.

“What if you considered, just for a minute, the costume I made for you?”

“MOM!”

“Alright, Brandon. No screaming. Just take a deep breath.”

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. A. Space. Alien.”

“Space robot.”

“Ugh! Who cares? That’s a stupid costume and everyone can tell you made it at home!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Julia asked, biting back hurt feelings. “Doesn’t something homemade just show how much Mommy loves you?”

It did to Julia. She’d spent every free moment at the store this week constructing a googly-eyed alien/robot thingy from old boxes, extra foam from wedding centerpieces and her entire stash of old silver spray paint and flexible piping. The result, she had to admit, was a bit cumbersome and sloppy, but it was
almost
as cute as the one on Pinterest.

“It’s heavy, and it smells bad. And I don’t even want to be a stupid space robot or whatever it is. I haven’t liked that stuff since I was six!”

Julia had to admit that he had a point. It felt like ten minutes ago that Adam and Brandon had spent hours playing with a wobbly, remote control robot toy on a single wheel that spun underneath it.
Goes in any direction! AA Batteries Not Included!
They had chased Mia, chased Julia, even chased the cat next door, for hours. And Brandon had giggled… But everything about that picture had changed since then. Why had she been assuming Brandon wasn’t one of them?

“Mom! Are you even listening?”

“No,” she said. “I guess I’m not. I’m sorry, B. You don’t have to wear the costume. We’ll come up with something.”

She headed upstairs, adjusting the witch hat she’d worn every Halloween since she got pregnant with Brandon, trying to simultaneously calculate how much was in her jar of saved tips, and whether she could make it to Target and back before dark. She’d just leave a note for Dave; he’d have to understand. Maybe Darth Maul would even be on clearance.
Please, please, please just let them have one in Brandon’s size.

Julia snatched up the mason jar of bills and change she kept on her dresser and headed back down the stairs. She was saying, to no one in particular, “I bet we can make a light saber out of paper towel rolls and some old paint…” when she emerged to find Dave in her living room.

He wore a white undershirt with a large
P
painted on it and had eye black all around his left eye. The undershirt clung to his body in a way that felt awkward and intimate. To Julia’s relief, they hadn’t discussed what happened between them two weeks before. She’d decided to pretend it hadn’t happened, or at least that she’d been too drunk to remember.

“You’re a black-eyed pea,” she said.

“The legume, not the band,” he said. “And you’re…”

Dave looked at her appraisingly, and Julia tugged the black miniskirt down. She’d worn her ancient ripped fishnet hose and the purple Doc Marten’s she’d had since high school—basically her standard issue Halloween outfit, but she suddenly felt self-conscious about it.

“Okay, it’s a jar of money—oh, I got it! You’re a rich witch!”

A rough laugh bleated its way out of her mouth before she could stop it. “I wish,” Julia said. “Actually, I was just going to run out and see if I could get Brandon a quick costume change.”

“What, now? For tonight?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I will do everything possible to be back in time, it’s just… He didn’t want to wear what I made him.” She gestured vaguely at the clunky mass of silver spray paint and wasted Mommy ambition.

“You made that for him, like to
wear
?” Dave tried to hide a smile.

She felt herself bristle. “It’s actually quite cute. Or, it looked cute on Pinterest. Space robots are very…retro?”

“Does retro mean something that was actually made in 1974? Because if so, I agree. That thing looks like it could have asbestos in it.”

“What’s asbestos?” Brandon piped up behind Dave, his little brow furrowed.

“Nothing, honey,” Julia said. “Mr. Bernstein agrees with you about the robot, which is why I’m going to run to Target and see if I can find you a Darth Maul costume.”

Dave looked at his watch, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll hurry,” Julia said again.

“We don’t mind waiting,” Dave said slowly. “But don’t you think running out an hour before trick-or-treating when the shelves are all probably empty is…slightly insane? The little bitty kids are already out.”

“And?” Julia did not need this man adding to the evening’s frustrations.

“I’m just saying I can see you mowing down a two-year-old in your minivan if you go out in your current state.”

Julia looked down at the money jar. Mia and Lyric were ready to go in their princess outfits. “What do you suggest?”

Dave turned to Brandon. “You like sports, right? You like the Falcons?”

Brandon nodded.

“You know who Roddy White is?”

This time Brandon’s eyes grew wide. Julia didn’t know who Roddy White was, but clearly her son did.

“I’ll be right back,” Dave said. “I’m just going out to the truck.”

Five minutes later, the princesses were both chattering away at Mia’s little play table, serving each other imaginary pizza and tuna fish sandwiches, and Brandon paced anxiously around the room, muttering to himself. Julia was still going back and forth about whether it was too late to go to Target.

She was about to go upstairs to rummage in her old cedar chest to see whether there was anything among her old punk rock gear from high school and college, when Dave came back in. He had a shiny black Falcons helmet, which looked enormous compared to television, and a torn paper grocery bag. “Sorry this isn’t, like, super clean,” he said. “I wore this jersey to an all-day tailgating thing a couple of weeks ago, and it probably smells a little bit. Brandon, do you have some plain white pants?”

Brandon had rushed over to Dave in a way Julia hadn’t seen him approach another adult in months. He stood gaping at the helmet. “Is this real?”

“What, this?” Dave held the helmet just out of Brandon’s reach playfully.

God, don’t do that,
Julia willed him, imagining the screaming breakdown that Brandon had been teetering on the edge of all afternoon.
You can’t play with him like he’s a normal kid.

But Brandon laughed and jumped at the helmet, and Dave handed it to him. “Careful with that, okay, buddy?” Dave said. “It’s kinda special.”

To Julia, he said, “He played Little League or something? Got some white athletic pants and maybe cleats or black shoes?”

“Yes, I think they still fit…” She turned and ran up the stairs again, astonished to hear Brandon’s voice sounding so happy, so solid, downstairs. Julia was grateful for the private moment of digging in Brandon’s closet so she had a chance to wipe away a couple of unbidden tears. Was she happy to hear her son sounding so happy, or sad that she hadn’t been able to make him that way? No time to figure it out; she had to dig out his stained baseball pants and find the cleats with one torn shoelace.

In the end, the cleats no longer fit, but Brandon seemed happy enough to wear his regular tennis shoes instead. In fact, he was actually giddy. Julia was mildly concerned that her son must have suffered a knock on the head. The pants landed halfway between his calves and ankles, and had to be held together with a safety pin, but this turned out fine since Dave’s black number eighty-four jersey was several sizes too large and hung almost to Brandon’s knees.

Soon they were all suited up and headed out the front door with their pillowcases for candy—Lyric had a minor tantrum when she realized her special princess pumpkin had been left at Dave’s house, but got over it when Julia pointed out a pillowcase holds
way
more candy. Only when they were marching into the dusk with the porch light shining on the back of Brandon’s now-oversize head did Julia notice the silver scrawl across the left side of the helmet.

She looked more closely as she stooped to set out the bucket of candy for kids who would drop by while they were out. When she stood, she grasped Dave’s arm, which felt warm despite the chilly evening and his short-sleeved
P
shirt.

“Is that an autograph?” she murmured.

“What? Oh, yeah.” He said it casually. “Roddy signed it for me.”

“Roddy White, a professional football player, signed this helmet for you, and my child is wearing it for Halloween?”

Dave shrugged. “Roddy’s a friend. Anyway, you’re not planning to drag his head along the ground at any point, are you?”

Julia bit her lip. “That has to be valuable. Are you sure—”

“Absolutely. I had it in the truck to donate to the Hanukkah auction.”

“Brandon, be careful in that helmet, okay?” Julia called, as the kids ran ahead to the next-door neighbor’s house.

“Because he was
planning
to fall on his head until you said that?” Dave asked, one eyebrow cocked.

“Shut up.” Julia smacked Dave on the chest.

“Careful,” Dave said. “You’ll get my
P
all over you.”

“Beg your pardon?”

He grabbed her hand and held it up so she could see the black smudges on her knuckles. “Grease paint.” He wiped her hand with the tail of his t-shirt. “I know I look like the kind of dad who keeps specialty fabric paint in a craft drawer, but I was all out today.”

“You don’t have a craft drawer?” she teased.

“And they say
I’m
a chauvinist. Why wouldn’t a dad have a craft drawer?” Before she could answer, he leaned in. “I actually do have a hot glue gun. But I’m not very good with it.”

“Maybe your glue isn’t hot enough?” Why, why,
WHY
did she say that? She sounded like bad porn.

Dave laughed. “That’s probably it. I’ll have to get some help with that.”

The kids returned with their pillowcases, and Lyric tugged at Dave’s hand. “Come to the next house with me, Daddy!”

He allowed himself to be dragged away, while Julia stayed behind on the sidewalk, watching the four of them. When someone in a mummy costume answered the door, Mia shrieked, and Brandon put a brotherly hand on her back, leaning his head toward her in reassurance, despite the weight of the huge helmet. When the treats were given, Brandon and Dave high-fived, while the princesses sped back, faces gleeful.

Dave rejoined her on the sidewalk while the three kids ran to the next house. The two of them followed at a stroll, hands not quite touching. Several other children were on the next doorstep. Lyric ended up in the back, and she bounced up and down to be seen.

“I’m sure she misses her mom tonight,” Julia said.

“Yeah, Debbie is a Halloween freak. This is Lyric’s first trick-or-treat without her.”

Of course
. Julia could just see the perfectly decorated orange cupcakes, all lined up on a crisp white Martha Stewart platter. Hand-stitched placemats with little ghosts and pumpkins… Meanwhile, all Julia had to offer were musty pillowcases that smelled like the back of the linen closet. “Do you think she’ll be okay with us for the night? I can take her to Debbie if she’d rather.”

Dave sighed. “I thought about that, but no. If she melts down or seems miserable, just text me and we’ll figure it out.”

“Debbie has plans?”

“Honestly, I don’t want to ask. We’re working on…boundaries. We don’t want Lyric to think if things aren’t perfect with one of us, she’ll just get shuttled back to the other.”

“Wow,” Julia breathed. “That sounds so amazingly healthy.”

He snorted. “I don’t think we’re there yet. By a long shot. But thanks.”

They went up and down the two largest streets in Julia’s neighborhood, and returned so laden with candy that Julia carried all three pillowcases and Dave carried the two girls by turns as they scaled the hill in front of the house. By the time they made it back, the kids revived enough to sort through their candy in great heaps on the living room floor, while Dave reapplied his black eye in the hallway bathroom. Julia retired her witch hat to the kitchen table, and was making grilled cheese sandwiches for herself and the kids when Dave reappeared.