Page 37 of The Fix-Up

“Mommy. Mom. Mommy. Mooom. Mommy.”

“Yes, Oliver?” I said, trying to sound like the patient, calm mother I was most definitely not.

“Today Teacher read us a book about a family that goes to the ocean, and they see all kinds of stuff like seashells and crabs and fishes and they made sandcastles and I asked Teacher if it wascalled sand because it’s halfway between the sea and the land and she told me she didn’t know but to ask you.”

Thank you, Mrs. Sullivan. I’d have to get her a very special gift for Teacher Appreciation Week.

“Is that why it’s called sand, Mommy?”

I knew he would keep asking until I gave him an answer. So, I did what most parents had been doing for generations when they were exhausted, and their feet hurt, and their kid was bouncing off the walls; I lied. “Yep. That’s exactly why sand is called sand.”

“I knew it.” He shot a fist in the air in victory and settled into a moment of quiet. It didn’t last. “Mom. Mom. Mommy.”

“You know, you only have to say it once, kid. I hear you.”

“Can we go to the ocean?”

“Sure. That would be fun.” I turned down the private gravel road to the house.

“Soon?”

“Soon.” Please. No more questi?—

“Can I have a baby brother?”

I slammed on the brakes and used the rearview mirror to peer back at him. “What?”

Oliver’s face was set in a serious expression. “I want a little brother. Uncle Chris says he and Aunt Mae are going to have a baby soon and I could borrow it sometimes, but I would like a baby brother of my own. Then I don’t have to share.”

A vein in my head began to pulse. That couldn’t be good. After putting the car in park, I unbuckled and turned to see him better. “No, you can’t have a baby brother right now.”

He frowned but was blessedly silent for the twenty seconds it took to pull in under the carport and turn the car off.

Oliver hopped out of the car. Right before closing the door, he leaned in and said, “If it’s too hard to get a baby brother, I guess a baby sister would do.”

He skittered away before I could reply. I let out a tired laugh. “This kid.”

When I got out of the car, he was waiting for me. “Mommy, what is that?”

At first, I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. The carport was attached to the house on the side of the kitchen. It was big enough for two cars to park side by side. The right side, closest to the kitchen door, had always been my spot. Gil’s car was parked on the left where Ollie used to park his ancient pickup. I followed Oliver to the other side of Gil’s car.

“That, Mommy. Where did that come from?”

Thatwas a shiny red and chrome motorcycle. I didn’t know much about motorcycles but even I could tell this one was very nice. Past Ellie would have freshened up her lipstick and hunted down the owner of that motorcycle. Past Ellie would have been lulled by the siren call of a man who rode a motorcycle once.

Oliver’s father rode a bike with blue flames on the side. The first time we went out, I’d picked the spot and packed the picnic, but he’d driven us there. That feeling of the wind whipping past mixed with that edge of danger? It has been like catnip for me.

Good thing I wasn’t Past Ellie anymore.

“Is it Mr. Dalton’s?” Oliver asked.

“I guess so?” The only thing more ridiculous than Past Ellie’s mistakes was the thought of Gilbert Dalton riding a motorcycle. Did they make khaki-colored leather pants?

Oliver touched the seat. “I like it.”

“No, you don’t. Motorcycles are dangerous.” And so are the men who ride them. “Come on, let’s go figure out dinner.”

Once again, I waited until Oliver was tucked in before making my way out to Gil’s camp. Another camping chair had beenadded. Gil was standing with his hands on his hips, head tipped back to take in the dazzling display of stars.

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