Antique Bastards
17. Danny
17. Danny
Junie throws bread at the ducks. Misses by three feet. The ducks don’t move.
“They’re broken,” she says.
“They’re not broken,” Lucy says. “You’re throwing wrong.”
“I am not throwing wrong!”
“Like this.” Lucy demonstrates. Pinches off a small piece. Tosses it. Duck eats it immediately.
“You cheated,” Junie says.
“It’s physics.”
“What’s physics?”
“Throwing better.”
Angie offers me coffee from her thermos. “Want some?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I’ve had enough coffee.”
“You say that every day.”
“And oddly enough, it’s no less true.”
She sips hers. We’re on a bench by the pond. Sunday morning. March 16th. Cold but not terrible. Hannah dropped the girls off at my place. We’re going to meet the crew at a coffee shop in a few hours.
Junie is wearing pink. Head to toe. Pink jacket, pink pants, pink shoes with sparkles. She looks like a birthday cake. Cute as it gets, but hardly park clothes.
Lucy is wearing hiking boots and a practical jacket. She looks like she’s about to summit something.
“Your granddaughters are very different,” Angie says.
“I’ve noticed that.”
“Junie’s going to be trouble.”
“Yeah, she already is.”
“Lucy’s going to run a company.”
“Probably.”
The ducks are now ignoring both girls. Swimming away with purpose. Junie follows them along the edge of the pond. Lucy stays put. Starts collecting rocks.
“What are you making?” I call over.
“A wall.”
“For what?”
“Defense.”
“Against what?”
“Ducks.”
Angie laughs. “She’s Luke’s kid.”
“Yep.”
“You think they’ll move back here?”
“Who?”
“Luke and Chris. For Ruth.”
“I don’t know. Luke talked about a few months ago, even before Tom died. Said he could run the company remote. Why? Did someone suggest that?”
“No, just a hunch. It would be good for the girls.”
“Would be good for Ruth.”
We sit there. Ducks doing duck things. Girls doing girl things. Sunday morning doing Sunday morning things.
“You’re staring,” Angie says.
“At what?”
“Me.”
“I’m looking at the pond.”
“The pond’s over there.”
“I’m panning.”
“You’re staring.”
“You flatter yourself.”
She smiles. Doesn’t say anything else. Just sips her coffee.
Junie runs over. “Grandpa Danny, I’m muddy.”
“I can see that.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Then stop playing in mud.”
“But the good sticks are in the mud.”
“Then you’re going to get muddy.”
She looks at her pants. They’re not pink anymore. More like brown with pink memories.
“Mama’s going to be mad.”
“Probably.”
She runs back. Starts helping Lucy with the wall. The wall immediately collapses. They start arguing about engineering.
“Note to self,” I say, “don’t let Junie near the train town.”
“You and your controlled train village.” Angie teases.
I look at her. “Yes?”
“The train town. It’s all about control. You are the mayor of Train Town”
“It’s a hobby.”
“Then control is your hobby.”
“You planted how many roses?”
“Sixty-seven. After the divorce. Named them. Talk to them. Care for them like pets.”
“They’re just hobbies.”
“They are. But they speak volumes about the hobbyist.”
“Hmm. Never thought about it in that light. I was just idling time by building miniatures.”
“And placing them exactly…”
“Yeah, I see that. You are smarter than you look.”
“Mercifully,” she raised an eyebrow, “so are you.”
I watch the girls. Lucy is explaining load-bearing structures. Junie is ignoring her and adding more rocks.
She is right. The train town is control. Eighty-seven people who stay where I put them. Who don’t leave. Who exist because I say so. Some people fly. Some people plant things. I build miniatures.
Lucy runs over. “Grandpa Danny, can we see the trains?”
“Not today.”
“Why not?”
“We’re meeting your papa soon.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“Is so a reason.”
“That’s a stupid reason.”
“Best one I have, sweetheart.” I’m laughing inside.
She runs back. Junie has found a frog. Or thinks she’s found a frog. Hard to tell from here.
“They like you,” Angie says.
“What’s not to like? They like you too, I notice.”
“Yeah. They are beautiful little people. Innocent. Trusting. Damn the world that takes it all away.”
“Sheesh! Sunday morning happy talk…”
We sit there. Coffee getting cold. Girls building fortresses from judgmental ducks. Sun peaking through March clouds.
“You happy?” Angie asks.
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
“You?”
“Over the top.”
Junie runs over. Completely soaked. Muddy head to toe. Pink outfit destroyed.
“I caught a frog!”
“Where is it?”
“It jumped away.”
“That’s what frogs do.”
“Can we get a frog?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because frogs live in ponds.”
“We could make a pond.”
“We’re not making a pond.”
She runs back. Lucy is explaining amphibian biology. Or making it up. Probably making it up.
Angie is looking at me.
“What?”
“You’re already planning where to put the pond.”
“I am not.”
“Liar.”
She’s right.
Crazy Mocha at 1:15. Girls arguing about frogs. Lucy says they are “phibians”. Junie says reptiles because green.
Hannah walks in with Luke. They see us. Come over.
Hannah looks at Junie. “What happened?”
Junie: “Science.”
“What kind?”
“Frog science.”
“Did you catch one?”
“But it got away.”
Luke sits down, says to me, “Looks like you guys had a muddy good time.”
“Pink really isn’t a park color.”
Hannah: “Yeah, I know. It’s all she wants to wear right now.”
I catch Hannah’s eye. “Hey, look, sweetie, I just want to apologize to you in public for stepping into your business like I did.”
“You mean the royal rumble? You did that already.”
“Saying it again. Officially.”
“Okay.”
“But I’m not sorry I hit him.”
“I know. He deserved it. Thanks for having my back, in a weird way, even if you are the strangest man in western Pennsylvania.”
“Ok, but West Virginia is right over there…” Then, “How’s Ruthie?”
“She’s okay. Tired. She almost came today but said she isn’t ready to be out in public yet.”
“Makes sense. Tell her I asked after her.”
“I will.”
“When are you guys flying out?”
Luke: “Tuesday.”
“Well, how about tomorrow you bring Lucy by so she can see the trains. She asked about them. I guess Junie told her. Then dinner. I’m buying.”
“I’m curious about Dad’s train obsession too. Yeah. We’ll do that.”
You good?” I ask Hannah.
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“You know what, Dad? I think I am.”
“Good.”
We small talk for a while. Chris tells a story about Lucy and Luke on the sailboat. As we are leaving. I catch Luke’s eye. Nod outside.
On the sidewalk I hand him a check for two grand.
“What’s this?”
“What I owe you. Part of it.”
“Dad—”
“Take it.”
He takes it.
“Thanks for bailing me out,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll get you the rest.”
“No rush.”
“There is for me.”
He puts it in his pocket. Looks at me.
“You doing okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He hugs me. Quick. Awkward. The way men who don’t hug much do. Angie comes out. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
We drive home. Twelve minutes. Three lights. One turn.
The house is quiet. Angie’s getting groceries. Be back in an hour. I’m in the hallway. Walking past the mirror. The full-length one. I stop. Look. Guy in his sixties. Gray hair. Navy polo. Standing in his own house.
I point at him. “You antique bastard.” But I’m smiling. I’m still here.
I walk to the kitchen. Pour coffee I don’t need. Stand at the counter drinking it. The train town is downstairs. Eighty-seven people exactly where I put them. Maybe later I’ll move some. Maybe not.
For now I’m just here. Drinking coffee. Waiting for Angie to get back.