Page 127 of Playworld

It was not lost on either my brother or me that she did not unpack, but instead placed the suitcase open, on her dresser, as you might during a short stay in a hotel. Oren ordered pizza and made a Caesar salad. I set the table. When we sat down, Mom asked me, “How are you on school clothes?”

“My pants are fine,” I said, “but none of my shirts fit. Or my blazer.”

“We’ll go shopping this weekend,” she said. “Do you want to come?” she asked Oren.

“I can’t,” Oren said. “I have a commitment.” He so attentively sprinkled his slice with garlic and red pepper that we knew not to press him about what this was.

“Do you have something to wear for Dad’s opening night?” Mom asked him instead.

“I can throw something together,” he said.

“How’s your summer reading going?” she asked me.

What a miserable several days it had been, not so much reading as inhaling pages. But I was close to finished.

“What do you have left?” Mom said.

“The Sun Also Rises.”

“Oh,” she said, “you can read that in an afternoon.”

Mom, never one to be flippant, was always saying such reassuring things to me. She might as well have claimed I could go on pointe if I just strapped on her shoes.

Were all of us listening for Dad to come home that night? Around eleven the phone rang. Oren and I jumped from our beds and raced for my study. He lifted the handset, careful to hold down the cradle’s prongs while I unscrewed the mouthpiece’s cap and popped out the receiver. Then I placed the earpiece between us.

“…it’s hard to tell what’s good or bad at this point,” Dad was saying to her. “They keep making changes.”

“It’s not your job to worry about that,” Mom said.

“True,” Dad said, and waited. The silence between them throbbed like a broken limb. “How are the boys?” he finally said.

“They seem good,” Mom said. “Oren’s the Green Giant, he’s grown so much. Griffin badly needs a haircut. He looks like a lion. He’s also behind on his homework.”

“What else is new?” Dad said.

“What else is new?” Mom said.

Dad paused. Mom refused to fill the air. “Do you want me to come home tonight,” Dad asked, “or do you want me to wait?”

Mom thought about this. It was as if the entire family were thinking about it. “I want you to come home, but only if you’re really ready to come home.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not going to spell it out for you, Shel.”

Dad said, “Fine then.”

And he hung up.

About my time with the Shahs, there was next to no discussion, although Mom did come into my room the following night and asked,“How did it go out there?” as if she had information. When I had nothing to report, she said, “Naomi told me Sam moved out. They’re getting a divorce.”

“Huh,” I said.

“She said you’ve turned into a real gentleman.”

Mom cleared the hair from my eyes to better search them and then left me be. I was so confident in my silence because on the morning of my return I called Sam at home and told him where his car was, that the keys were in their normal hiding place, in response to which he said, stiffly, “Thank you for letting me know.”

“How’s Naomi?” I asked.