Lynne Pemberton - Sleeping With Ghosts

There was no welcoming smile for Adam, nor did his son move towards him when he said, ‘It’s OK, Dad. I’m used to it, you’re always late.’

‘ Always! Come on, that’s not fair.’

Calvin looped a lock of wayward hair behind his left ear. His sapphire blue eyes, almost exactly the same shade as his mother’s, challenged Adam, reminding him of Jennifer when she was angry. ‘OK, I’ll give you sometimes. ’

Adam stepped forward to touch his son’s arm, changed his mind and cuffed him playfully around the chin instead. Pulling a ridiculously long face, he said, ‘No smile for your old pop?’

Calvin started to grin, his bad temper melting like butter in the sun. He could never stay annoyed with his father for long.

Gently Adam hugged Calvin towards him. ‘It’s great to see you, Cal; how have you been?’ He ruffled his son’s long hair.

‘It’s great to see you, Dad; I’ve missed you.’ It felt good to hold his father close. Calvin wanted to savour the moment, enjoying the slight prickle of Adam’s stubble and the faintly acid smell of lime, and something else he didn’t recognize.

After a few seconds Adam relaxed his embrace then, holding Calvin at arm’s length, he looked him up and down in appreciation. ‘Wow! You’ve grown in the last month, nearly as tall as me. And man, what a great tan! You look like you spent the last few weeks at the beach.’

‘I wish,’ Calvin grinned. ‘Misspent time playing ball.’

‘Oh, yeah, how’s it going? Sorry I missed the last match, I was in Europe. Your mom said you were great, and that you made captain.’ Adam patted his son on the back, he was beaming with pride. ‘Congratulations, Cal; you put your dad to shame, I can barely hit the ball.’

Warmed by his father’s approval, the sullen expression Calvin had worn earlier was replaced by a radiant smile.

Adam wrapped an arm around Calvin’s shoulder. ‘Come on then, son; let’s hit the road.’

Arm in arm they walked to the car. Calvin peered inside. ‘No driver today, Dad?’ he asked, opening the passenger door.

‘Nope, I felt like being alone, lots of stuff on my mind. It seemed like a good opportunity to sort it out.’

Cal searched his father’s face. ‘And have you?’

‘Sort of,’ Adam said, jumping into the driving seat. He turned on the ignition staring straight ahead. Calvin recognized that distant look and knew better than to pry. His mother had warned him that his father had a dark side that he revealed to no one. Calvin suspected that this had been part of the problem in their marriage. He had broached the subject with his mother once, but Jennifer had been subtly evasive.

‘Anyway, tell me about you, Calvin. How’s school? Your mother tells me you got great grades. She also told me you want to leave.’

From the corner of his eye, Calvin studied his father’s reaction as he repeated what he had been practising for days. ‘Highclare has been great for me; I’ve enjoyed it, well most of it. After you guys split, I felt a bit lost, and being away at school with lots of others in a similar position helped a lot.’ He was staring into the middle distance. ‘It was pretty hard at first, Dad, I just wanted it to be, well, how it was before; you know, happy families, and all that stuff.’ There was no bitterness in his voice, just regret.

Adam gave his son a long glance. Calvin’s angular jaw jutted forward in what Adam knew was a defiant gesture, his mouth was taut. But a few seconds later, his bottom lip had begun to quiver ever so slightly and he squinted as sunlight suddenly flooded his eyes. He shut them, but not before Adam had seen the thin film of unshed tears.

Adam felt the boy’s pain like never before, realizing for the first time that he’d been so selfishly obsessed with his own hurt, he’d failed to recognize his son’s. Reproaching himself, he was filled with a deep remorse, and the compulsion to make amends.

‘Believe me, Calvin, when I say that I know how hard it must have been for you; all kids want their parents to be together, whatever the cost. They don’t understand that it’s not always possible. I don’t need to tell you that your mother is a strong-willed lady, and once she gets her mind set on something there’s no turning her.’

‘Would you have her back now, Dad?’

The unexpected question caught Adam off guard. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Just something she said last time I was home.’

‘Yeah, go on.’ Adam was curious.

‘A song came on the radio and she got a kind of funny look on her face, you know, wistful, and her voice sounded different, kinda foggy. She said, “This was the first song I ever danced to, with your father.” When the record ended, she turned to face me. Her eyes were full of tears, and I thought she was going to cry. Then she said, “I loved him very much.”’

Adam knew the song. ‘“I’m not in Love” by 10CC?’

Calvin nodded, ‘That’s the one.’

‘Next time you see your mother, ask her what song reminds her of Jordan Tanner.’ Adam’s anger altered his handsome face and his son was sorry he had brought the subject up. They travelled in stony silence for the next few minutes, until Calvin broke it.

‘I think you should know that I don’t want to go to Harvard next year, Dad. I don’t want to be a smart-ass lawyer. I want to go to Art College.’

This revelation did not surprise Adam who asked, ‘Is your mother aware of this?’

‘Yep, but you know her as well as I do, she’s a snob and all she cares about is what her fancy friends think. Harvard Law School is the ultimate as far as she’s concerned. She has this vision of art students with long hair, hanging out and doing drugs. Not the clean-cut Wasp image she has in mind for me! But I don’t want to do that preppy scene, and I hate the thought of being part of a hot-shot law firm. Most of the lawyers I’ve met at Grandma’s are creeps.’ Calvin spoke with the angry conviction of a headstrong sixteen-year-old determined to have his own way.

Adam agreed wholeheartedly. ‘You’re right about lawyers; most of ’em are assholes, give or take a couple, one of whom is my best friend. I never thought for one second Law School was right for you, Cal. You’ve got talent, real talent, and I would love you to be an artist. My greatest regret in life is that I can’t paint. That’s why I hang out in an art gallery for a living, you know, getting it all secondhand.’ Adam slid his hand across the car seat, covering Calvin’s, he squeezed gently. ‘You’ve got my support, son. If Art College is what you really want, and it makes you happy, fine by me. Your Grandfather Krantz would have been proud, he would have encouraged you every inch of the way.’

Calvin breathed a huge sigh of relief. ‘You’ll back me then, Dad, when it comes to the showdown?’

An image of Jennifer’s enraged face drifted before Adam’s eyes. He blinked to clear it from his vision and said in a voice he hoped sounded reassuring and positive, ‘I’m absolutely certain that between us we can make your mother see sense.’ He increased the pressure on his son’s hand.

‘Gee thanks, Dad! I knew I could rely on you.’

That night Adam went with Calvin to Lusardi’s, an Italian restaurant he’d been taking him to since he was old enough to walk. Over linguine pesto they reminisced about Calvin’s thirteenth birthday party, spent in the same restaurant. The teenager had got very drunk on Chianti, it was a memorable first.

Afterwards, back at Adam’s apartment on Central Park West, on Calvin’s insistence they played a selection of his all-time favourite blues artists. The boy whistled and snapped his fingers in tune with the music, commenting that he been the only kid in the neighbourhood to be lulled to sleep by John Lee Hooker, Robert Cray and Wolf Man Jack, instead of the usual nursery rhymes. Adam chuckled to himself thinking how much he loved being like this, just the two of them together. Later they shared a couple of beers, whilst watching a late-night TV movie in the small den that had once been Calvin’s playroom.