Дуглас Кеннеди - Five Days

‘Paris,’ he said, mouthing the word as if it was almost proscribed; the reverie he’d never dared articulate. ‘You serious?’

‘Just last week, before you turned my life upside down in the most amazing way, I spent an evening at home, looking at short-term rentals in Paris. Traveling vicariously, so to speak. We could find a very nice studio in an area like the Marais for around five hundred dollars a week. Airfares — if we book well in advance — are around six hundred each. You can eat well and reasonably in Paris. And the studio will have a kitchen. so, yes, we could do a month and a half on seven thousand. I would negotiate with whatever hospital down here took me on to ensure that I’d either have six weeks’ unpaid leave sometime during the first year — or, better yet, to push back my starting date until after Paris. In fact, if the apartment renovations might not be finished until early February we could go to France right after Christmas. ’

‘Paris,’ he said again. ‘Six weeks in Paris. I never thought that possible.’

‘It’s possible.’

‘Let’s do it then.’

I kissed him, then said:

‘Well, that was quite a difficult negotiation.’

He laughed.

‘Nothing with you is difficult,’ he said.

‘And nothing with us will ever be difficult. I know that sounds maybe like far too much wishful thinking. But the truth is we’ve both done difficult. We’ve both done circumscribed lives. And now. ’

‘The art of the possible.’

‘Exactly. In fact, that must be our credo. Those five words. The art of the possible.’

‘It’s a good modus vivendi.’

‘The best.’

Bing. A text message on my phone. I hesitated reaching for it, but Richard told me to take it. He needed to call the airport hotel and get our late checkout organized. As he disappeared into the other room with his phone, I picked up my cell and saw that Ben had written to me (spread out over four texts):

Hi Mom — still in Boston? Working flat out on new painting, and have run out of a certain azure blue I really need. Can’t be found in Maine, so I get it from an art supply place in Boston. Would cost me mucho to get it here by Tuesday. If you could pick up today and drop at Portland Museum of Art on your way home, Trevor will be there tomorrow at noon and can collect it. Sorry to be a pain. Would be doing me huge favor. You’re the best. Love — Ben

Immediately I called Ben.

‘You’re up early,’ I said when he answered on the third ring.

‘Very funny, Mom,’ he said, his voice all amused irony. ‘You evidently got my text.’

‘I’m thrilled the new painting’s coming together so brilliantly.’

‘Don’t use the word “brilliant”, please. It might jinx it. But Trevor —’ Trevor Lathrop, his visual art professor and all-purpose mentor at Farmington — ‘is rather enthusiastic. For him that’s big. Anyway, if you could get the paint. ’

‘I’m still in Boston, as I’ve decided to stay on and see an old friend tonight.’

‘And miss Dad’s middle-of-the-night send-off tomorrow to L.L.Bean’s?’ he said, his tone light, but clearly pointed.

‘I do feel guilty about that.’

‘Considering how you’ve been carrying the entire financial burden for the past two years. ’

‘It wasn’t your father’s fault that he was let go during a cutback.’

‘But it was his decision to act like an ill-tempered grump all that time. Even now. I called him last night to say hello, make a gesture and all that, and the guy asked me standard-issue questions about school and stuff, “You feelin’ OK?”, that kind of “tick the boxes with your son” conversation. then when I asked him about the new job, he got all mealy-mouthed and sullen. All I could think was: Who’s the adolescent here?’

‘You’re hardly an adolescent, Ben.’

‘I’m only beginning to understand what you’ve been dealing with for years.’

‘That’s a conversation for another time. On which note. say I dropped by to see you sometime next weekend.’

‘Here’s a better idea. I get a lift down to Portland on Saturday and we hang out for the afternoon and evening. And you can take me to dinner at that groovy Italian place we both like.’

‘It’s a date.’

‘You sound in a good place, Mom.’

‘Actually I am.’

‘Not that you’ve ever sounded like you’re in a bad place. I mean, you could give lessons about “putting a good face on things”. Still, nice to hear a hint of upbeat in your voice.’

Time to change the subject.

‘So give me all the details about the paint you need, the shop, and all that.’

Ben told me that when I got to the art supply store, just opposite Boston University on the Fenway, I was to ask for a guy named Norm ‘who’s been running this place since the nineteenth century’ and always mixed up the azure blue exactly the way Ben needed it.

‘The thing about Norm — he will never mix the paint until he has cash in hand, or a credit card number that works. And he’s only open until four p.m. today. But I’ll call him and say you’re coming. if you’re sure that’s not going to be too much hassle.’

‘You’re my son, Ben. It’s no hassle. And I can drop the paints off at the Museum of Art in Portland tomorrow.’

‘I’ll also phone Trevor and tell him to meet you there at twelve noon if that works.’

‘I’ve got the day off — so, yes, that works just fine. Give him my cell number and text me his. And I’ll text you this afternoon when I have the paint.’

‘You’re a star, Mom.’

As I put down the phone I found myself beaming. Richard came in from the next room.

‘So they’ve got a chambermaid at the other hotel, packing up both our rooms. I talked them into letting you leave your car there until tomorrow. And that phone call must have been a happy one, as you have the biggest smile imaginable on your face.’

I told him about the exchange with Ben, leaving out his comments about his father. I could see Richard again trying to get thoughts about his own son out of his head.

‘He so obviously recognizes what an amazing mother you’ve been to him.’

‘He’s quite the amazing son. And I really think — if he can keep his nerve and not give in to all that self-doubt, and can also get out of Maine for a number of years and really keep upping his game — he’s going to be important one day. Maybe even major.’

‘With you behind him. ’

‘He still has to do it all himself.’

‘Without you having to tell me anything I know that you’re the parent who’s been there for him.’

‘All I know is this — I’m the parent who needs to pick up some special paints for him this afternoon.’

I explained all the details about the particular shade of blue that this particular art supply dealer mixes up near Fenway Park, and how I had to be there by around three p.m., as the shop closes an hour later, and my son’s major new masterwork — Hey, I’m his mother — was awaiting completion.

‘Well, you clearly need to be up there at three,’ Richard said. ‘So here’s a plan. ’

We decided that, after lunch, Richard would jump the T out to the airport and I’d head up to the other side of town and pick up Ben’s paints, then we’d reconvene back here at the room around five.

But first we had a shower together, soaping each other up, kissing wildly under the cascading water, clinging to each other, promising to be always there for each other, repeating how much we loved each other, talking with an emotional freedom and openness that I had lost decades ago and never thought I would find again.

After dressing I sent a fast text to Sally:

Spending an extra day in Boston, playing hooky from the workaday world. How did the evening in Portland go? Love you — Mom