Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

“Either you get yourself undressed and into the bath, or I’ll undress you. I’m not kidding.”

“GO AWAY!” she screamed and after putting her pajamas on the countertop, I closed the door. For the next few minutes, I heard her alternately crying and talking to herself while I waited outside the door.

“Get in the bath, London,” I warned through the door. “If you don’t, I’ll make you clean the hamster cage all by yourself.”

I heard her scream again; a minute later, though, I heard her climbing into the tub. I continued to wait. After a little while, I heard her playing with her tub toys without the anger I’d heard earlier. Finally, the door opened; London was in her pajamas, her hair wet.

“Can we dry my hair tonight instead of leaving it wet?”

I gritted my teeth. “Of course we can, sweetheart.”

“I miss Mommy.”

I squatted down and took her in my arms, breathing in the sweet-clean scent of her soap and shampoo. “I know you do,” I said, and held her close, wondering how a father as messed up as I could have managed to help make something so wonderful, even as my little girl began to cry.

I read her the story of Noah and the ark as we lay in the bed together. Her favorite part, the part I had to read a second time, was when the ark was finished and the animals started to arrive.

“Two by two,” I read aloud, “they came in pairs, from all over the world. Lions and horses and dogs and elephants, zebras and giraffes…”

“And hamsters,” London added.

“And hamsters,” I agreed, “and two by two, they boarded the ark. How will they all fit, the people wondered. But God had a plan for that, too. They made their way onto the ark and there was plenty of room, and all the animals were happy. And two by two, they stayed in the ark while the rain began to fall.”

As I was finishing the story, London was fading. I turned out the light and kissed her cheek.

“I love you, London,” I whispered.

“Love you, too, Daddy,” she mumbled, and I crept quietly from the room.

Two by two, I thought to myself as I made my way down the stairs. London and me, father and daughter, both of us doing the best we could.

Even then, I felt like I was failing her, failing at everything.

Last February, when things were going from bad to worse for me at the agency, London got the flu, and it wasn’t pretty. She threw up pretty much nonstop for two days, and we had to bring her to the hospital to stop the vomiting and administer fluids.

I was scared. Vivian was too, though on the surface, she exuded a lot more confidence with the doctors than I did. When she spoke to them, she was calm and cool while asking appropriate questions.

London didn’t have to stay overnight, and when we brought her home, Vivian sat with her until midnight. Because she’d been awake pretty much the entire night the evening before, I took over. Like Vivian, I sat in the rocking chair and held my daughter. She was still feverish and I can remember how small and frail she felt, wrapped in a thin blanket and sweating and shivering at the same time. She woke every twenty minutes. Sometime around six, I finally put her in bed and went downstairs for coffee. An hour later, when I was pouring yet another cup, London padded into the kitchen and took a seat at the table beside Vivian. London moved lethargically and her face was pale.

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“I’m hungry,” London responded.

“That’s a good sign,” Vivian said. She put her hand on London’s forehead, held it, then smiled. “I think your fever’s gone.”

“I feel a little better.”

“Russ? Would you put some Cheerios in a bowl? Without milk?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Let’s try cereal without the milk, okay? I don’t want your tummy to get upset.”

I brought the Cheerios to the table along with my coffee and took a seat beside them.

“You were really sick,” I said. “Your mom and I have been really worried about you.”

“And we’re going to take it easy today, okay?”

London nodded as she munched. I was glad to see her eating.

“Thanks for holding me when I was sick, Mommy.”

“Of course, sweet girl. I always hold you when you’re sick.”

“I know,” London said.

I took a sip of coffee, waiting for Vivian to say that I’d helped out as well.

But she didn’t.

Kids are resilient. I know this because my mom and dad have used that expression for as long as I can remember, especially when describing their own parenting philosophy to Marge and me. Why, why, why did you do such things to us? we would ask. Ah, no worries. Kids are resilient.

In all fairness, there was some truth to their words. When London came downstairs on Sunday morning, she seemed to have forgotten completely about her tantrum from the night before. She was in a chatty mood and was even happier when I let her have Lucky Charms while I went upstairs to clean her hamster cage. I filled half a plastic bag with soiled shavings-it was disgusting-and tossed it into the garbage can. In the far corner, I saw London’s bicycle and, though it was already getting hot outside, I knew what she and I could do this morning.

“Hey,” I said to London when I got back inside. “Do you want to do something fun this morning?

“What?” she asked.

“Why don’t we go bike riding again? Maybe without the training wheels.”

“I’ll fall,” she said.

“I promise that you won’t fall. I’ll be right beside you and I’ll hold on to the seat.”

“I haven’t ridden a bike in a long time.”

And never without training wheels, I thought. “That’s okay. If you don’t like it or you get scared, we can stop.”

“I’m not scared,” she said. “But Mommy won’t like it if I’m all sweaty.”

“If you get sweaty, you’ll just wash up. No big deal. Do you want to give it a try?”

She thought about it. “Maybe for a little while,” she hedged. “When’s Mommy coming home?”

As if my wife heard our daughter from miles away, my cell phone rang. Vivian’s name popped up on the screen. “Well, let’s find out. It’s your mom,” I said, reaching for it. “She must have been thinking about you.” I connected the call and hit the speaker. “Hey, babe. How are you? How did it go? I’ve got you on speaker and London is here.”

“Hey, baby girl!” Vivian said. “How are you! I’m so sorry I didn’t call you yesterday. I’ve been running around like crazy since I’ve been here. How are you? How was yesterday?”

“It was so much fun,” London answered. “I went to Nana’s and then Daddy and me and Auntie Marge and Auntie Liz went to see a movie, and it was really funny…”

While Vivian chatted with London, I refilled my coffee and motioned that I was going back to the bedroom to change. I tossed on some shorts and a T-shirt and the pair of shoes I used to wear to the gym. Back in the kitchen, London was telling her mom about the hamsters and Vivian finally asked for me.

I picked up the phone, taking it off speaker.

“Hey there,” I said.

“She’s in a good mood. Sounds like you two have been having a lot of fun. I’m jealous.”

I hesitated, thinking about last night. “It’s been okay. How did last night go on your end?”