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That left the Reptile House, and Da
I was glad to see them, shuffling around in a glass-fronted cage that might, at one time, have housed alligators or crocodiles.
They weren't Emperor penguins. According to the plaque, these were Fiordland Crested penguins, an endangered species, with long, pale-yellow slashes over their eyes, like an old man's eyebrows.
"Da
"They have captured these penguins! What crime the penguins perform to make them prisoners, I do not know. The snakes! Hah, that is easy, they bite the peoples, and they are, anyway, Satan's spawn, as is said long ago in your Bibles."
I jumped, I think. I turned, and there he was.
He was dressed exactly as he had been last night. The lights in the Reptile House were muted, and his pale flesh seemed to glow with a faint blue sheen. He had restored his eyebrows since I'd last seen him, and he appeared to have added purple lipstick to his cosmetic effects.
"It is good to meet you again, Mr. Sam Silvers. I hope you remember me. I am Derrick Thorn."
"What are you doing here?"
He nodded vigorously, as though I were a good student who had asked a clever question.
"I am enjoying the seeing of the animals that are here for their offenses." He spread his arms and turned slowly to the left and right to demonstrate how his enthusiasm included all the creatures in the room.
Odd didn't begin to describe this guy.
"Did you follow me here?" I asked.
"I am coming after you did. Would that be to follow? You told me you were to come to this zoos with the child person of your support."
"I did?"
"Yes, and I am pleased to be here and to witness the progeny of your troubles."
"Well, fine. Look, I've got to be going. Derrick, you have a nice day."
I grabbed Da
"I will be pleased to be having the nice day, Sam Silvers," he shouted. "I will make for you the nice day also. I have not forgotten our bargains."
The temperature had dropped, and the snow was falling with new purpose, frosting the parking lot, glazing car roofs and fenders. I dug through the glove compartment's summer detritus (daytrip maps, sunglasses, suntan lotion, an amusement park brochure) until I found the ice scraper.
I got out of the car and went around to the front windshield where I began scraping a gritty mix of snow and ice from the glass. From within, Da
Back in the car, I had to sit for a minute, catching my breath, as though I'd been engaged in heavy labor.
"Dad, who were you talking to?"
"Just some guy I met recently," I said. I looked at my son. Da
I leaned over and ruffled his hair. "Your mom says you've got a girlfriend."
Da
"All right!" I turned the key in the ignition. "My kind of woman," I said, as the car moved slowly forward.
I returned Da
"I tried to call you on your cell," she said. She knelt down in the doorway and brushed snow from her son's hair and shoulders. She looked up at me. "It's out-of-service. Why's that?"
I shrugged. "I decided I didn't need a cell phone."
She stood up for a better, unimpeded glare. "If this arrangement is going to work, I need to be able to get ahold of you. The roads are bad. I was worried."
"Nothing to worry about," I said, squeezing Da
"It was great!" Da
I stopped at the bar on the way to my apartment. If I was going to quit drinking, it might make sense to move to other lodgings, but I wasn't going to, was I? I dispatched two beers and went on up to my apartment, pleased with my restraint. There were two six packs in the fridge, and I drank them, unintentionally. As I remember it, I drank a single beer and didn't wish to leave an odd number of beers, so I drank another one. After that, my reasoning grew convoluted until it occurred to me that drinking
all the beer in the fridge, thus leaving none to tempt me in the morning, would be a good start on a new, beer-free life.
My phone rang in the chill of the morning, and I burrowed under the covers, a rabbit fleeing the hounds, and I heard my answering machine click on-"This is Sam Silvers. I'm not here"-and Victoria 's voice: "Sam."
I leapt from the bed and snatched up the receiver, hearing the fear in her voice, and knowing, instantly, the precise sound of
this fear, its only possible subject, our only shared and immutable bond. "Da
We sat on the sofa while the detectives interviewed us. "On a school day," Victoria said, "Da
To someone who didn't know her, my ex-wife might have appeared calm, purposeful, in control, the slight tremor in her folded hands understandable enough. But I could see the care with which she answered every question, as though each word, the order of each word and its cautious articulation, might restore the world to sanity, might, by its intense rationality, restore our son. She would not break down; she would not show emotion. To do such a thing would be to collaborate in Da
This I knew of Victoria, and my heart ached for her, as it ached for myself. And Da
her wakefulness. That seemed a long time ago, in a distant, implausible past.
When I left Victoria, it was to accompany the detectives back to my apartment. I was aware that I was a suspect-or at least an obligatory part of the investigation-and I wasn't surprised or offended by this. How often had an ex-husband, frustrated by circumstances that kept him from seeing his child, simply grabbed the kid and run? They weren't going to find Da
I answered all their questions. Most of the questions were asked by the shorter cop, a black man with high cheekbones and a formal way of speaking, the word "sir" punctuating his sentences with sibilant force. The other officer was taller, older, white and balding, and I noticed he would occasionally interrupt to ask a question his partner had already asked. I guess he was interested in what my answers would sound like the second time I gave them.