“Nine months. Well, actually, forty weeks.”
“Forty weeks?” He gasps. “Impossible.”
I know my father’s cognition is sliding, but it’s hard for me to track. Sometimes he is completely cogent; other times, like now, he seems to be pulling from cached memories mixed with conjecture; and occasionally he goes quiet and seems completely lost, unable to get any kind of grip on reality. It’s hard to witness, though I know it could be worse. Many with his disease are plagued by panic, fear, paranoia. My father, miraculously, still seems to have faith in the general flow of life. And he appears to trust me completely.
We sit silently as the fire settles. Dominic’s huge body is spread over my father’s lap like a blanket, and before long, both the cat and my father are asleep. I pick up my laptop to draft what I think is a gracious reply to Gemma. I let her know that while I cherish the memory of my years at Actualize, I am currently embroiled in an exciting new project with my father. He is an oracle, I tell her, endowed withpsychic gifts that are only growing stronger as his cognition wanes. It’s not a lie, because I half believe it; and besides, Gemma loves this kind of stuff. I tell her I would be happy to continue writing copy on a freelance basis, although I will have to raise my rates, given how busy I am with my new venture. I also tell her she is welcome to come to Locust to meet the oracle, though I know she’ll never drive this far. Still, I feel a little thrill as I hit send. In the new world order of my imagination, Gemma will have to come to me.
Chapter 25
As Nina’s arrival approaches, my father and I make a run into town to pick up some presents and supplies for the holiday week ahead. None of us is especially gift oriented, but I want to make sure we have a few things to unwrap on Christmas morning. Deb’s Depot is the obvious destination, given how jam-packed it is with the most random merchandise imaginable. We choose flannel pajamas for Nina and a buffalo-check work shirt for Nils; then I send my father off to browse on his own so I can find a gift for him. He won’t remember even if he spies what I’m buying, but I feel the need to uphold a certain amount of Christmas protocol. I choose a hat with ear flaps, an electric mosquito-swatter in the shape of a tennis racquet, a pack of maple candy, and the extra-long matches that he likes. When I’m satisfied, I go aisle by aisle and finally find my father near the hunting equipment.
“This is the one,” he says definitively, holding up something called the EZ Grunter Xtreme, which is a tubelike object that mimics a deer’s call. We are not hunters, but he seems enamored, and I figure we’ll find some use for it.
“Perfect,” I say, adding it to my basket. As we make our way toward the checkout, my father also picks up a block of cheddar cheese, a giant popcorn tin, and a pair of tiny socks with snowmen on them.
“I’m not sure we need these,” I say of the socks.
“For the baby?”
“We don’t have a baby.”
“Do we not?” He puts the socks back.
When we get to the cash register, the woman working it is picking at a hangnail. It’s not Deb, but she looks like she could be a close relative.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
“You know. Livin’ the dream,” the woman deadpans. I find her blasé manner both off-putting and refreshingly honest. “You are the only ones who’ve been in all day.”
I grab a few extra items—a moose-shaped lollipop, a pack of batteries, a lighter—in a modest attempt to boost the store’s bottom line.
The smattering of businesses in Locust generate most of their revenue between Memorial and Labor Days, when tourists stream through at a steady clip. The off-season represents a fight for survival, and though Deb’s Depot has held its own for thirty years, this particular employee doesn’t seem optimistic about business.
“Let’s get a lotto ticket,” says my father. “I’ve got scratch fever.”
I laugh and try to gauge whether he’s joking. This is unlike him, but then I feel a frisson of excitement—perhaps this is his next premonition. “Do you think we’ll win?”
“Of course not,” he says. “Trust me—you don’t want to win the lottery. It will ruin your life. But it’s still fun to play. Dance with danger.”
We buy a few tickets.
“Merry Christmas,” the checkout woman says halfheartedly as we gather our things.
“Same to you,” says my father with genuine enthusiasm.
Outside the store, a motion-sensor Santa raises its arm and gives us a jerky “HO, HO, HO!” before keeling forward into the snow face-first.
I pull Santa back onto his feet, brush him off, and assure him: “You’re doing great.”
Chapter 26
From the moment they arrive, Nina and Nils are like puppies at play. I have never seen my sister like this—radiant, relaxed, even a little rambunctious. One afternoon, while I am sorting Dad’s medications for the coming week, I look out the window and see them having an impromptu snowball fight. Nils is younger than Nina, closer to my age, and he’s not an academic, as her other boyfriends have been—he’s a chef. It’s a surprising choice for my sister, but it’s clear that something has shifted since she left for Europe. A weight has lifted, or perhaps it has been transposed to me. As I have become more ensconced, Nina has become more liberated. Observing the two of them scampering through the snow, I feel a flicker of envy. But my sister deserves this renaissance—she did her time in the woods. Even before she took care of our father, she somehow served as the pillar of our family. From a young age, she always had a seriousness about her. I’m glad she is finally learning to frolic.
On Christmas Day, after we have opened our presents and no one has won the lottery, we all settle into different corners of the house. My father rests by the fire with Dominic, and Nils watchesHome Alonefor the first time, trying to understand why it has such an outsized cultural impact in the US. I am in the kitchen, clearing crumbs and drying dishes, feeling good about the state of things. Nils is easy to be around, and he balances out some of the other dynamics between the three of us. He is easygoing with my dad, and he helps Nina to not take things too seriously.
Nina seizes the moment to pull me aside. She grins but saysnothing. I grin back. She keeps grinning, so I grin more. This is getting weird.
“Cricket,” she says, as if it’s obvious, “I’m pregnant.”
