“Okay,” Conway said, moving her legs so he could get by. “But don’t tell him I told you about that.”
“I won’t, I won’t.”
Carver moved through the house toward the backyard, trying to ignore the ache he felt in his thighs and calves whenever he walked at a faster pace than a mince.
It was a beautiful morning, and the sun shone on an idyllic picture in the backyard: Maggie throwing a tennis ball for Ralph while Chip played with Bailey and Aaron a few feet away. Someone had piled up a bunch of cushions from patio furniture in the soft grass, and Chip was picking up each child and tossing them into the pile like lawn darts. They would land, bounce, then leap to their feet giggling and asking to go again.
As Carver approached Chip, Ralph darted over to him, a streak of fluid gold. “I don’t have the ball,” he said, showing his empty hands, and Ralph touched each palm with a cool black nose. “I don’t have it, buddy.” Ralph darted away, back to Maggie.
Chip continued throwing the children without looking up, but as Carver sidled up next to him, he said, “Hey.”
“Hey,” Carver said, watching Aaron sail through the air and land like a feather. “How much do these kids weigh?”
“I don’t know,” Chip said. “Maggie could tell you. Feels like about forty and fifty pounds respectively.” He lifted his sunglasses and looked down at Bailey, who was waiting to be thrown. “You know how much you weigh?”
She shook her head.
“Well, whatever it is, I’m getting tired,” Chip said. He was breathing heavily, though trying to hide this. Aaron came staggering over, looking dizzy.
“Yeah, if you want to take a break, I was actually coming out to see if we could talk for a second,” Carver said.
“Daddy, don’tstop,” Bailey said, with as much horror in her voice as if she were saying, “Daddy, don’t grind us up into meat paste.”
“Just give me a five-minute break, Jesus,” Chip said. “Go hang out with your mom. Maggie!” He called, and she looked over. “Let’s switch, throw me the tennis ball.”
Maggie shrugged and flung it to him with an impressive overhand; Chip caught it, and Ralph came running over to him while the children darted away.
“What’s up?” Chip said, and flung the tennis ball into an open stretch of grass. Ralph galloped away again.
“Does she know everything now?” Carver said, tipping his head in the direction of Maggie as she walked away from them.
“Yeah, I kind of had no choice but to fill her all the way in after she overheard some of the shit Mom was screaming at me this morning,” Chip said.
“Right. What does she think?”
“That our parents are out of their gourds.”
“She should already know that by now,” Carver said, laughing. Chip and Maggie had been together since college.
“Well, it’s not the first time she’s said it.”
“And, uh, how are you feeling about Mom and Dad?”
Chip snorted. “You mean Mom.”
“Are you maybe not crediting Dad with enough autonomy, here?”
“What autonomy? He’s made himself a fucking automaton. Do you think,” Chip said, lowering his voice as he bent to accept the slobbery tennis ball from Ralph, “if Maggie came to me after Aaron was born and told me he was another man’s baby, that I would just take that on the chin and carry on with my life? I’d burn the house down with all of us in it. No offense.”
“So, what, you think Dad should have burned us all to death? That’s the preferable outcome here?”
“No, but at least I’d understand it.”
“Well, you wouldn’t understand it, you’d be dead.”
Chip sighed. “I’m exaggerating, quit being so literal.”
“So what would you have actually done?”
