Perry tried to listen as his wife filled him in on a meeting she’d had, and something else about an upcoming baby shower she needed to purchase a gift for. Instead he watched the endearing thing she did as she spoke. The first time he’d noticed it was on a second or third date, after they’d seen a particularly bad movie together. After, they’d gone to a hole-in-the-wall diner and ordered chocolate shakes and greasy burgers. He had no recollection of what the story was about, only what she’d done when she began to tell it. Amelia had set her hands on either side of her plate, palms down. Then she took a deep breath and leaned in as if she were about to tell him a secret, a small anticipatory smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Perry found himself mirroring her, leaning in, too. Hanging on to her every word. It had endeared Perry to her the very first time, and it had never failed to since. Now, under the growing dusk and the twinkling lights of the patio, Perry found he had no idea what Amelia was talking about. And gone was that special feeling that he wanted to hear whatever it was she had to say.
Was this what happened when parents were on edge about their child? Or was it the inevitable fading of appreciation for your spouse that came with the passage of time? Perry loved his wife, always had. There was no better match for him. And he was pretty sure she felt the same. But somewhere along the way something had gone missing. And whatever it was, in its place was an ache for its return.
Later, they cleaned up the kitchen mostly in silence. Despite his full belly, Perry felt the ache. He glanced over at Amelia, and wondered if she felt the same.
“Would you like to go for a walk later?” he asked. She always enjoyed a stroll through their neighborhood on a warm summer night.
Instead she glided out into the living room and turned on the TV. “Maybe later.”
By the time the girls came back downstairs, Amelia was lying on the couch engrossed in a TV show. Something loud and gaudy flickered on the Bravo channel. Something he had zero desire to watch. Perry wiped down the kitchen counters and looked up just as Emma walked in. “Is that what you’re wearing?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.
Emma’s smile vanished as if he’d taken a whiteboard eraser to it. She looked down at her cutoff shorts and midriff shirt, then back at her father. Only now there was an expression of ire, enhanced by the rim of dark eye makeup she’d applied. Where was this coming from? he wondered. Alicia was dressed in far more modest attire, he noticed. And her eyes had less… black stuff on them. And certainly less ire.
Amelia, who probably couldn’t see what Perry saw from her seat in the living room, called out, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” Perry added quickly. “You look very nice, Em. But isn’t that a bit revealing?” Emma’s slim waist was exposed from the top of her low-rise shorts to just below what he imagined to be her bra line. He winced.
Instead of replying, she stomped off toward the living room. Well, fine. Now it was her mother’s turn to say something. Perry waited for Amelia to chime in. But she didn’t.
“You girls have fun, and check in with me by ten, okay?” she said. Her voice was downright chipper.
Perry trailed Alicia, who trailed Emma out to the living room.Emma leaned down and pecked her mother’s cheek goodbye. She did not come over and offer him one.
As she was heading out the door, he stopped her. “No swimming yet,” Perry reminded. “You haven’t been—”
“Cleared from my concussion,” Emma interjected. “I know, I know.”
Amelia flashed him a look, and Perry held his tongue. He didn’t want to ruin Emma’s night. After all, this was what he and Amelia had wanted, for Emma to be more social. To spend more time with friends and less time hidden behind her books alone in her room. Besides, Emma was a good kid. A great kid. He trusted her.
“Have fun,” he called meekly after them. What else was there to say?
As soon as the door closed, he turned to Amelia. “What was that?”
“What?” She seemed reluctant to drag her eyes from the television.
“Did you see what she was wearing? Since when does she dress like that?”
Amelia shrugged. “It’s not like she’s wearing it to school, and it is a Friday night with friends.”
Friends. Some of whom were boys. Perry knew what effect an outfit like that would’ve had on him at that age. “I don’t think she needs half her torso hanging out just because it’s a Friday night.”
Amelia put her hand to her forehead, as if she had a sudden headache. “Perry. I know it’s hard to watch her grow up, but trust me. It’s not a big deal. You should see what other girls wear every day.”
Perry didn’t care about what other girls wore. He had never liked that argument anyway. Who cared what everyone elsedid? This was their kid. And it was unlike her, even if it was like everyone else.
Amelia regarded him. “Why don’t you go for that walk? You seem tense. It’s a beautiful night.”
Perry considered this. He didn’t really feel like a walk anymore. “Sure you can’t join me?”
She shook her head. “I’m wiped out.”
“All right.” Upstairs Perry changed out of his work clothes. He tossed his shirt in the dry-cleaning bag and cinched it tight. Tomorrow he’d drop it at the cleaners. He set his camel-colored loafers on the bottom shelf of the walk-in closet, between the saddle-brown and the black ones. He scrutinized the row and straightened one wayward pair of loafers, before standing back to admire it. Satisfied, he flicked off the light and shut the doors. On his way down the hall, he paused in Emma’s doorway. She’d left the light on. Makeup and hair things were strewn across her desk. But there was her book, the one from the library she’d asked him to pick up for her a few days earlier. He walked in and picked it up. It was thick and heavy. A hardcover science fiction novel. He was pleased to see she was already on page 250. So maybe she wasn’t growing away as much as she was simply growing up. He set the book down, hating to leave it open on its back like that (ruins the spine!), but not wanting to be accused of snooping, and headed back downstairs.
“Last call for a walk,” he called from the foyer. He waited.
“Enjoy,” Amelia replied, absently. He gazed around the corner. She was stretched out across the cushions, the bright screen reflecting in her glasses.
“I may go for a drive,” he said, changing his mind.
