Lucky Caller(67)

“Incredible,” he said when I was done. “Seriously. I’m so happy for you guys.” It was quiet for a moment. “And … I know it sounds like it turned out a million times better than it would have if just plain old me had shown up. But still … sorry I couldn’t get there for you, kid.”

“It’s okay.”

“No. I said I would, and then…”

“It’s fine.” A beat. “What are you doing right now?” He was never just on the phone—phone conversations were more of an add-on to something else.

“Just stopped for gas. These prices, Christ. Maybe I’ll become one of those pricks who go around on racing bikes like they’re in the Tour de France. Get one of those head-to-toe spandex outfits. Neon green.”

I gave a breath of laughter, and then it was quiet.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

I could see him in my mind, standing at a gas pump while his car filled up. Probably afterward he’d go inside and pick up a pack of spearmint gum and some cigarettes. He tried quitting every couple of years—it never stuck for long.

“Do you remember those bears you got us, with the yellow dresses?”

“You mean Honey Bear? Of course I do.”

Irrational tears pricked my eyes. “I can’t find mine.”

“Yeah, ’cause it’s here.”

That was it. I remembered. Of course it was.

“Remember you left it when I moved out here? To keep me company? Well, and keep you company too I guess, when you visit, but I will admit I co-opted it. I actually keep it on my desk in my office. Reminds me of my girls.”

I swallowed. “I forgot about that.”

“Well, that’s where it’s at. Why do you ask?”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “Just wondering.”





65.


MOM WAS SITTING AT THE dining room table a little later that night, laptop open, a thick book titled GRE PREP PLUS open next to it. Sidney and Rose were both in our room, working on homework.

I was on the couch, flipping through TV channels. I had homework too, but it was very hard to find the motivation. Instead I went back and forth between a reality show about a pet salon and a sitcom rerun.

We had been to the usual Sunday night dinner at Dan’s earlier in the evening, before Dad had called. I had tried to give Dan an envelope containing the Camera Repair Fund. He had long since fixed it, but I figured it was better late than never.

“This is really kind of you,” he had said, “but it’s not necessary.”

“I know that. But … I broke it, so it’s my responsibility.”

Dan had considered this for a moment, and then nodded, taking the envelope. “Thank you, Nina. I really appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome.”

A moment later, a smile teased his lips. “By the way, did I mention I had an early graduation present for you?” he had said, and then handed the envelope back.

I looked over at my mom now. She had her glasses on—green plastic with gold accents. She only used them for reading. Right now she was peering at her computer screen, brows furrowed slightly, eyes searching.

“I found a tape,” I said.

“Hm?”

“I found a tape. When I was looking in the storage room.”

Mom looked over. The readers magnified her eyes.

“Oh?”

“Conrad and Mickey: The Supercut. It was from when you and Dad met, on the radio.”

“Ah.” A pause. “His producer made that for us, for our wedding. Tracked down a recording of the call.”

“Producer Shoebox?”

“The very one. He was your father’s best man.”

“How was his speech?”

“As terrible as you’d expect.”

“Sound effects?”

“Without the soundboard, he resorted to doing them himself.”

“Yikes.”

Mom took off her glasses, hooked them on the collar of her shirt. “Is that what you’ve been listening to with that Walkman?”

“Yeah.” I flipped channels again, and the sitcom laugh track burst to life. “I liked hearing it. Even if you weren’t the lucky caller.”

“I was, though.”

I looked over. “But you didn’t win. That was the whole point, right?”

“No,” she said, considering. “I never got tickets. I always called and missed out, that’s true. But I got him to pick up the phone. And because of that, and because of that stupid conversation—” She smiled a little, like she was remembering. I can’t give tickets away to every girl whose voice I like. “Well, we met. And we went out, and everything that happened after … everything, all of it, even the bad parts, it led us to you. And that was lucky, Nina. The luckiest thing that ever happened to me.”

I thought of what Sasha had said: It doesn’t devalue what you had with them, the stuff you experienced, the time you spent together. That’s still valid, even if it wasn’t built to last. It’s not any less significant.

I swallowed, and for a second the coffee shop scene on TV went blurry.

“I’m glad you called,” I said.