The Geography of You and Me(21)
Author: Jennifer E. Smith

Later, they took the subway back home, tired and sunburned. As they walked the last few blocks, Owen noticed for the first time an edge of coolness in the air, an early hint of the shifting season. His first thought was of home—not so much the house in Pennsylvania as his mother—and his second, of course, was to recall that it didn’t exist anymore. At least not the way he remembered it.

Beside him, Dad seemed lost in thought, too, but when Owen looked over, he offered a smile “Not a bad day, huh?” he said. “Maybe we should do something tonight, too. Go see a musical or something?” He laughed at the expression on Owen’s face. “I’m only kidding. Maybe just a movie… or hey, what about the planetarium? That’s probably more up your alley.…”

As they walked up to the revolving doors, Owen was momentarily lost for words. He didn’t know whether to be cautious or hopeful. Every night since they’d been here, Dad had simply disappeared into his room after dinner. He’d always been a morning person, so going to bed early wasn’t unusual, but ever since the accident, it seemed that all he did was sleep, like it was some sort of drug and he couldn’t get enough of it. All this week, it had been even worse, worn down as he was by the lingering effects of the heat exhaustion, and Owen had assumed tonight would be no different.

But now it seemed possible he was starting to wake up again.

As they swung through the doors—Dad first, followed by Owen in the next compartment—he readied his response. “That sounds great,” he would say, as they spilled out onto the other side. “I’d really like that.”

But when he stepped out of the carousel and into the lobby, he stumbled straight into Dad, who was standing stock-still in front of the doors. Owen looked around him to see the broad back of Sam Coleman, who was leaning on the desk and talking to a man in a blue shirt with a cap that read EMK Plumbing.

For a moment, Owen considered bolting. He thought about shoving his father through the doorway to the mailroom and straight downstairs, where they could order a pizza and turn on a movie and act like none of it had happened: the accident or the move or the blackout, the trip to Coney Island and the sad and weary aftermath.

But instead, he simply watched as Dad squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Everything okay there, Sam?” he called out, and both men turned in their direction.

Sam smiled—a smile that felt like its opposite—and the plumber lowered his clipboard. “That him?” he asked, and Sam nodded, stepping forward.

“Hey there, Buckleys,” he said, all friendliness and teeth. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Dad said shortly. “What’s happening?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, like he was surprised Dad wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. “You have a real knack for picking your days off,” he said with a short laugh. “We had a little issue with the pipes this afternoon.” He turned to Owen. “Hope you don’t get seasick, ’cause you practically need a boat to get around down there.”

“We’ve got it sorted out now,” the plumber said, scanning his clipboard. “It’ll be just fine.”

Sam nodded. “Yup,” he said. “He’s got it sorted out now. But what I’d like to know is why he found the valve still loose on the pump.”

Owen had been standing there listening with clenched fists, but now his heart plummeted. He cast a wild glance in Dad’s direction and saw that his face had drained of color. But he didn’t move a muscle; he stood entirely still, his eyes fixed on Sam.

“I guess I must not have tightened it up enough,” he said, his words slow and measured.

“Well, somebody sure didn’t,” the plumber chimed in, looking up. “That wasn’t real smart.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Sam said. “Not real cheap, either.”

The plumber shook his head and gave a low whistle.

Owen stepped forward. “Listen,” he said, but Dad held up a hand, and he was pulled up short, falling abruptly silent.

“It’s my fault,” Dad said to Sam, who bobbed his head.

“You bet it is,” he agreed, the false smile wiped from his face. “And look, I know you’re family, and I know you’re going through a rough patch here, but I can’t have this kind of sloppy work in one of my buildings, especially not after what happened the other day.”

Dad said nothing, but he kept his back very straight as he listened.

“I don’t feel good about this, Patrick,” Sam was saying. “I don’t feel good about it at all. But I’ve got to find someone I can rely on.”

“I understand,” Dad said, his voice tight.

Sam rubbed at the back of his neck, his eyes cutting over to Owen. “You can take your time getting out of the apartment, okay? Take all the time you need.”

“That’s good of you,” Dad said. “But we’ll be out by the end of the week.”

“Okay,” Sam said.

“Okay,” Dad said.

“Okay,” the plumber said, tearing off a bill and handing it over to Sam.

Owen was still staring dumbly at the scene before him, but when Dad began to cross the lobby, heading for the basement door, he snapped back, hurrying after him.

Dad said nothing as they walked down the stairs, nothing as he led them through the concrete hallways, ducking his head below the pipes that ran across the ceiling like a maze. It wasn’t until they were inside the apartment with the door closed behind them that he let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. He leaned against the wall, the same place where he’d been huddled when he’d come back from Coney Island the other night, visibly shaken.

Owen was the first to speak. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I was the one who didn’t close the valve all the way.”

Dad smiled wearily. “I was the one who should have reminded you.”

“You were sick.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “You couldn’t possibly know how to do something like that. It was my job and my responsibility. So it’s my fault.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Hey,” he said, looking up sharply. “It’s fine. We’re going to be fine.”

Owen said nothing, only watched as Dad pushed himself off the wall, walking over to the kitchen, where he opened one of the drawers and pulled out the box of cigarettes. He held it for a moment, just looking at it, then opened the lid with great care. But when he saw there was only one left, he set it gently back in the drawer.