“Look,” I said, “We talked about this last night. We’ve been talking about this for weeks. My answer is the same as your mom’s: no way. Sorry buddy.”
It wasn’t a new argument. Tom looked up at me under the visor of his Jay’s hat, but I kept my attention focused on the crossing lights. I didn’t have to look down to see his face set resolute, against a world of perpetual frustration that every twelve year old has to struggle with.
“I should be able to take a train by myself,” he said, “I do it every weekend when I come to visit you.”
“Sure,” I replied, “To Ajax or Oakville, not Edmonton. If you want to go to Edmonton, your mom or I are coming with you. It’s as simple as that.”
He snorted twice; first through his nose, then a second time through his mouth, frustrated at the inability of the first snort to accurately convey his disgust. We’d had this conversation the night before over dinner and I knew his lack of progress was aggravating him.
“Anyway,” I said, “You don’t even have a place to stay. You think you’re just going to sleep at someone you’ve never met before’s house?”
“It’s called a motel,” he said.
“It’s called money,” I said, “Motels cost money.” I laughed a bit and put my hand on the top of his head to ruffle his hat. He ducked and took a step back. I put my hands in my pockets, “Like I said, if you want to pay for your mom or I to go out there with you and stay in a motel, that can be your Christmas gift.”
“I told you last night her mom said she was fine with me staying there for the weekend or whatever,” he said, “They have a spare room.”
“Did her mom tell you that?” I asked.
He was quiet for a moment. Then, “No.”
We walked the next block in silence. The Jay’s game had lasted for the better part of the afternoon, but it was only now I noticed myself feeling tired as the beer I hadn’t felt during the game began to wear off. I’d thought the divorce would be harder on Tom than it was, but he’d seemed to get through it with only what Dr. Nakashimi had described as “healthy” lingering resentments. I’d found out about Claire from Nakashimi, which was when the silent weekends Tom had spent locked away in the condo’s spare bedroom typing furiously had suddenly made sense. ‘She’s just a friend!’ he’d said when I’d asked and I’d laughed, quietly grateful that of all things he’d had a girl his age, whom he’d never met in person, to help him talk things through.
I stopped for a moment and let Tom catch up. “People aren’t always the same way you think they are,” I said.
“What do you mean?” he said. He took off his hat, pushed his hair back, and then put it on again.
We were closer to the condo now and the sun was beginning to set. It wasn’t cold but I kept my hands in my pockets and looked up at the skyline. “Edmonton is just a long way to go for someone you’ve never met in person. Sometimes the way you want people to be isn’t the way they are, even if you really think you’re sure about it, and that’s people you know in person. Buddy, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up, spend a lot of money, and then be disappointed when things aren’t the way you expected.”
“Dad,” he said, “I’ve talked to her on Skype. I know she isn’t some creepy old guy —I’ve practically met her in person. You can talk to her mom and find out if it’s okay!”
“Sure, but you still aren’t taking the train alone -hey, don’t get pissed off, I’m not being unreasonable,” I said and smiled a bit by accident.
“I’m not pissed,” he said.
“I can tell,” I said, then added, “You’re pretty easy to read when we’re right here, Tom, but when we talk on Skype there’s a difference, you know. It’s harder.”
“I’m just thinking about how to get there without spending money,” he said quietly.
I did my best not to laugh. “If you find a way, let me know, because I’d love to travel without spending money. ”
“Thanks Dad,” he said.
I paused for a moment. “There are all those other girls you know at school, your friends,” I said, “I just don’t get why you’re so dead-set on traveling across the country to meet this one who you’ve never met. What if she lives in a trailer park?”
“Dad!” he said, “She doesn’t live in a trailer park and I just do, all right? She’s different than my friends here. Maybe you’re too old to understand or something, it’s not hard. She’s just different.”
We were at the condo now and I swiped my key FOB to open the door to the lobby. “Okay, okay,” I said, “let’s talk about this later.”
We rode the elevator in silence. Inside the condo Tom sat on the couch with his laptop and turned the television on. I took my shoes off and went the washroom. I peed, wiped down the bowl and flushed, then poured a glass of water and took a slow breath. I looked in the mirror and was angry that I still looked the same. Nothing had changed, but when I’d seen Heather last she’d said I looked younger. I set the glass down on the counter and went to watch T.V. with Tom.
