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AIDAN is running around the playroom with his arms spread wide, making a whooshing sound like he’s an airplane. His toys are all over the floor, but he manages not to trip on them. I’m on the sofa reading a comic book, and Sue is sitting by the window, close to my train set, with her nose stuck in a novel. She’s Aidan’s nanny, and all her books have drawings on the covers of people kissing.
I’d like to go downstairs, maybe to Mr. Hayes office. He’s the manager of our hotel, and sometimes, he lets me walk beside him in the lobby when he greets the guests. He says the Swanson Court Hotel has a reputation for ‘sterling’ service, which means that you have to give people what they want before they ask for it. Sue says I can’t go downstairs because Mom will be back soon.
Aidan suddenly stops running and comes to peer at my comic book. I close the page I’m reading because there’re zombies in it, and he’s only four years old.
He makes a face and reaches for the book, and I stretch my hand up, holding it high enough so his fingers can’t touch it.
“I wanna see,” he complains, sticking out his lower lip.
Sue looks up at us. “Let him see, Landon,” she says, frowning in my direction. She’s really tiny, with short red hair, like a boy’s, and she just wants Aidan to be quiet so she can go back to reading her kissing book.
I start to think of a way to distract Aidan, but the door opens before I come up with anything.
“Mommy!” Aidan squeals, forgetting all about me as he runs towards her.
Mom scoops him up in her arms. “How’s my darling little boy?” she says with a bright smile as Aidan settles his head on her shoulder. She buries her nose in his hair and sniffs, before turning her smile to me and holding out a hand. “Landon, come say hi.” Her voice is soft and gentle, like her, most of the time. Today, she’s wearing a white, flowy suit, and her curly blond hair is around her shoulders. She’s beautiful. Everybody says so, even in the newspapers.
“Hi, mom.” I get up and walk towards her outstretched hand, wondering if she’ll let me go downstairs to Mr. Hayes. She ruffles my hair and smiles down at me. “Your Dad is coming back tonight. Isn’t that wonderful?”
I forget about going downstairs. “When is he coming?”
She shrugs. “He’ll be here around seven in the evening, maybe.”
I look down at my new watch. My grown up wristwatch. That’s what my dad called it when he gave it to me before he traveled. “Five hours. Cool.”
Mom laughs. I know she’s happy too. My dad is away on business. He didn’t travel so much before, but now he wants to expand our hotel, so he has to go to different cities. Sometimes, they fight on the phone, my mom and dad, especially when he’s gone for very long. I heard Dad tell her that she listens too much to the ‘trash’ people say. They were fighting when he said that, but they made up. They always make up when he comes back.
“Will Daddy tuck me in tonight?” Aidan asks.
“Of course,” Mom tells him, chuckling. “They haven’t been any trouble?” She’s talking to Sue, who has quickly hidden her kissing book under some cushions.
“No, they’ve been rather sweet.”
Mom looks at Aidan, who’s still resting his head on her shoulder, looking as cute as an angel, then at the comic book I’ve tucked under my arm. Her eyebrows go up. She doesn’t like the ones with zombies. “I doubt that,” she replies Sue with a sigh.
They start talking about something else, then Donna, the maid, comes to the door holding the phone receiver. “Call for you, Mrs. Court,” she says to my mom.
“Who is it?”
“Mrs. Buckley.”
Mom sighs and sets Aidan on his feet, before going to the door to take the receiver from Donna. Mrs. Buckley is mom’s friend Auntie Thelma, who mom laughingly calls a busybody. I don’t like her, and I don’t think Mom does very much either.
She takes the receiver with her, talking as she leaves us in the playroom. Aidan starts to run around again, singing a silly song he made up, so I leave him there with Sue and follow Mom to her sitting room. It’s my favorite place in our whole apartment. It has billowy lace curtains, a reading nook with lots and lots of books, and a soft sofa that smells just like Mom.
She is standing by the windows with the receiver to her ear. “No, it’s fine,” I hear her say. “Thanks for telling me.”
From the sound of her voice, I know something is wrong. She stands still for a few moments, then starts to press the buttons on the receiver. When she puts it to her ear and starts talking again, her voice is angry, the way it always sounds when she’s fighting with Dad.
“Someone saw you!” she says accusingly. “You had dinner with her and then you went upstairs together. Do you know how embarrassed I am? How am I supposed to believe you when the same thing keeps happening all the time?”
I don’t understand everything she says, but I can tell that she’s mad at Dad. After a few more words, she tosses the receiver at the wall, then puts her face in her hands as it clatters to the floor. She’s sobbing loudly. I wish Dad would come home right now. He’ll tell her he loves her and she’ll be happy again.
“Mom?”
She spins around and sees me, then she quickly turns away again, but not before I see the tears on her face.
“Mom…” I try to think of something to say. All the things Dad usually says to make her smile, but now I can’t remember anything.
