Chapter 24: The Middle of the Picture

I looked at the man on the other side of the iron fence.

He had a chip in his pocket and a paper cup in his hands.

He was asking me for the thing he had always asked for.

"No," I said.

His face did not fall right away.

"Lana, I'm sober. I'm in a program. I go to every visit."

"Good."

"I could be a different man."

"You can be a different man for Junie," I said.

"You can be a better father on Sundays, for as long as you keep showing up."

"But not for you."

"Not for me."

I did not say it softly, and I did not leave out the real part.

"You gave my daughter's bed to your son, and you told me I should be grateful. I'm not coming back to that."

He looked at the swings, where Junie was pushing Eli higher than he wanted to go.

"Does she hate me?"

"No," I said. "She asks when your next Sunday is."

His throat moved.

He nodded once, set the cup on the fence post, and walked away down the sidewalk.

I did not translate him to myself.

I stood in the afternoon sun and let him be exactly what he was.

On the last Friday of October the school gym smelled of face paint and popcorn.

A paper banner hung over the stage and said Fall Costume Show.

The same teacher stood at the edge of it with the same camera.