Page 18 of A Map to Paradise

17

June leaned against her kitchen counter and watched Nicky Kolander eat pieces of triangle-shaped cinnamon toast. Her grandmother had always cut her toast and sandwiches like that when she was young. June still liked the way it looked on a plate with the points meeting in the center like four kissing cousins.

It had been Eva’s idea to bring Nicky over to the house that afternoon so that Melanie could run into Santa Monica and buy a few Christmas presents for him. June, who had agreed, was peeved, though—not at Melanie but at that brother of hers, Alex.

“You telling me she still hasn’t heard a peep from this guy in a week?” she’d said to Eva.

“Nothing.”

June had shaken her head, and not for the first time in the last couple of days. She’d done the same when she’d first learned from Eva what Melanie’s so-called long-lost brother had done to her, and again yesterday when Melanie sent Eva over to the house before her usual arrival time to borrow carpet cleaner—Nicky had gotten chocolate pudding on Mrs. Gilbert’s white carpet—and then three hours later when she heard from across the yard Melanie banging on the front door to be let back in the house. Nicky had locked her out. Apparently accidentally. But still.

Melanie was clearly in over her head. And that brother was as irresponsible as he was heartless and unkind. Who abandons their child a week before Christmas, leaving him with an aunt he’s never met and without even asking her first? Who does that?

Despite her own troubles, June felt sorry for her neighbor.

Melanie had looked frazzled and nearly unrecognizable with her pretty hair pulled back under a scarf and wearing big sunglasses when she dropped Nicky off.

“He won’t bother Elwood, will he?” Melanie had asked.

“He won’t be bothered, I assure you. We’ll stay downstairs.”

Melanie had nodded and then just stood there on the welcome mat as Eva ushered Nicky into the house and then led him through the living room to June’s kitchen.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” June had said.

“I know he will. Eva is really good with him.”

Still she’d lingered.

“Is there something else you need, Melanie?” June had asked, supposing Melanie was again going to ask to see Elwood. She readied herself to say no.

“Maybe…Um. Did you have little brothers? Or nephews? Do you have friends with grandsons?”

“Oh. I’m afraid not.”

“All right. I just…I don’t know what little boys like.” Melanie had sounded lost and young. “I don’t know anything about how to care for little boys.”

Again, that brother! What a cad, June had wanted to say.

“Just ask the clerk at whatever toy store you go into what little boys like,” she’d said instead. “Or if you see a mother shopping for her own children, ask her. I’m sure kids his age aren’t that difficult to please.”

Melanie had exhaled heavily. “I suppose you’re right,” she said, but she hadn’t turned to leave.

The young woman was a pitiful sight.

“I’m just not…I—,” Melanie stammered. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I really don’t.”

“Look,” June said. “This is none of my business, but I think your brother is expecting too much from you. Especially right now. If you want my opinion, you should scoop up that little boy and fly home to Omaha. Take him to your mother and father. They’re his grandparents, aren’t they? And they do know how to take care of a little boy, although it appears to me they’ve raised a near-narcissist in your brother. Is it true what Eva told me? That your brother hasn’t spoken to your parents in years and has instead been gallivanting around the globe?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Melanie had replied defensively after a beat. “And I don’t see how I can just show up at my parents’ with him. They don’t even know about Nicky.”

“Why not? Why don’t they know?”

“Alex has his reasons.”

“Because your parents were terrible to you and your brother growing up? Is that it? Did they beat you two? Demean you? Neglect you? Withhold love and affection from you?”

“Well, no. It’s not that.”

“Then it seems to me his reasons, whatever they are, are about him and only about him. If you ask me, that man has no regard for the impact of his actions on other people. That makes him about as self-centered as a person gets. And if you think I’m wrong about that, you tell me what kind of man dumps his child on a sister he hasn’t seen in years without so much as asking permission to do so and without any indication at all about how long he’s going to be gone. Is he running from loan sharks? The police? An angry husband?”

“I…I don’t think so.”

“Take that little boy home to his grandparents if you’re not feeling up to the task. Lord knows, if I were you, that’s what I would do.”

Melanie had looked past June and toward the kitchen, where Eva and Nicky were. June could hear him asking for cookies.

“But if Alex wanted my parents to be taking care of Nicky right now, he would have taken him to their house, wouldn’t he?” Melanie had asked.

What sway this brother has on her! June had thought. He must’ve long had it. Though he’d been estranged for years, he’d pulled his sister back into his little self-orbiting universe in just a matter of hours. June hadn’t met him and she already disliked him immensely.

“It seems to me your brother lost his vote on how to handle this situation the minute he chose to leave you alone in it. Your biggest concern right now shouldn’t be making sure your brother gets what he wants. Besides, I think it’s cruel of him to have kept your parents from having a relationship with their grandchild.”

Melanie’s eyes had instantly become rimmed in silvery tears, and June had felt bad at once; she’d said too much. “Look,” she tried in a softer tone, “you don’t have to decide today. But unless your brother comes back, you do get to decide what happens next with this little boy. I know you feel like you don’t get to decide much about your life right now, but you do get to decide this. And I know money is probably a bit tight. If that Mr. Edwards won’t buy your airline tickets for you and Nicky, I will.”

Melanie’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe you’re being so nice to me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” June had said, frowning.

“I…nothing. I just don’t feel like I deserve it right now. Because, well…” Her voice fell away. The two women stared silently at each other for several seconds until Melanie continued. “I’m sure my parents would wire me the money if I asked. I mean, I know they would. And I still have some savings left. But thank you for offering. I’ll think about it. I should go call for a taxi. And I won’t be long, I promise. You’re sure Elwood won’t mind Nicky being here for a little bit?”

“We’ll all be fine. Do what you need to do. And for heaven’s sake, take my car. You don’t need to call for a taxi.”

Melanie’s mouth had again dropped open in grateful surprise. For a moment it seemed Melanie was going to embrace her. The moment passed and June went to get her car keys.

Now as she watched Nicky eat the cinnamon toast—a nice alternative for the cookies June did not have—June could not stop thinking about how dumbfounded Melanie seemed at having someone be kind to her. She’d wanted to linger in Melanie’s awe and gratitude. She’d wanted that embrace. That moment had reminded her of what it was like to matter to someone.

There were many moments the first couple years after Frank had died when she’d felt so empty, and Elwood, though he had never been particularly adept at empathy, had somehow been able to figure out when she needed the kindness of another human to make it through another day. He’d lay a hand on her shoulder and allow her to lean back on him as she sat in a chair and he stood behind her. Or he’d kiss the top of her head lightly, so lightly. Or he’d put an arm around her as she sat on the couch and cried. He also seemed to have sensed that moment when her grief over Frank’s death had been replaced with lone desire for him. He was careful with his touch after that.

As she watched Nicky eat, it was like getting a glimpse of the life she had not chosen, a peek into a past she’d never gotten to live, a past that was haunting her these days with its possibilities.

If she had chosen Elwood from the beginning, would she have done this very thing in this same kitchen, albeit years earlier? Made cinnamon toast for her little boy and cut it into triangles? Poured him a glass of milk before heading out to shop for his Christmas presents? If she had indeed been the mother of a little boy named Nicky and the wife of a quiet but content man named Elwood, would she and her husband have gotten a sitter for Nicky on a day like this, maybe someone like Eva, and gone Christmas shopping together? Perhaps made a day of it. Gone out to dinner afterward. Toasted their prowess at choosing such fun toys for their son. Come home to kiss their child on the forehead as he lay asleep.

June closed her eyes there at the table and allowed herself to imagine that dream existence was the real one. She marveled at how solid it felt in that moment, not at all like the diaphanous place that was the real world, where everything that made you feel safe and secure seemed made of mere kindling for the tiniest of random flames to consume.

Impossible to protect.

As much as she didn’t want it to be true, the countdown to Max’s deadline had begun. She had to finish that script and mail it Christmas Eve so that it would be properly postmarked December 24. It would be too late after that. On Christmas Day she’d be driving out to Palm Springs and then returning to Malibu to await Max’s promised call the following day.

She’d already imagined and rehearsed that conversation.

Max would call on schedule and he’d ask, Is he any better?

And she would say something like, Actually, I think he might be. I mailed his script for him on Christmas Eve. It’s done, Max. Just like he promised. And then he had me take him out to his place in Palm Springs. He said he was ready to at last finish the journey he’d begun with Ruthie and then move on .

There would likely be a slight pause. And then, You’re kidding .

No. I’m not, she’d say. I think he might be turning a corner. I stayed with him through Christmas afternoon but by dusk he said he wanted to have the place to himself to figure some things out. He asked me to head back home and come back for him on New Year’s Eve .

Max would be incredulous. You’re telling me Elwood left the house after being holed up inside it for nearly a decade? And went to Palm Springs? In a car ? Just like that?

No, not just like that, she’d say. It was a big step for El and not an easy one. He took one of his sleeping pills and lay down in the back seat of the car. I waited until he was out before I opened the garage door. He slept for the whole drive. And when we got to Palm Springs, I waited for him to rouse before I helped him inside. And to tell you the truth, he didn’t need that much help. He walked from the carport to the front door pretty much all by himself. He started to get nervous just once. Then he was okay.

And you left him there? Alone?

He asked me very nicely to leave. It’s his place, Max. I couldn’t insist on staying. And anyway, I’ll have you know we spent much of Christmas Day sitting outside under that big red umbrella you bought in Mexico. The one with the—

I know what the umbrella looks like, June.

Well, he sat under it. Outside. And then we went for a little walk around the property just before I left. Yes, he leaned on me a little, but he was outside. I’d call that getting better, wouldn’t you?

Another slight pause would likely occur before Max would speak again.

Perhaps. Have you heard from him since you came home?

Of course not. You know there isn’t a telephone there.

Max might then say, Well, can’t a neighbor check on him?

June would need an answer for that.

That’s a good idea, she could say. I’ll see. It’s the holidays, though. It might not be that easy to find one at home. And I don’t know all the other homeowners in that neighborhood .

At this point she was sure Max would offer to go check on Elwood himself. He was chomping at the bit to talk to him anyway.

He would probably leave right after they hung up. He’d get to the bungalow, and then he’d dash back out to his car and drive to the convenience store two miles away and ask to use the phone to call the police since Elwood didn’t have one at his desert hideaway. Or he might bang on a neighbor’s door and use their phone if he could find one at home. He’d probably phone her then, too.

She’d have to sound distraught when Max called and appear doubly so when she met up with him later that day in Palm Springs.

How long would the police search for Elwood?

A couple months? Longer?

That script had to be in MGM’s mailbox before Elwood’s disappearance was reported: missing men don’t finish scripts.

Unless…

Unless she turned it in to MGM herself a few days into the New Year when it was looking more and more unlikely that Elwood would be found. That would give her more time. Perhaps she could tell the studio she’d just found the completed script in a desk drawer. That would give her another week, maybe two.

MGM would still be obligated to pay him. The work would have been delivered. She’d tell Max when they gave the check to him that she would deposit it into Elwood’s account as usual—Max knew she did Elwood’s banking—but she’d actually endorse the check to herself and deposit it into her own account and cross her fingers no one would notice.

And down the road, if Elwood’s accountant did notice, she’d inform him Elwood had promised her that money because of all the help she’d given him with that script. He’d left a note stating that. Yes, a note. Easy enough to forge.

It was the most money Elwood had ever been contracted to write a screenplay—ten thousand dollars. And it had to be enough for a down payment to buy back the Malibu house from Ruthie Brink’s sons. But she still needed to see about getting her old job back at Warner Brothers. Any bank that loaned her the rest of the money to buy the house was going to insist on assurance that she could make the monthly mortgage payment.

Everything still left to do was all too much to consider at the moment. Too much. She liked far, far better imagining herself Christmas shopping with the Elwood she had loved—the Elwood who should have married her and left her this house. Having a nice dinner with him. Coming home to his bed…

Eva touched her shoulder then and June’s eyes snapped open.

“Are you all right?” Eva asked.

“Oh! Yes. I was just…thinking.”

Eva moved away, looking slightly unconvinced.

June looked again at her guest. Nicky was finishing his last triangle. She stared at him for a long moment as she reacclimated herself to the here and now.

“Now what do we do?” the boy said to her.

“That’s a great question,” June said with a laugh, because it was. Now what do we do? was the perfect question.

Eva shot her a quick look, and then said, “We could make brownies.”

“Do you want to make brownies, Nicky?” June asked.

He shook his head. “Do you have soldiers?”

“Soldiers?”

“To play with. Green ones.”

“I have a chess set.”

“What’s a chest set?”

“Chess. It’s a game on a checkerboard. Moms and dads play it. You could pretend the pieces are soldiers, I think. There are kings and queens and castle rooks. And horses.”

“Okay.”

June, grateful for the distraction, retrieved Frank’s chess set from her closet shelf and took it outside to the patio. It was a beautiful day, high seventies, sunny and cloudless. Nicky followed her. So did Eva. Her back injury nearly healed, June nevertheless carefully lowered herself to a patio chair.

She unclasped the box and opened it on its hinges, revealing the chessboard and the pieces. Nicky picked up a white knight.

“The horse!”

“There are four of them, two white and two black,” June said. “If you want, I can show you how they go on the board.” June set up all the pieces on the patio table, showed Nicky some basic moves, and told him that the white king and queen were always at war with the black king and queen. He began hopscotching the pieces across the squares and making up all of his own moves. Ten minutes later he had abandoned the board, and now all the pieces were in various states of battle on the grass and atop the planters of alyssum and impatiens that bordered the back fence, and even in the rose garden.

June sent Eva back into the house to fetch a blanket and set it on the grass so that the two of them could sit on it while they watched Nicky.

When he began to tire of playing with the pieces that way, June had Eva bring out a dishpan of water and Nicky gave the chess pieces swimming lessons. When he tired of that, Eva hid them like Easter eggs in the yard while June made sure Nicky kept his eyes closed until he went looking for them. He then wanted to be the one to hide the pieces. And after that, he wanted to be the one to look for them again.

June lost track of time as they occupied themselves in the backyard. It was the best kind of afternoon, almost like summer, when the days are long and carefree. Again she found herself drifting mentally to that Other Place, the one where she’d married Elwood. It was easy to do, watching that little boy play among the rosebushes.

The daydreaming, however, meant June was not thinking about the fact that, being outside in the backyard, she likely wouldn’t hear Melanie when she returned to the house. Might not hear her knock on the front door and then perhaps open it herself when no one answered. Nor was she considering that Melanie might easily see from the kitchen window June, Eva, and Nicky happily playing in the backyard and that Melanie might turn from the window then and head up the stairs to talk to Elwood.

Nor that when Melanie reached his bedroom door, she might tap gently, say Elwood’s name, and, upon hearing no response, force open the door.