“What—Where did they go?” I managed to stammer.
“Oh,” she said. “Your brother picked them up. Brian. He’s going to take them for Chinese food.”
What a wonderful world of new experiences I was having with being human. Right now, for example, I was struck speechless with astonishment. I felt wave after wave of thoughts and feelings wash over me: things like anger, amazement, and suspicion, ideas like wondering what Brian was really up to, why Rita would ever go along with it, and what Cody and Astor would do when they remembered that they didn’t like Chinese food. But no matter how copious and specific my thoughts were, nothing at all came out of my mouth, except, “Uhk,” and as I struggled for coherent sounds, Rita said, “Oh. I have to go. Lily Anne is crying. Bye.” And she hung up.
I’m sure it was only a few seconds that I stood there listening to the sound of absolutely nothing, but it seemed like a very long time. Eventually I became aware that my mouth was dry, since it was hanging open, and my hand was sweaty from where I had clamped the cell phone into my fist. I closed my mouth, put the phone away, and headed for home.
Rush hour was in full swing as I headed south from work, and oddly enough, all the way home I saw no acts of random violence, no violent swerving or fist waving, no shots fired. The traffic inched along as slowly as ever, but nobody really seemed to mind. I wondered if I should have read my horoscope—perhaps that would explain what was going on. It could well be that somewhere in Miami really knowledgeable people—druids, perhaps—were nodding their heads and murmuring, “Ahhh, Jupiter is in a retrograde moon of Saturn,” and pouring another cup of herb tea while they lounged around in Birkenstocks. Or maybe it was a group of the vampires Debs was chasing—was it called a flock? Perhaps if enough of them sharpened their teeth a new age of harmony would dawn for us all. Or at least for Dr. Lonoff, the dentist.
I spent a quiet evening at home watching TV and holding Lily Anne whenever I could. She did a lot of sleeping, but it worked for her just as well if I was holding her at the time, so I did. It seemed to me to indicate a remarkable degree of trust on her part. On the one hand, I hoped she would grow out of that, since it was not terribly wise to trust others so much. But on the other tiny, perfect hand, it filled me with a sense of wonder and a resolve to protect her from all the other beasts of the night.
I found myself sniffing Lily Anne’s head frequently—certifiably odd behavior, I know, but, from what I could gather, completely in keeping with my new human persona. The smell was remarkable, unlike anything else I had ever smelled. It was an odor that was almost nothing at all, and it did not really fit into any category like “sweet” or “musty,” although it contained elements of both—and more, and neither. But I sniffed and was unable to say what the smell was, and then I sniffed again just because I wanted to, and then suddenly a new odor welled up from the region of the diaper, one that was quite easy to identify.
Changing a diaper is really not as bad as it sounds, and I didn’t mind it at all. I am not suggesting that I would embrace it as a career choice, but at least in the case of Lily Anne’s diaper it was something that did not actually cause me any suffering—in some ways it was even enjoyable, since I was doing a very specific and necessary service for her. I got further pleasure from seeing Rita swoop in like a dive-bomber, probably to make sure I didn’t accidentally boil the baby, and then pause and just watch when she saw my quiet competence, and I felt a warm glow of satisfaction when I finished and she took the baby off the changing table, saying only, “Thank you, Dexter.”
While Rita fed Lily Anne, I returned to the TV and watched a hockey game for a few minutes. It was disappointing; in the first place, the Panthers were already down by three goals, and in the second place, there were no fights. I had originally been attracted to the game because of the honest and laudable bloodlust the players showed. Now, however, it occurred to me that I really ought to frown on that sort of thing. The New Me, Diaper Daddy Dexter, was strongly opposed to violence and could not possibly approve of a sport like hockey. Perhaps I could switch to bowling. It seemed awfully boring, but there was no blood, and it was certainly more exciting than golf.
Before I could reach any decision, Rita came back with Lily Anne. “Would you like to burp her, Dexter?” she said with a Madonna-like smile—the Madonna in the paintings, not the one with the fancy bra.
“I would like nothing better,” I said, and weirdly enough, I meant it. I placed a small towel over my shoulder and held the baby facedown on it. And once again, for some reason it was not at all awful, even when Lily Anne made her delicate barfing noises and small bubbles of milk came out and onto the towel. I found myself murmuring quiet congratulations to her with each little blarp she made, until finally she drifted back into sleep and I switched her around to the front position, holding her to my chest and gently moving her from side to side in a rock-a-bye motion.
I was in this position when Brian brought Cody and Astor home at around nine o’clock. Technically, this was pushing the envelope a bit, since nine o’clock was bedtime and now the kids would be at least fifteen minutes late climbing into their beds. But Rita didn’t seem to mind, and it would have been churlish of me to object, since everyone had so clearly had a very good time. Even Cody was almost smiling, and I made a note to find out what conceivable Chinese restaurant Brian might have taken them to in order to get that kind of reaction.
I was at a bit of a disadvantage, since I was holding Lily Anne, but as Rita hustled the two older kids off to pajamas and teeth brushing I stood up for a friendly word with my brother. “Well,” I said as he stood by the door with an air of quiet satisfaction, “they look like they had a good time.”
“Oh, they did,” he said with his dreadful fake smile. “Remarkable children, both of them.”
“Did they eat the spring rolls?” I asked, and Brian looked extremely blank for a moment.
“The spring—Oh yes, they devoured everything I put in front of them,” he said, and there was such an ominous happiness in the way he said it that I was absolutely certain we were not talking about food.
“Brian,” I said, but I got no further as Rita came whirling out.
“Oh, Brian,” she said, snatching Lily Anne from my arms. “I don’t know what on earth you did, but the children had a wonderful time. I’ve never seen them like this.”
“It was entirely my pleasure,” he said, and it made small icicles blossom along my spine.
“Won’t you sit for a few minutes?” Rita said. “I could make some coffee, or a glass of wine …?”
“Oh, no,” he said happily. “Thank you very much, dear lady, but I really must be going. Believe it or not, I have an appointment this evening.”
“Oh!” Rita said with a guilty blush. “I hope you didn’t—I mean, with the children, and you might have—You shouldn’t—”
“Not at all,” Brian said, as if it had all made sense. “I have plenty of time. But I must take my fond farewells now.”
“Well,” Rita said, “if you’re sure that—And I really can’t thank you enough because it’s—”
“Mom!” Astor called from down the hall.
“Oh, dear,” Rita said. “Excuse me, but—thank you so much, Brian.” And she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
“Entirely my pleasure,” Brian said again, and Rita smiled and hurried away to Astor and Cody.
Brian and I looked at each other for a moment, and while there was a great deal I wanted to say to him, I did not really know what it was specifically enough to say it. “Brian,” I said again, but it stopped there, and he smiled that terrible fake, knowing smile.
“I know,” he said. “But I really do have an appointment.” He turned and opened the front door, and then glanced back at me. “They truly are remarkable children,” he said. “Good night, brother.”
And he was out the door and gone into the night, leaving me with no more than the afterglow of his dreadful smile and a very uncomfortable sense that something very wrong was going on.