Skin Deep

18

DERRY, NEW HAMPSHIRE

FALL 1970

He continued sleeping with Lila for weeks while his dad was away. But that came to an abrupt end when Kirk returned unexpectedly one night and found them together in his bed.

Kirk spent the night in the guest room, waiting until the next morning to approach her. They were in the kitchen, Lila still in her bathrobe, his father in a golfing outfit ready for tee time with friends at nine. Even though the TV was on, he heard their exchange from the family room, where he was drawing in his sketch pad.

“He just turned ten, for Christ sake.”

“He wasn’t feeling well. And please stop taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

“And stop deflecting my point. Where the hell are your boundaries?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that he’s too old to be sleeping with you.”

“He couldn’t sleep because of his headaches. I’m just giving him a little TLC.”

“We have medication for the headaches.”

“And sometimes it doesn’t work.”

“Well, double the dosage. And if that doesn’t work we can call the doctor for something stronger. In the meantime, he sleeps where he belongs, in his own bed in his own room.”

“Yes, your highness. Whatever you say, your highness.”

“Lila, I don’t like your sarcasm.”

“And I don’t like your telling me what to do all the time.”

“Only because this TLC crap has more to do with you than him.”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard what I said. Letting him sleep with you is unhealthy. It could warp him.”

“Warp him? What, a little tender loving care? Maybe you should try it sometime. Life would be a lot better around here if you did.”

“Here we go again. Let me put it to you straight. He sleeps in his own bed. Period.”

He could tell that she was too wounded to respond.

“He’s also my kid.”

“Yeah, on paper,” she snapped.

“Go to hell, Lila.”

“No, you go to hell. You’re never around, and when you are, you’re too tired or too damn busy to spend any time with him.”

“Because my schedule is beyond my control.”

“You have weekends. You have days off, and I don’t see you going out and doing things with him, acting like a normal father.”

“Who do you think gave him those model airplanes and games, huh?”

“You do that to keep him out of your hair so you can go golfing or fishing with your flyboy buddies.”

“That’s a fucking lie.”

“It’s not a lie, and keep your filthy words to yourself. He’s right in the other room.”

There was more muffled exchange, then he heard Lila say, “Your son doesn’t even know you. You’re like a stranger to him. I’m the one bringing him up. Me.”

“More bullshit. I do things with him all the time.”

“Is that right? Then when was the last time you played catch with him, huh? Or read him a story? Or took him to a movie? Or to the beach? Or drove him to camp?”

“And who’s the one who puts the beans on the table?”

“I’m trying to land something, and you know it.”

“If you want to land something you might consider a real job.”

“Acting is a real job.”

“Only if you have talent.”

“I have talent.”

“Yeah, for taking your clothes off. Just ask your daddy.”

Lila made a sharp cry of outrage. “You bastard. My daddy was a pig of a man.”

She made another muffled outburst, then he heard Kirk leave, the door slamming behind him.

From the large armchair in the family room he had heard the whole exchange. He turned off the television and went into the kitchen. Lila was folded into a chair, crying. He grabbed a handful of napkins and went to her. When she gained control she put her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“That’s okay.” He pulled her head to his chest the way she did when he got his headaches. But he didn’t have soft pillowy breasts she could bury her face in.

“You came to comfort me.”

He didn’t know how to respond so he nodded.

“You’re so considerate.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him on the mouth. “Did he scare you?”

He nodded. He had heard them fight before, but it was through the walls of his room—muted exchanges. He had not witnessed Lila in tears nor had he heard her swear before. She was very religious and had taught him that swearing was a sin.

“I’m sorry. Your daddy can be so mean at times. But you’re a sweetie.”

“When’s he coming back?”

“This afternoon.”

“I don’t want him to come back.”

She nodded. “Me neither.” He put his arms around her neck. “Do you have a headache?”

“No.”

“Good. Do you still want to go to Donna Corso’s party?” The girl up the street was having a tenth birthday party that day.

“No. I want to stay with you.”

She smiled. “Me, too. Give me a big squeeze. Sometimes Mom needs some TLC, too.”

He did, then showed her the pad. “This is for you.”

Lila’s mouth dropped open. “That’s me.”

“Uh-huh.” He had drawn her picture from a photograph.

“That’s wonderful. Maybe you’ll be an artist when you grow up.”

The other pages had cartoon characters he had done from television. After a few moments he asked, “Does it mean that I can’t sleep in your bed anymore?”

“Maybe it’s best you slept in your own bed for now, okay? We don’t want to make him mad again.”

“Okay.”

“But maybe you can come in on special occasions.”

“Okay.”

At the time he did not exactly know what “special occasions” were. But he didn’t bother to ask, and just watched the flicker of promise dance in her eyes. But there would come a time when she would show him. And it had nothing to do with headaches.