Open House by Elizabeth Berg

Author:Elizabeth Berg
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2000-09-18T10:00:00+00:00

16

LATE IN THE AFTERNOON ON THE DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING, I pull up in front of David’s building. I had a little trouble finding it, despite David’s clear directions. In the end, it was Travis who told me where to make the last turn. The tree-lined street is short and narrow, rather artistic-looking, I think jealously. There are stately black lamps, old gas types that have been converted to electric, and now, as I look at them, light up as though showing off. I cut the engine, turn to Travis. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a very nice time.”

He shrugs.

We open our car doors simultaneously, and I follow Travis up the walk, watch as he rings the doorbell. I wonder when this will be normal, this sharing of a boy, these deliveries of him back and forth as though he is a package to be signed for. I reach out to smooth his hair back, and he lets me. He is feeling bad too, then, despite his attempts at indifference. “You don’t have to stay,” I say suddenly. “We can just visit, and then I can bring you home.”

“No, it’s okay. I want to see Dad.” The buzzer sounds, and he pulls the heavy door open.

It’s an interesting building: old, but extremely well maintained. A lot of mellow oak in the entryway; pretty leaded glass windows, mosaic tile, a nice wooden elevator. We ride to David’s floor without speaking. Travis’s foot is tapping rapidly; my heart feels as though it is going at about the same rate.

When David opens the door, I nod rapidly, as though he has just said something I couldn’t agree with more. “Here he is,” I say, but Travis is gone, well into the apartment that he already knows.

“Come in.” David clears his throat, stands aside. He is wearing his dark blue V-neck sweater, my favorite, and a crisp cologne, also my favorite. For a moment I wonder if this is for me, then remember that of course it’s not.

I drop Travis’s duffel bag at my feet. “He’s all set for four days,” I say, and then hear a mournful reverberation in my brain. Four days! Four days! What will I do by myself? Lydia and Thomas are gone, off visiting Thomas’s niece for a week. King will surely spend Thanksgiving with his parents. I will be completely alone for the first time since . . . And then I remember: Rita will be here Saturday. That’s right, I’ll only have two days alone and then Rita will come.

“Come see my room,” Travis yells from somewhere down the hall, and I turn to David, asking permission, I suppose.

He nods, gestures for me to go ahead.

I pass through the living room, look quickly around. Goodlooking furniture, a white (!) sofa, some new artwork on the walls. I always wanted a white sofa and he always said no. Why does he have one now? What is the change that allowed for it? It’s a nice one, too, plump and inviting.

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