Spinning by Michael Baron Read Free Book Online Page A

said hello to him this morning for the first time in two years. I nodded to him now and he did the same. Things were different with Spring around. When the elevator opened, a few women stepped out. I could detect the scent of Red Door on my left and Boucheron on my right. I could identify at least 20 different perfumes from the inexpensive to the obscene and I was always adding new
ones to my memory banks. Diane wore Boucheron, proving that she had considerably better taste in perfume than she did in luggage. I pressed the button for my floor, the scent making me just a little more anxious to get home.
    Do family men notice perfume? I guessed that they did. Perfume and legs and cleavage. How could you ever be so caught up in the mundane that you didn’t notice these things?
    When I walked off the elevator and the doors began to close, I poked my hand inside and hit all the buttons. I laughed ridiculously at my little stunt and began to wonder if I’d drunk more wine than I thought I did.

    It was after 10:00 and Diane had already put Spring to bed.
    “Good meeting?” she said, as we sat in the living room.
    “Yeah, really good, I think. We’ll see if and when we start talking about money.”
    She smiled, but didn’t say anything. I settled back on the couch.
    “Spring seems like a good kid,” I said.
    “She is a good kid. And she likes you.”
    I laughed. “From what I can see, Spring likes everyone.”
    “She doesn’t. Sometimes, she only quacks. I was really worried about bringing her to New York. She doesn’t adjust well to change, but I promised her this would be our home from now on. We’d find a place and a nice daycare and this would be it. But she doesn’t believe me yet.
The trip to the park helped a little, I think. I think it made her feel good to do something we always did in Chicago.”
    Diane looked content, knowing that she had gone this far toward finding a home for her daughter. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t have felt comfortable until I had a job or a place to crash.
    “Sometimes, she just goes into her own world. When it’s quiet at night, I can hear her talking. I talk to myself, too, of course, but there’s something about the way she does it that seems different. It’s like she’s having a real conversation. So much of what she does reminds me of when I was little, but in some ways, we’re so different. When I was her age, I wanted a magic wand for Christmas. Do you know what she told me she wanted for Christmas the other day? For me to be happy. I don’t even know if she understands what being happy means.”
    Which puts her in a select group that includes just about the entire rest of the world.
    Diane chuckled softly. “Ever since she realized most kids have two parents, she’s created a place in the dark where she goes to pass the time. I’ve heard her cry when she’s doing this sometimes, Dylan. She’s talked about me to her grandmother and cried. My parents died before she was born. She made up a grandmother.
    “I know all kids do it. But I worry that she’s keeping all kinds of things to herself… that she isn’t dealing with the world because too much is missing from her life.”
    “This is the same girl who made friends with Mr. Barnes, the taxi driver, and the guy who pushes the hot dog cart at the park?’
    “That’s how I know she likes you. She feels comfortable around you, so she loosens up and lets others in.”
    “She’s quacked a few times…”

    “She doesn’t understand things sometimes. That’s her way of filling an awkward empty silence.”
    “Interesting strategy. Maybe we should all quack a little more and talk a little less.”
    For a reason that wasn’t entirely clear to me, Diane’s eyes misted over and she turned away. Maybe I should have quacked. The whole thing that Diane was talking about the endless confusion that seemed to go along with being a parent was difficult for me to associate with. At the park, Spring sat next to