days and days (and days) later

"You can't call me when I'm at home," he whispered into his cell phone.

It was Sunday evening. A family day. Sacrosanct, and she knew it. But that hadn't stopped Berry's phone from insistently buzzing all through supper until Berenice gave him a sharp look and asked why he wasn't answering it if it was so bloody urgent?

He wasn't answering it because he knew exactly who it was. And she could damn well wait until working hours if she needed to talk to him.

So he'd silenced the phone, but when he checked again after clearing away the dishes, he had eight missed calls. He waited until Berenice took the girls upstairs for bed, then slipped outside into the damp, Sunday evening air and pressed "Al (Managing Director)" in his call log.

He'd considered this a clever little bit of insurance, listing her number that way. If Berenice ever checked, he could always say it was a work emergency. Why else would "Al" the Managing Director be calling him? Brilliant.

"I'm sorry, Bertrand," she started. "You know how lonely I get on weekends."

"Most people would sign up for a class or find some way to make friends in a new city," he replied tetchily, aware that he could only be so unpleasant to her before she would make things difficult.

Allegra sighed. "I've never been very good at making friends. Women can be so facile in their interests. Shopping, wine, rom-coms," she intoned with bone-weary cynicism.

He remained stonily silent, unsure what she expected of him and unwilling in any case to give it.

"Anyhow, listen, I apologize for calling you on a Sunday. I know, I know. Family time. I should have waited, but I have the most exciting news!" Allegra's voice tripped upward, and he could imagine her twisting her hair around her finger like a teenage girl.

"What's your news?" he stage whispered, trying to make the point that he was continuing this call under duress and putting himself at risk every moment she insisted on keeping it going.

"You won't believe it. I found the most gorgeous puppy today. I couldn't help myself. He's just the sweetest thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"A puppy?" Berry found that a bit rich. The woman was almost never at home. How did she think she was going to take care of a puppy?

He was pacing around the edge of the nearest gigantic hole in the yard, wanting to get back inside before someone noticed him out here.

Upstairs, the back bedroom's light went out. The girls had been put to bed, which meant Berenice would be on her way back down.

"Listen," he said with urgency. "I have to go now. My wife --"

Allegra cut him off.

"It's for you! The puppy. I remember you said your" -- he could hear the slight grimace as she continued -- "children wanted one. I thought... this would be the loveliest, loveliest gift for them. And you could bring him into the office because, you know, I would love to see him too. And they do say it's the thing to have dogs in the office nowadays, don't they?"

Berry interrupted her, "Allegra, I cannot bring a dog home."

"Why not? Oh, you can! Just wait until you meet him, you'll fall in love. He's such a sweetie."

"But Berenice -- my wife, I mean -- she would not want a dog. No. Especially if it isn't her idea."

He was now crouching behind the garbage bins to make sure Berenice didn't come back down to the kitchen and see him outside on the phone.

"I think that sounds a little cold-hearted, Bertrand. What kind of woman wouldn't welcome a gorgeous little puppy that her children wanted so much?"

"I wouldn't say they really--"

"I'll bring him to the office in the morning. You'll see. Must dash!"

And with that, Allegra was gone. Berry shoved his phone angrily into his pocket and emerged from behind the bins. He stalked past the massive hole (value: $73,760 so far if you counted the initial payments to the Russians) and let himself back in through the kitchen door.

"What were you doing out there?" asked Berenice, who was standing at the kettle, making Jim his evening pot of tea.

"Out where?" asked Berry stupidly.

She looked at him silently. One could almost see the suspicion flit across her mind and be dismissed.

Instead, she smiled.

"Out where. Good one."

Berry breathed a sigh of relief. A joke. But still, better to have a story.

"Haha. I was checking the bins. Thought I heard raccoons clattering around back there."

"Tabernac," she muttered and peered out into the dark yard. "Papa will be angry if they shit in his holes again."

Berry wasn't sure what to reply to that, and so didn't.

"Here," said Berenice, putting a knitted cozy on the teapot and placing it on a tray with Jim's favourite cup.

"Take this down to your dad. I'm going to do some research on raccoon deterrents."

***

"Hi son," said James, who was crouched beside his record player, flicking through a crate of LPs which he'd marked "A-C."

"Brought your tea down."

"That's great, thanks. Just stick it there on the coffee table, please."

The table was cluttered with books and, inexplicably, an old-fashioned dictaphone. Berry pushed it all aside with the tray and set the tea down. Instead of turning to go back upstairs, he sat down on the couch and looked around.

Berenice had done a nice job down here. Cozy, warm furnishings. You could hardly believe this used to be a damp, filthy basement. She really had an eye, he thought appreciatively.

"What are you looking for in there, Dad?"

"Bowie. The 1969 RCA version."

"Oh," replied Berry. "What is this project you've been working away on down here anyway?"

Jim paused. "Nothing important. Just keeping myself busy."

Berry had a sense that there was more to it, but frankly, he didn't find his father's music collection all that interesting, so didn't pursue it.

"Dad, I was wondering... something about you and Mum. Is it okay?"

James' fingers paused over the albums. He pulled one out of the crate and slid the paper-encased record out of its cardboard cover.

"Sure," he said, sounding just a touch like he didn't mean it.

Berry decided to press on anyway.

"Were you and Mum happy?"

The question hovered mid-air like a big silver zeppelin. Too big to pretend it wasn't there.

"I think we were. But maybe we didn't appreciate it at the time," Jim replied finally.

Berry nodded and absorbed that.

"Did you ever cheat on her?"

Jim held the record carefully, palms against the edges, and slipped it over the silver center spindle. He pressed the start button and gently dropped the needle. David Bowie's Space Oddity filled the space that had opened up with Berry's question.

This is Major Tom to ground control.
I'm stepping through the door...

Jim sat down again and looked at his knees. A distant memory. A single night. A lapse. He'd never spoken of it.

"Once. A mistake."

Planet Earth is blue
And there's nothing I can do.

Berry hadn't replied, so Jim continued.

"I think the details of my mistake are less important than why you may be asking."

Berry shrugged. Why was he asking? What did he hope to accomplish by letting his father in on his own shameful secrets?

"I just wanted to know..." he started. "If you can make a mistake, but still be a good man."

Tell my wife I love her very much
She knows

"Of course you can," said Jim. "So long as you fix it."

Father and son looked at each other.

"Did you love her? Mum, I mean."

Jim nodded quickly. "So much."

"Did she love you?"

"I believe she did. Although when she left me like that, left us, I thought otherwise. Isn't that stupid? Like she'd died on purpose to punish me. But of course, death like that isn't on purpose. So I got over that feeling eventually and realized she probably hated to go. I think -- if she knew what was happening -- that she hated to think she'd never see us again. Especially you. But also me. Whether I completely deserved her or not."

Berry was surprised to find his eyes swimming with childish tears. He blinked them away and brushed imaginary crumbs from his thighs. He stood up.

"Okay, good night, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ground Control to Major Tom
You're off your course
Direction's wrong
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?