One Small Thing Read Online Free PDF Page B

me.”
     
    “How about a soda, Isabel,” Dan said, leading her into the family room. “Or why don’t we go over and say hi to Valerie and Luis. You haven’t seen Tomás in a while, have you?”
     
    As he pulled her along, he turned back, and Avery sighed and shook her head. He and Isabel walked through the house, into the garage, and out into the bright late morning light of the Fourth of July, her arm through his. Isabel was irritating, that was for sure. She’d lived alone for too long, coming over toe their house with a flurry of words she must have saved up at night, the desperate sentences coming out at once. When they went to the movies, she sat by Dan and asked, “Is that actress someone I should know? What film was she in before?” Before she read a novel, she made Avery tell her the end of the story, not wanting, she said, “Anything too ugly.”
     
    But he squeezed her arm, knowing that what he would like more than anything, was to be able to squeeze his own mother in this way, walk her over to Luis and Valerie’s, sit her down at one of the party tables that was now festooned with red, white, and blue crepe streamers. But when his mother Marian and his father Bill drove down to the Bay Area, it was first to see Dan’s brother Jared. And then, if he was lucky, he’d get a phone call. “We’re just headed home, but we wanted to say hi. How’s Avery?”
     
    Because Jared was coming to the cul-de-sac this year to eat and watch fireworks, Dan had hoped that his parents would come, too, sit with him and enjoy the life he’d made for himself and Avery. But they’d called at the last minute, saying, “Oh, Dan, it’s too hot to drive. We’ll stay here and watch the fireworks with the Davidsons.”
     
    “You do have air-conditioning in the Oldsmobile, don’t you?” Dan had asked.
     
    “Yes, of course. I meant at your house,” his mother said. He could hear her tap something—a pen, a pencil, her glasses—on the counter.
     
    “Mom, we have the pool. And air conditioning. It won’t be bad. And you can see Jared.” He dangled the good son carrot.
     
    “Not this year. Say hi to Avery.” His mom hung up, and Dan had put down the phone, wondering how long it would take before they trusted him again.
     
    “Oh my,” said Isabel. “This is so charming. How festive! What a wonderful day. You two are so lucky to live here. You can’t pay for this kind of neighborhood bonding!”
     
    Dan reached for Isabel’s hand, and she turned to him, surprised, but let her small, soft, wrinkled hand stay in his. Is this how his mother’s felt? If he grabbed Marian’s hand, would she snatch it away?
     
    Together, Isabel’s Keds tap, tapping on the sidewalk, his steps slow and patient, they walked to the Delgado’s. Valerie pulled open the door, Tomás on her shoulder.
     
    “Oh, Isabel. I am so glad to see you. Could you hold Tomás? Luis is having some kind of salsa incident in the kitchen. He and his mother are on the floor scrubbing.”
     
    Isabel carefully took the sleeping Tomás from Valerie, who then rushed back inside. Dan walked behind Isabel as they moved into the cool air of the house, and he swallowed. Soon, she would be carrying her own grandchild. His and Avery’s. Soon, he might be able to forget the past.
     
     
     
    
     
     
     
    “Do you remember when we accidentally exploded the Davidson’s mailbox?” Jared asked, leaning back in his chair, watching the kids light Flame Tower after Flame Tower, the air hanging thick with sulfur and smoke.
     
    “An accident?” Dan said, and then looked behind him. Avery—with Tomás in her lap—was sitting next to Valerie, Valerie’s sister Yvette, and Loren. “I hardly think we can call that accidental.”
     
    Jared sipped his beer. “You’re right. But how much of it exploded was an accident.”
     
    Dan nodded, picturing the steel grimace of the torn mailbox, his parents’ disappointed faces. He’d only been ten then, Jared