The Deer Effect by Susan Wingate

The Deer Effect - Chapter Twenty Two

TWENTY TWO

When Rod opened his door, a mix of hairspray, an extinguished cigarette and Tabu perfume (Mom's favorite) rushed to the entrance. He also smelled a nutty scent of toasted mocha from the coffee she had just purchased.

The sky had turned into a painting of puffy clouds with winks of blue behind them—eyes peeking through a keyhole at the earth.

Mom held in one of her hands a brown bag and in the other a photo album, which she pressed against her chest.

"I wasn't expecting you. Sorry." Rod looked down at his worn sweats. One side tipped off his hip where the hem of his wrinkled white T-shirt hung out. His mouth still tasted of sleep. "I would've put on something more, well. I would've put something else on."

"You look fine. I'm not here to judge your wardrobe, Rod." She pushed the photo album at him. "Brought some cookies too."

He gestured for her to come in. The brass knob under his palm had gone from chilled to warm in just those few seconds.

"Thanks, Mom." He couldn't remember the last time he called Belle that.

"Sure, sugar." She walked into the kitchen and Rod followed. "Got coffee?"

"Sure do. Cream?"

"Just some sugar if you've got it. This thing’s empty." Belle shook the paper cup and then tossed it into the garbage under the sink.

Mom the set the bag of cookies down onto the table and unwrapped her raincoat as Rod prepared her coffee.

"Don't think I'll need this much sugar, honey." Mom teased. I snickered out loud at her comment, which made Rod swat at his ear and Bobby run into the kitchen and bark.

"Sorry, Mom. Hush, Bobby. It's Belle. You know Belle."

But Bobby wouldn't stop barking. Instead, he spun a little in a circle, once, and then stood looking straight at me. Again! He yipped like he was watching animals on the TV, crazy barking.

"Bobby. Hush! Now!"

I put my finger to my lips and he stopped. "Shh. Sweet pea. Daddy's mad. Look at his growly face."

Bobby turned to Rod and jumped up on his legs and Rod bent over and petted him. "It's okay, son. It's okay."

"He's so cute."

"Yes. He is. But he's been acting... out. "

"That's so sad, Rod."

"Well. I get it. They were always together. He took rides with her in the car. They went on their daily walks, no matter what." He sat across from her. "She bathed him. She talked to him endlessly. I can only imagine what he thinks."

I giggled and Bobby turned to me and sat on his haunches, watching me.

"He thinks he sees his mommy! Don't you, Bobby!" I flipped backwards and then swung on nothing down to Bobby, like I was holding onto a monkey bar.

"See?" Rod continued.

Mom looked up looking at whatever Bobby was looking at, which was me. "Hi, mom!" She tipped her head and stuck a finger into her ear, shook it a little, took it out and looked at her fingernail. She flicked whatever she'd gotten out onto the floor. But Bobby was still engrossed in me.

We were connected.

"Well. He'll get used to her being gone."

I sat next to Bobby. He lay on the floor and I stroked his back.

Rod opened up the photo album and sipped his coffee. "Thanks for bringing this."

"Sure, honey."

He flipped a page and looked at each of the black-and-whites that had been taped to the black felt paper. The ripple-y edges looked like someone had cut them with pinking shears.

"That's when we went to Disneyland."

"That's Jay?"

"Yes. That's Jay. And me. Hannah was eight then."

"That's her." Rod's eyes widened.

"Yes. Can't you tell?"

"No. I mean. That's her. I saw this little girl last night."

"What are you talking about?" Mom frowned.

"I saw her last night." Rod looked at Mom. "I did. Belle. This is the girl."

Mom looked at the photo. She shook her head, not believing but then caught his eyes. He wasn't kidding. He was serious.

"That's ridiculous."

"I'm telling you. I saw her. Last night. I told you. On the phone?"

"I know what you're talking about. You don't have to condescend."

Rod swiped a hand over his head. "I didn't mean it like that." He looked back down at the photo. "I'm serious."

Mom stood. "I can't do this." She began to cry. "You cannot tell me this!" She grabbed her jacket. "It's mean, Rod. Just mean." She walked out of the room.

Rod jumped up and trotted after her. "Belle. I'm sorry."

Mom approached the door and turned. She'd gone from upset and crying to angry in seconds.

"You need to see someone. A professional. You need a psychiatrist!" She flung open the door and left.