Free Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein Page A

weekend, an effort to establish a plot. They were already sowing the seeds of their story, spinning their lies, foretelling a future they hoped would come true.

Chapter Twenty-One
    S oon, Labor Day weekend came, and after that, Zoë was enrolled in school. “Real school,” as she called it. Kindergarten. And she was so excited to go. She picked out her clothes the night before her first day, bell-bottom jeans and sneakers and a bright yellow blouse. She had her backpack, her lunch box, her pencil case, her notebook. With great ceremony, Denny and I walked with her a block from our house to the corner of Martin Luther King Jr. Way, and we waited for the bus that would take her to her new elementary school. We waited with a few other kids and parents from the neighborhood.
    When the bus came over the hill, we were all so excited.
    â€œKiss me now,” she said to Denny.
    â€œNow?” he replied.
    â€œNot when the bus is here. I don’t want Jessie to see.” Jessie was her best friend from preschool, who was going to be in the same kindergarten class. Denny obliged and kissed her before the bus had stopped.
    â€œAfter school, you go to Extended Day,” he said. “Like we practiced yesterday at orientation. Remember?”
    â€œ Daddy! ” she scolded.
    Denny said, “I’ll pick you up after Extended Day. You wait in the classroom, and I’ll come and get you.”
    â€œDaddy!” She made a stern face at him, and for a second I could have sworn she was Eve. The flashing eyes. The flared nostrils. The head cocked, ready for battle. She quickly turned and climbed onto the bus. Then, as she walked down the aisle, she turned and waved at us both before she took her seat next to her friend.
    The bus pulled away and headed for school. “Your first?” another father asked Denny.
    â€œYeah,” Denny replied. “My only. You?”
    â€œMy third,” the man said. “But there’s nothing like your first. They grow up so fast.”
    â€œThat they do,” Denny said with a smile; we turned and walked home.

Chapter Twenty-Two
    I t was an evening on which Denny took me along to the hospital to visit Eve, though I didn’t get to go inside. After the visit, Zoë and I waited in the car while Maxwell and Trish joined Denny to talk on the pavement. Zoë was immersed in a book of mazes, something she loved to do; I listened carefully to the conversation. Everything they said made sense, but none of it added up properly in my mind. Maxwell and Trish did all of the talking.
    â€œOf course, there has to be a nurse on duty, around the clock.”
    â€œThey work in shifts—”
    â€œThey work in shifts, but still, the one on duty takes breaks.”
    â€œSo someone needs to be there to help.”
    â€œAnd since we’re always around . . .”
    â€œWe have nowhere to go—”
    â€œAnd you have to work.”
    â€œSo it’s best.”
    â€œYes, it’s best.”
    Denny nodded without conviction. He got into the car, and we drove off. “When’s Mommy coming home?” Zoë asked.
    â€œSoon,” Denny said. We were crossing the floating bridge, the one Zoë used to call the “High 90,” when she was younger. “Mommy’s going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a while,” Denny said. “Until she feels better. Is that okay with you?”
    â€œI guess,” Zoë said. “Why?”
    â€œIt’ll be easier for—” He broke off. “It’ll be easier.”
    A few days later, a Saturday, Zoë, Denny, and I went to Maxwell and Trish’s house. A bed had been set up in the living room. A large hospital bed that moved up and down and tilted and did all sorts of things by touching a remote control. It had a broad footboard from which hung a clipboard. There was also a nurse, a crinkly older woman who had a voice that sounded like she was