Free The Other Side of the World by Jay Neugeboren Page A

asked.
    â€œWho knows?” Trish said. “Who cares really?”
    â€œDid you bring us any presents?” Gabe asked.
    â€œOh Gabe!” Trish scolded, but softly. “I’ve asked you not to…”
    â€œIt’s okay,” Seana said. “Yes, we brought gifts for you and for your sister.”
    â€œPerhaps we can accept the gifts now and you can see the ashes later,” Gabe said.

    â€œSounds like a plan,” Seana said.
    â€œBut before we get too far into gift-giving,” Trish said, “how about a loving hug for the grieving ex-wife?”
    â€œOf course,” I said. “Sorry I didn’t…”
    I moved toward Trish, but Seana was there first, and when she embraced Trish, Trish collapsed as if a strut inside her had snapped.
    â€œI’m sorry too,” Trish said, and she started crying, her body convulsing in small spasms. “In fact, I’m very sorry. I’m damned sorry. I’m one sorry, sorry girl. Sorry… sorry…”
    Seana pulled Trish closer to her, even while Anna, thumb in mouth, was pillowed between them.
    After a while, Trish caught her breath and stepped away. “Now it’s your turn, Charlie,” she said, and she came to me and rested her head against my chest.
    â€œYou are plump,” I said. “Plump and warm.”
    â€œYou used to say you preferred women who were ample.”
    â€œStill true.”
    â€œI do well on amplitude tests,” she said.
    â€œNo one better,” I said, and a moment later: “And hey—I am sorry about Nick.”
    â€œHe never saw fatherhood as a vocation, I suppose,” she said. “I mean, he was a real bastard—mean as shit when he was wasted—and a lousy father even when he tried in his half-assed way. Still, he was all the father Gabe had.”
    â€œAnd Anna? I mean, what about Anna’s father, if I can ask?”
    â€œSeveral of the usual small-town suspects,” Trish answered. She wiped at her nose. “I cooked supper for us. You’re in for a treat.”
    â€œThat’s correct,” Gabe said. “My mother and I made several of our best recipes—baked stuffed haddock, string beans with mushrooms and onions, candied yams, and another potato dish, I forget its name.”
    â€œ Dauphinoise ,” Trish said.

    â€œThat’s correct,” Gabe said. “And for dessert, we’re having a blueberry crumble, which you can have with or without ice cream.”
    â€œI fussed,” Trish said proudly. “I like to fuss. I was happy fussing—getting ready for your visit—and Gabe was a big help.”
    â€œThat’s correct,” Gabe said. “My mother calls me her sous-chef .”
    â€œAnd sometimes he’s my Sioux chief ,” Trish said.
    â€œHa ha,” Gabe said, his voice flat. “That’s very funny. So now can we have our gifts?”
    â€œProbably,” Seana said.
    â€œ Probably? ” Gabe cocked his head to the side. “You’re teasing me, right?”
    â€œI’m teasing you,” Seana said.
    Gabe smiled for the first time. “I like it when people tease me,” he said, “although they’re not always successful at it the way you just were.”
    Seana took a stuffed animal from the canvas bag she was carrying—a brightly colored parrot into which you could slide your hand to make it into a puppet—and handed it to Anna, and then she gave Gabe the model airplane kit we’d bought for him: a Glenn Martin Bomber.
    â€œThank you,” he said. “My grandfather makes excellent model ships, but I prefer airplanes, especially those from World War One. How did you know?”
    â€œLucky guess,” Seana said. “And I consulted with Charlie here. He’s an expert at gift-giving.”
    Gabe eyed me. “I know!” he exclaimed. “My mother told you about my hobby, and she told you I’d been