Chapter 84: Weekend Plans
After the Friday night segment ended and the television went to commercial, Mary caught George before he made it fully to the kitchen.
"Hold on," she said, in the specific tone she used when she had something to say that was going to require his attention.
George stopped.
"Sheldon's been off the last two days," Mary said, lowering her voice with the particular care of someone who didn't want the subject of the conversation to hear it from another room. "Something's bothering him. He's been quieter than usual and he hasn't asked me a single question about anything since Wednesday."
George looked toward the hallway. "Sheldon not asking questions is a good thing."
"George."
"I'm serious — that boy asks me seventeen questions about the internal combustion engine before I've had my first cup of coffee. Quiet is restful."
"Something happened at school," Mary said. "I don't know what, but something shifted. I'd like you to find out."
George looked at her with the expression of a man doing honest math about his weekend.
He had one beer left in his Friday allocation. He had a game film he wanted to review. He had a general plan for Saturday that involved the minimum number of obligations compatible with being a present father.
"I'll talk to him," he said.
Mary nodded. Then: "Also, I'm at the church Saturday and probably part of Sunday. The coordinator position has a lot of setup work this weekend. Which means—"
"I've got the kids," George said.
"Sheldon specifically. You know his routine. No cold food, he needs at least six hours of—"
"Mary, I've been his father for nine years."
"I know. I'm reminding you because when I'm not here it tends to be Connie who handles the details and I don't want—"
"Mom has her own life," George said. "I'm not going to hand my kid to your mother on a Saturday."
Mary looked at him with the specific expression that meant: I was going to say exactly that and I'm glad you got there yourself.
"Good," she said. "Thank you."
She went back to the kitchen.
George looked at the hallway. Then at his beer on the side table. Then at the hallway again.
He found Sheldon at the dinner table still, notebook open, working through something that involved a lot of erasing.
George sat down across from him.
"Hey," he said.
Sheldon looked up.
"You okay?" George said. Direct, because with Sheldon the approach that worked was usually the direct one.
Sheldon considered the question with the genuine seriousness he gave most things. "Physically, yes," he said. "I'm working through some calculus that Ms. Ingram covered this week. And I'm thinking about something that happened at school that I haven't fully categorized yet."
"What kind of something?"
Sheldon was quiet for a moment — the working-through-it quiet rather than the reluctant-to-share quiet.
"A friend did something that was partly genuine and partly strategic," he said. "And I'm not sure how to feel about both of those things being true simultaneously."
George looked at him.
He was nine years old and talking about the specific moral complexity of people who had mixed motives. George had been trying to work that one out himself for about forty years.
"That happens a lot," George said. "People aren't usually one thing or the other. They're usually both."
"That's inconvenient," Sheldon said.
"Yeah," George said. "It is."
Sheldon looked at his notebook. "How do you decide whether the genuine part is enough?"
George thought about this honestly. "I think you figure out whether the genuine part is the real part," he said. "Whether the strategy was the window dressing or the foundation." He paused. "What does your gut tell you?"
Sheldon looked at him with the expression of someone who was skeptical of the concept of gut feelings as an analytical tool.
"My instinct," George said.
"My instinct suggests the genuine part was foundational," Sheldon said carefully. "The strategic element was additional."
"Then that's probably what it is," George said.
Sheldon considered this. "That's not a very rigorous framework."
"No," George agreed. "But it's the one that works most of the time." He picked up his beer. "You have plans this weekend?"
"Libby mentioned a technology expo in Houston on Saturday," Sheldon said, and his face did the specific thing it did when he'd been trying to seem less interested in something than he actually was. "I hadn't decided whether to pursue it."
George looked at him.
"Houston," he said.
"The expo has a geology and earth sciences exhibit that's been covered in three academic journals," Sheldon said. "And a robotics section that Tam expressed significant interest in."
George set down his beer and leaned back in his chair.
He'd been trying to think of a Saturday activity that would satisfy his obligation to be an engaged father while also not being entirely miserable, and he'd arrived at nothing better than fishing, which Sheldon despised and which George was honest enough to admit he'd suggested primarily for himself.
"What if we all went?" George said.
Sheldon looked at him.
"Family trip," George said. "Houston's worth seeing. I haven't been since the spring." He warmed to the idea in real time — it had the specific appeal of a plan that solved multiple problems simultaneously. "You get your expo, Georgie and I get out of Deford for a day, and I'm not sitting at home pretending to supervise anyone."
"What about Missy?" Sheldon said.
"Missy's coming."
"Missy finds technology expos boring."
"Missy finds everything boring until she's in it," George said. "She'll be fine."
The idea arrived at the dinner table like a small weather system.
George announced it between the main course and the bread — Houston, Saturday, the tech expo, full family outing — and the reactions arrived in the order they usually arrived in the Cooper household, which was loudest first.
Georgie looked up from his chicken. "Houston?" The word had the specific brightness of someone for whom a city of that size represented a genuine change of scenery. "Yeah, I'm in. Is the Galleria open on Saturdays?"
"We're going for Sheldon's expo," George said.
"We can do both," Georgie said, with the practical optimism of someone who had learned to find his own content inside other people's agendas.
Missy set down her spoon. She looked at Mike, who was at his end of the table with the quiet attention he brought to family conversations that were developing around him.
"Mike, are you going?" she said.
"I hadn't decided yet," Mike said.
This was technically true. He'd been weighing the weekend — Aaron's training offer for Sunday, the general low-activity Saturday he'd been considering, the fact that Karen was likely occupied with whatever Regina had organized, Lina's farm work.
Missy reached over and grabbed his arm with both hands and looked at him with the full, uncomplicated directness of a nine-year-old making an argument through expression alone.
Mike looked at her.
"I'll think about it," he said.
"That means yes," Missy announced to the table.
"It means I'll think about it," Mike said.
"It means yes," Missy repeated, with complete confidence, and picked her spoon back up.
Connie, who had been watching the conversation from her end of the table with the comfortable, entertained attention of someone watching a show she liked, set down her Lone Star.
"Here's a thought," she said. "The boys go to Houston together — George, Georgie, Sheldon, Mike. The expo, whatever else comes up." She looked at Missy. "You and I have our own day."
Missy looked at her.
"Amusement park," Connie said. "Then lunch somewhere you pick. Then—" She paused for timing. "The new nail place on Fifth Street."
Missy's expression moved in the direction of interested but tried to stay at negotiating. "That's pretty good," she said, with the careful tone of someone assessing an offer.
"And ice cream," Connie said. "Unlimited."
Missy's face did the four-expression sequence she did when she'd received what she wanted and was trying not to show how much she'd wanted it. She arranged herself into the posture of someone accepting reasonable terms.
"I suppose," she said, "if you need company, I can make myself available."
George looked at his youngest daughter.
"Where does she get that from?" he said to Mary.
Mary looked at Connie.
Connie drank her beer.
After dinner, as the table was clearing, Georgie appeared at Mike's elbow.
"So you're coming to Houston," he said.
"Looks that way," Mike said.
"Good." Georgie picked up his plate. "Also, Dad said he's handling the rewards he promised before the end of the weekend. You know — for the tutoring thing."
Mike shook his head. "I told him I didn't need anything."
"He's going to do it anyway," Georgie said. "You know how he is."
"I do," Mike said.
Missy appeared from the direction of the kitchen doorway and grabbed Mike's arm again — lighter this time, just making contact rather than making an argument.
"Don't forget Stacie," she said. "When you're in Houston."
The Barbie Dreamhouse Stacie set. The one with the horse. He'd promised her before the tutoring sessions started.
"I won't forget," Mike said.
She gave his arm one satisfied pat and went to help Mary with the dishes, which she did sometimes when she was in a good mood and never when she wasn't.
Mike watched her go.
He looked around the kitchen — George at the sink, Georgie putting away the bread, Sheldon already back at his notebook in the dining room, Connie at the counter with the last of her beer — and felt the specific, warm weight of a place that had become familiar in a way he hadn't been expecting when he arrived.
He picked up a dish towel and helped with the rest of the clearing.
(End of Chapter 84)
[Reader Event Active]
500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter
10 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter
Thanks for reading!
20+advance chapters on P1treon Soulforger