Neal Pollack - Alternadad

CONTENTS

This book is dedicated with love and gratitude to my parents, Bernard and Susan Pollack. Mom, Dad: Please dont read chapter seven.

Everybody works but father
And he sits around all day,
Feet in front of the fire
Smoking his pipe of clay,
Mother takes in washing
So does sister Ann,
Everybody works at our house
But my old man.

JEAN HAVEZ, 1905

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ETERNAL FLAME OF MY HEART: Regina Allen.

BELOVED SPAWN: Elijah Pollack.

BELOVED PET: Hercules.

INTERMITTENTLY BELOVED PET: Gabby.

NOT-SO-BELOVED PET: Teacake.

EDITOR: Andrew Miller.

AGENT: Daniel Greenberg.

LOS ANGELES BUREAU: Shawn Hopkins, Justin Manask, Steve Golin, Rene Reyes, Marcy Morris, Joe Cohen, Greg Lessans, Alix Madigan, Kim Randall, Kevin McCormick, and Ryan Kallberg.

TRUSTED FRIENDS AND COLLEAGUES WHO READ THE BOOK ALONG THE WAY OR PROVIDED COUCHES AND/OR BEDS DURING VARIOUS EDITORIAL MISSIONS: John Hodgman, Todd Pruzan, Joy Bergmann, Jane Lerner, John Senseney, Jack Peasley, Liam Ford and Ann Weiler, Jim Arndorfer and Paula Wheeler, Shoshana Berger.

AUSTIN BUREAU: Ben Brown, Katie Spence, Scott Richardson and Kathleen Scanlan, Zach Horton and Debbie Smith, Michael and Kristina Barnett, Shannon McCormick and Lacey Eckl plus Emmett, Micki Gibson and Jennings Crawford plus Eamon, Jenna and Shelby plus Mia, Jennifer and David plus Sam, the ladies of the Book Club/Hedonist Society, Owen and Jodi Egerton, Milton, Mary Jane, Tessa and Emma Matus, Mike Donohoo, Denise Daley, Heather Crist, Alex Brown, and whoever cleaned up the messes Elijah made at Central Market.

THE NEAL POLLACK INVASION: Dakota Smith, Jim Roll, Jon Williams, and Neil Cleary (version 1.0). John Grey, Rob Timbrook, Todd Dwyer, and Nigel Smith (version 2.0).

BELOVED FAMILY BESIDES MY PARENTS, TO WHOM THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED: Margot, Lloyd, and Ali Hummel; Rebecca, Alex, and Jane Smith; Mary Allen; Brett, Donna, Westlund, and Mackenzie Allen; Larry and Estelle Dougherty, Captain Rick, Gigi, Michael, Simona, and Alana King; Liz, Drew, Luke, and Nicholas Porter; Michael, Catherine, and Enzo Dougherty; Jon King; Chris Dougherty; Sarah Dougherty.

BLOGMASTER: Kenan Hebert.

PANTHEON BUREAU: Farah Miller, Liz Calamari, Dixon Gaines, and Jenna Bagnini.

THE HERCU-FRIENDS: Bruno and Charlie.

SPECIAL THANKS: To Henri Mazza, for giving me a hot, dusty room to write in when I needed it most.

PROLOGUE

I was napping pleasantly on a futon one Saturday afternoon when my wife flung open the door. She held a filthy sponge in her left hand. A look of terrified desperation clouded her eyes.

Catastrophe! she said.

What? I said.

Your son took off his diaper. Hes throwing shit all over his bedroom! And hes enjoying himself!

Thats bad.

Its disgusting, thats what it is! Now get out of bed and help me clean!

Id woken up with the kid, who had just turned two, at 6:20 a.m., and I was tired. Plus, allergies had mashed my brains into lentil soup. They call it Cedar Fever here, which is an insult to cedars, and even to fever. Its horrible. My head was encased in a stack of hay. My eyes had been scraped dry. I needed a nap. No. I deserved a nap. But this situation required a dad.

Dammit all to hell! I said, and I got up.

Elijah stood in the middle of the living room. He was naked, flapping his arms, and hopping around like a Packers fan on Wild Card Sunday.

Ah-ha-ha! he said. Elijah bad!

Regina was in Elijahs room with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of industrial cleaner. She scrubbed the wall next to his bed with unrestrained fury. Elijah had thrown his blankies on the floor. Little chunks of poo corrupted all three of them. I cursed the fact that I was alive.

He smeared it all over the slats of his crib, Regina said. Its on his stuffed animals. Its everywhere. I really think Im gonna puke. I see carrots. Oh no! There are peas! And corn!

She wasnt looking at me as she said that. I think she was speaking to some kind of abstract God of Parenting. Then she turned to me with a command.

Entertain him! Now!

I looked at Elijah, who was cackling and turning in a circle. He didnt need to be entertained; he needed to be pacified. I turned on the TV. It was that Little Bear program where the Maurice Sendakcreated animated bears are such a happy family and they always solve lifes little problems, like getting lost in the woods or attacked by a puma, because their lives are based on sincere friendship and good judgment.

Oh, how I loathe Little Bear.

Regina emerged from the bedroom and pointed the sponge at me. Threat brewed in her gaze.

You need to run him a bath!

Right.

She returned to the bedroom. I went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Elijah made a beeline down the hall. I grabbed him around the waist and twisted him upward. He howled with glee.

Dont you dare, I said.

Daddy-doo! he said.

He looked so cute. I just had to tickle him right then. Regina continued her attempts to contain the situation. She ordered me to put bubbles in his bath, even though I always put bubbles in his bath and wouldnt consider doing anything else. But I understood. Sometimes, when matters spiral, you just need to control what you already know.

By the time the bathtub was filled, the trauma of the afternoon had already waned. Regina had picked up all the larger poo-chunks. She looked like a field surgeon three days after Antietam. All that remained was two loads of laundry.

Do you want help? I asked.

No. She sighed.

Are you sure?

Elijah take a baf! Elijah said. In da water! With Cookie Monster and ducks in da bubble baf!

Regina was the motor of my ambition, the bulwark of my soul, the apple of my eye, and the pearl of my heart. She handed me an afternoons worth of our baby sons shit.

Just get rid of this, she said.

I took it, because I loved her.

I walked outside. The wind nipped. I was wearing a white T-shirt, gray boxer briefs, and black socks pulled up to my knees. Also, I was holding a plastic Walgreens bag full of human excrement. A chill gust stopped me for a moment, and I had a premonition.

Someday, I realized, Ill look like this all the time.

BEFORE

ONE

Positively Chase Avenue

19931997

I n the early 1990s, years before I became a father, I lived in a neighborhood called Rogers Park, on the far North Side of Chicago. The neighborhood held a dozen blocks north to south that were lined with wide, shady trees. Thick-grained Lake Michigan beaches made up its eastern border. But despite its natural advantages, Rogers Park wasnt one of the fancier parts of Chicago at the time. We didnt get the upscale retro diners, loft condos, or bars that catered to Indiana University graduates who seemed to spread throughout the city as if hatched from pods. Instead, the streets of Rogers Park dripped of mild neglect. This made them interesting but not particularly dangerous.