Stephen Dixon - Time to Go

Each year when spring comes I do a lot of handyman work for the row houses that line Wilmin Park Drive on the 2900 to 3300 blocks. Across from the 3100 block is a park bench and this spring for about a month on the nice days I see this man push a stroller with a baby in it to the bench and stay there for an hour or two around the same time every afternoon. Sometimes he reads for a few minutes or eats an orange while the baby sleeps or is quiet, but usually he has the baby in his lap or stands it up on his thighs or holds it in the air or feeds it some bottle or baby-jar food or keeps it sitting up on the bench but always with a wide bonnet on or its face out of the sun and he kisses and hugs it a lot and smiles and talks to it a lot too, words I never hear, this baby of around six to nine months. Ive never seen a man so affectionate to his baby, maybe not even a woman to her baby too. I mention him a few times to some of the people I work for. Several times when he looks our way as we talk or just my way if Im working alone then and sees us or me looking at him, he waves and we wave back or I wave back alone and then he goes back to being so affectionate to the baby.

Then one day he doesnt show up, but a nice sunny day, one Id think he would. And not the next nice day and the next nice day after that. When he doesnt show up on the nice days for a couple of weeks, I mention it to the homeowner Im working for that day. Remember that man with the baby on the bench he was pretty tall and had kind of sandy hair but there almost every afternoon or at least every afternoon when I worked around here? and she says Most certainly do. Hasnt been around for awhile, I know. Something terrible almost unspeakable happened. I say Yes? and she says He got mad one day, but I mean stark raving crazy mad I got this from a woman I know who lives on his street and knew he spent some time on our park bench almost every day. Anyway, he got so mad that he shot his wife because she made him mad or as a result of his getting that way and killed her instantly in their home and is now up for trial and the babys with his wifes sister. I didnt read anything about it in the papers, but this woman friend said it absolutely happened and that everything bad like that that happens in the city doesnt appear in the news. I thought I spoke about this with you.

No, really Im shocked and surprised. I didnt think hed do anything like that to his worst possible enemy. He had so much to lose, with that baby, and seemed so peaceful and affectionate; and with those spontaneous waves of his, to other people and myself, very nice.

A week later, the man Im trimming bushes for says Howard, you recall that strange man who used to spend the end of almost every pleasant afternoon on the bench there? and I say Yes sir. I heard something awful happened to his wife and child. Something awful indeed. For a few weeks I was wondering why we didnt see him anymore he had practically become a fixture on the drive. Then Im talking to Bill Schechtersomeone else I work forbut about something entirely different, when he says that the mans wife suddenly got very sick and died in less than a month. And the man got so upset over it that he couldnt function normally and had to be institutionalized, and the baby, until the authorities can find a relative of the husband and wife willing to take her in, had to be placed in a temporary home.

No, I say, thats terrible. And the babys a girl? I heard something much different happened, but both things couldnt be worse. What did you hear? he says and I tell him and he says Oh no, Bill Schechters brother lives two doors away from the family and thats what Bills brother said.

About a month later in the supermarket I bump into one of the people I work for on Wilmin Park Drive. We start talking general-like and then she says By the way, do you remember the young very neatly dressed man on the bench right across from my house who used to wave to us from time to time? and I say The one who was so nice to his baby kissing and hugging her all the time? I heard. Isnt it something? Because rarely do you see a man so openly adoring and attentive to his child, so you can just imagine how he, and of course his wife, felt after. And at the babys funeral my God. I say What funeral? I didnt hear about any baby dying, and she says Oh yes. Bertha Arnold saw it in the Evening Sun and over TV. She put two and two together quite easily, she said, when she saw the photo of the man and read their address and the babys age. He and his wife and their baby were in a rowboat they rented at Loch Maiden and the mans wife stood up, it was never said for what, and the boat capsized and the baby drowned.

I dont tell her what Ive already heard about the man and his family, just look very shocked when Im really not feeling that way because Im wondering more what really did happen.

Just a few days later Im doing work for a couple who live a block down from Mrs. Larkin who told me the drowning story. I ask if theyve heard about the man who used to bring his baby to the park every spring day for about a month and who we talked about a couple of times and Mr. Radderman says We thought you out of anyone would have known what happened to them because you get around so much, and I say No sir, nothing, though I am curious, because when you see a man and his baby almost the exact same time almost every day and especially when he His wife left him for a friend of his and took the baby with her. They lived just a short walk from him and after he went over there a few times to take the baby back, they took off and disappeared. We heard it from our top-floor tenant, whos a graduate student in the same department the man teaches in. He knew him and in fact from his window he used to see him sit on the bench with Olivia, the baby daughter, on some of those days. Its so sad. The professor must be heartbroken not for his wife so much but the baby. Because in your life, Howard, have you ever seen a man so attached to his child? Sometimes, I was telling Mrs. Radderman, but just a silly joke, of course, it looked almost incestuous. I say Never, and go back to fixing their front steps, looking out to talk to their tenant who might show, but he never does.

Two months later when Im painting the porch deck of Mrs. Cottrell, who lives a few doors down from Mrs. Larkin, I see what Im sure is the same man on the bench. Hes alone, no stroller, a book and paper bag next to him on the bench, staring at the ground for about an hour or so or maybe asleep, because either his eyes are naturally very narrow I forget from two months ago or closed. When he gets up and from the park side of the street passes the house, I want to wave to him but he doesnt look my way.

Hes there the same time the next day, which is around the same time he used to come with his daughter. Now the suns higher up and much stronger than it was in the spring, which could be why he wears one of those white sailing caps today, not realizing yesterday he had to. But everything else is much the same as it was when he came here in the spring: has a book, though this time he reads it for an hour, which I dont ever remember him doing then, and takes an orange out of a paper bag instead of the tote bag he had attached to the stroller. He looks up at the sun and a passing plane a few times, but mostly just stares at the trees some distance across from him and occasionally at the cars and joggers and the few people who stop in the park to let their dogs loose.

He comes back the next day. Im at the top of a ladder against Mrs. Cottrells house, trimming the second floor window, frames. Suddenly shes looking out the bedroom window Im working on, checking to see how good a job Im doing, I suppose, or just making sure Im working at what shes paying me for. I nod to her, she starts speaking to me while pointing to the park, then she mouths Wait, since I cant hear her through the closed window, and leaves the room. Next shes standing at the foot of the ladder and says Howard, excuse me for interrupting you, but what I was saying upstairs was isnt that man on the park bench the one who used to come months ago with his baby every day the baby who I was told was in a car crash with the mans wife where they both died? I say Is that what they say happened, Mrs. C.? Because Ive heard a half-dozen stories about what happened to him and his family, and she says What else did you hear? and I say Too many to remember, but all different, and she says Oh, if I only had the nerve to ask him. Not pointblank but around it. But pity no matter what it was, dont you think? Of course you do, because he loved that little darling. That was obvious in every one of his gestures.