47
A Fun Time
At five o’clock the next day, Dyma burst through the oversized doors of Harlan’s house like a whirlwind, or possibly a tumbleweed, since her hair was sticking up more than ever. She and Annabelle had probably rolled the windows down and sung along to the radio half the way here. Jennifer was familiar with Dyma’s preferred driving mode, which could be summed up as “loud.”
“We made it,” Dyma announced unnecessarily. “Without a rollover accident, even. And, whoa. This house is crazy.” She and Annabelle headed over to the S-shaped almost-couch where Harlan was reading a book and Jennifer was studying financial reports on her laptop and trying to convince herself that, yes, she could definitely handle this job. She closed the computer with gratitude. She couldn’t study any more, right? Not if she needed to help Dyma settle in.
Dyma went on, “I thought Blake’s house was fancy. This is just insane. Annabelle opened the gate with her thumbprint. And the front door looks like …”
“Boxcar,” Harlan said. “Bank vault.”
“Exactly,” Dyma said. “And the rest of this is … Hang on. Show me, Annabelle.” They took a quick run around the main floor, with its stainless-steel railings surrounding the galleries overhead, its floor-to-very-high-ceiling glass, and its acres of stone. So much stone. A quarry’s worth of stone. Dyma did some exclaiming over the kitchen and a whole lot of opening and closing unfamiliar appliances. Warming oven. Two-drawer dishwasher. Refrigerator drawers, just in case the massively oversized fridge you already had wasn’t enough. Wine fridge, in case ditto. Built-in espresso machine and coffee bar. Grill and griddle on the stove, along with four burners and pot-filler faucet. The works.
“I guess when you get your modern art collection,” Dyma told Harlan when they got within hailing distance again—this was truly the biggest and least cozy room Jennifer had ever seen—“you’ll be all set, because you’ve got the museum already. This house is curved. Who has a curved house? Why does anybody have a curved house? Corners. They’re a thing. It needs some weird art, though. Like—giant white mannequin wearing Japanese armor. Rope art hanging forty feet down from the ceiling, with knots tied into it, signifying—I don’t know, the difficulty of life, maybe. Some kind of huge colored-glass deal. It needs installations.”
“I know,” Annabelle said with delight. “Isn’t it crazy? Just wait. I’ll take you on a tour. You should see Harlan’s bathroom.”
“A tour that starts with our place,” Jennifer said. “Where we will be living.”
“Oh, we already looked at that,” Dyma said breezily. “And, yeah, it’s about ten times nicer than any apartment I’ve ever been in. Not as weird as this, though. I’m all about the weird vibe.”
“I think Dyma should move into the room next to mine,” Annabelle said. “We talked about it. We’re sharing the tutor and everything—”
“Although I don’t need a tutor,” Dyma said. “Seeing as how I have projects to do for my AP classes, plus my programming final, and that’s it. Other than that, I just need you to sign off on my P.E. hours, Mom. But I can help Annabelle with Precalculus and Chemistry when the tutor isn’t here, since that’ll just be fun.”
“Fun, huh?” Harlan said. “First time I’ve ever heard those subjects described that way. And you don’t need anybody keeping you on track on those projects? You sure?”
“Well, yeah,” Dyma said. “Calculus is exciting. It’s, like, sexy, the perfection of it. The precision of it. And if I need somebody keeping me on track to do my projects, how’m I supposed to handle engineering school? I’m motivated, Harlan. It’s a thing.”
“You’re also rude,” Jennifer said. “Also a thing.”
“Really?” Dyma asked. “How?”
Jennifer said, “I’ll tell you later. We’ll diagram your sentences for rudeness factor. You also have to ask Harlan about staying in the house. That wasn’t our deal. Harlan, please be honest.”
“Excuse me,” Harlan said, “but that was my suggestion, remember?”
“Ha,” Dyma said. “I’ll bet I wasn’t the one you wanted over here, though.” She took a seat and bounced in an experimental fashion. “This couch is very strange. I feel like it should recline, at least. Surely something with this much leather on it, that I’ll bet was custom made, because who else would want it, should be more comfortable. Cows died for this?”
“Yep,” Harlan said. “Exactly.”
“The chairs in the theater recline,” Annabelle said.
“Excuse me,” Dyma said. “The theater?”
“Every NFL player has that,” Annabelle said. “And a gym, too. I’ll bet you anything Owen has a theater. I’ll bet you his gym is bigger than the one here, too, because he’s a lineman. Also that he has a pool table and probably a whole game room. There is a pool here, though. An indoor pool, but it feels like it’s outside, because glass. Want to go swimming? It’s so cool that you’re here,” she burst out impulsively. “It’s going to be so much better. It’s supposed to be the offseason, but Harlan does all this volunteering, and then he reads and runs and works out and cooks and watches sports, in this routine that’s almost exactly the same every day. It’s better here than home,” she hastened to add. “It’s so much better. But I’m really glad you’re here.”
Her voice trembled a little on the last sentence. Of course she was lonely. Of course she was.
“I totally want to go swimming,” Dyma said. “That was a long, boring drive. You owe me, Mom.”
“Boring, huh?” Harlan asked. “Didn’t hang your legs out the car windows? Didn’t wave at any passing semis? Didn’t flash anybody?”
“Excuse me,” Dyma said. “I’m a safe driver. And I have a boyfriend. I’m not flashing some random trucker. So what do you think? Will having Annabelle and me here be way too much actual, dangerous fun? We could go live in the other place, I guess, and you and Mom could stay here. Quieter for you, but then we can’t try out all the appliances and rearrange your kitchen cabinets, because they’re set up pretty inefficiently now, and hog the theater. That would be a downside.”
Jennifer said, “None of that is happening. I’m living in the apartment, and I think you should, too. Also, they’re not your kitchen cabinets, miss. If you want to rearrange something, get your own place.”
“Nope,” Harlan said. “As far as I’m concerned, go on and unpack your stuff into that guest room. I guess I can put up with a little noise. It’s a big house. As for my cabinets—hey, arrange away. I’m all about the beauty of change.”
“‘If you realize that all things change,” Dyma said, “there is nothing you will try to hold on to.’ Also, ‘Cultivate peace and order before confusion and disorder have set in.’ Which would be your cabinets. Lao Tzu,” she told Annabelle, who looked impressed.