The Talker. Mary Sojourner

of the move. In his crayon pictures, he’d started to color the doves purple and blue and red. Sometimes they had little balloons coming out of their mouths, saying “Her comes Jacob. Sunflower sedes are gud. We’re going to go hom to the oshin.” The only thing that seemed a little strange to Lisa and the shrink was that Jacob kept putting a big black office building in the picture. Sometimes he even wrote its name in the title: Mistere Bilding or Rock Doves, Inc.

      “Did you take him there?” Lisa asked. The shrink leaned forward, eyes alert, a patient smile on her lips.

      “A few times,” David said. “I thought he should see where his father worked. I mean, near there. You know.”

      The shrink nodded. “These days when so much is in upheaval, it’s good for children to know that what Mom does is important to her and what Dad does is important to him.” She nodded again. Lisa stared at her. The shrink tapped Lisa’s hand. “There’s no sense in running those old family patterns, is there? Remember? What we talked about? All those one-parent families when you and Davy…”

      “David,” he said.

      “…when you and David were kids. All those supposedly intact families, with no real dad at all, all those dads gone off to some mystery job and not fully present at home.”

      David wanted to agree with her. But, way inside he heard Sophieann. She’d said, “My dad, that poor sonofabitch—by the time he made it through the kitchen door, it was long after dinner. It was all he could do to keep his head out of his plate. The wells were running out and he was double-timing to try to get ahead a little.”

      David stood. The shrink glanced at her watch. “Ten more minutes, David.”

      “I’m done,” he said. “I don’t like what’s been decided. In fact, I think it sucks. But the judge has already made the decision. I don’t have much choice.”

      Lisa stared at him. He saw that she was tired and possibly scared. She glanced down at her hands.

      “I’m sorry,” she said. “Davy, it’s just that…”

      “You might be sorry,” he said. “I’ll give you that and if you are, stop calling me Davy. My name is David and tell Jacob it’s time to call me Dad. Grant us that little bit.”

      David didn’t wait for a reply. He left the room. He drove a long way before he let himself pull the car into a far corner of the Basha’s parking lot. He waited till he was sure he was alone and no one could see him. Then at last he cried.

      Lisa brought Jacob to the door. He carried the box in himself and set it on the kitchen table. The Indian blanket was stapled on three sides, taped shut on the fourth.

      “He wanted to be sure they didn’t escape,” she said, “so he could let them loose to live near you.” She looked at the refrigerator and studied Jacob’s drawings. “Mystery building,” she said. “Oh Davy, do you think it’s inherited?”

      “I hope so,” he said. She turned to go and stopped.

      “David is what I meant to say,” she said. “I’ll try to remember. I told him you’d explain it to him. About your name. About Dad.” She kissed Jacob on the cheek and patted his butt. She reached out to shake David’s hand.

      “Wait,” he said. “Why this change? What made the difference? Something about me? You got your way?”

      “Oh David,” she said. “Who knows? Who fucking knows.”

      The next time David and Jacob sat outside in the aqua twilight, with the smell of the neighbor’s tamales floating in the air, the sound of hip-hop thumping in off the street, Jacob held the box in his lap and said, “Dad, you can keep your eyes open. You can watch the doves take off. You will love it. It will be so good you will laugh yourself sick.”

      He peeled back the tape and peeked inside. David moved a little closer.

      “Goodbye,” Jacob said. “Goodbye Pikachu and Long Feather and Freddy Krueger. It’s time to fly.” He held up the box.

      “Pull off the blanket, Dad,” he said. David tugged. The blanket slid to the ground. There was rustling, there was the faintest whisper of feathers moving, of wings ruffling in the air. Jacob giggled.

      “There they go, Dad,” he said. “They’re going home.”

      Saturday night, David and Jacob drove over to keep Sophieann company at work. He’d packed a spinach and feta cheese salad, nacho chips, steak fajitas and a raspberry-chocolate torte. He wore his new Security Engineer 2 shirt, the one with David embroidered on the pocket.

      Sophieann let Jacob wear her special Safe and Serene hat. They watched the computer lights flicker. They heard the sea monsters drifting and bumping outside. David told Jacob the monsters’ names. One was Pikachu and one was Long Fins. He wasn’t sure about Freddy Krueger. He didn’t think there was anything in the ocean that dumb and mean. He told them about the immense weight of black glittering water pressing in on the tiny room and how they were safe, the way the walls held strong, the pressure stayed steady and they had all the air they needed. Jacob told them about Pikachu and Long Feather, how they could fly in water and might be flying toward them right that minute, maybe even bringing them sunflower seeds. The Freddy Krueger dove had flown south.

      “Probably has family in Sonora,” Sophieann said.

      “You guys stand up side by side.” She flicked on her flashlight and held it under their chins. “You two are soul brothers,” she said. “You got those big mystery brains.”

      “No,” Jacob said, “he’s my dad. I’m his kid. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it’ll always be. He told me that. So did my mom.”

      They finished off every crumb of the raspberry-chocolate torte. David kept feeling tears salty in the back of his throat. He and Sophieann cleared things away. Jacob disappeared. They found him curled up in the brown velvet Reception Seating Module nearly asleep. David sat down and pulled Jacob into his lap. “Could you stay awake a few minutes more?” Jacob nodded. “I want to show you something. It’s really good.” David cradled Jacob in his arms and stood. Sophieann opened the door and did the fancy dance you had to do to keep the alarm from going off.

      Jacob laughed. “That’s so we can breathe water,” he said. David stepped into the alien glow of the security lamp and walked on out into the darkness near the fence. He hunkered down, Jacob a feather in his arms. Jacob looked out across the Inc.’s lawn.

      “Bunnies,” he said. “Big fat bunnies. Zillions of them.” He slipped out of David’s arms and crouched next to him. “They look like ghosts,” he said.

      “Listen,” David said.

      Jacob leaned forward. “I can hear them, Dad,” he whispered. “They’re chowing down.” The biggest jack glanced at them. His jaw went still.

      “Where do they live?” Jacob said.

      “Guess,” David said.

      Jacob looked up toward the Inc’s flood-lamp beaming out into the dark. The spindly tree seemed a glowing crack in the black face of the building. A little jack sat up, her long paws dangling in front of her. They heard her sniff the air. She twisted and dropped to her haunches.

      “She’s going,” Jacob said. “You go home now,” he whispered. The jack hopped a few steps and paused. “Go home now,” Jacob said and giggled. The jack startled and began to go. She was a shadow in the dark, a leaping in the light. When she came to the ground-cover just outside the Inc., she stopped and sat. Jacob waved once. The jack disappeared into the shadows. Jacob snuggled into David’s chest. “She was all shining,” he said. “Like magic. Dad, I’ve got a question.”

      “Shoot,” David said.

      “Do they have magic bunnies in California?”

      “Maybe not magic,” David said carefully, “but these jacks will always be here.” Jacob burrowed