Shiver (8 page)

"We're both fine. We can talk out in the hallway."

"Who is this?" My dad ignores my words and brushes right past me. "Someone tell me what's going on. I got a text from Ben saying you two had an emergency and he was in an ambulance on his way here."

Ben turns to our dad. "I was riding along, dad. Noah's friend fell in a park. She hurt herself."

My dad stops as he reaches the foot of Opal's bed. His eyes graze over her face.

"Are you okay? Did my sons rescue you?" It's a lighthearted joke that actually brings a smile to Opal's face.

She smooths her hand over her short blonde hair. "They saved my life. You should be proud of your sons."

"I am." He looks at me, then Ben. "My boys both make me very proud."

"We should go." Ben reaches for my dad's elbow. "We've already been here too long."

My dad doesn't move. He just stares. He fucking stares at Opal's face and I realize that it's still my mom's birthday and this woman has to be the same age as her. He's thinking about that. He has to be thinking about mom.

He pushes Ben's hand away as he rounds the bed until he's standing right next to Opal.

She looks up at him, the corners of her lips pulling up into a smile.

"Dad, let's go." Ben's voice is more insistent but my dad ignores it.

"You're sure you're okay? Do you need anything?"

Opal reaches out towards my father with her right hand and he doesn't hesitate as he pulls it into his.

"It's you. It's you, Ronnie, isn't it?"

"Opal?" He brings her hand to his lips. "I can't believe it's you."

"You remember me?"

"I told you I'd never forget you, didn't I?" He leans down and brushes his lips over her forehead.

I look at Ben. He looks at me.

"Is someone going to tell me what's going on?" The nurse effectively breaks the moment when she walks back into the room. "Patients are only allowed two visitors at a time."

"I'm not leaving." My dad sits on the edge of the bed next to Opal. "This here is Opal. She was my very first kiss. My very first love."

"What?" That's all I manage to get out.

"You and Opal know each other?" Ben asks. "You two actually know each other?"

"Opal sat next to me in first grade." He wipes a tear from her cheek. "I passed her notes. I told her I loved her. I gave her a Valentine's Day card I made myself. The very first one I ever gave to anyone."

"I have it." Her voice is soft. "I kept it, Ronnie."

"You don't have that still." He leans forward to look into her eyes. "That was more than fifty years ago now."

"My bag, Noah. I saw it here." Opal's voice is calm. "Can you get it for me?"

I've stepped into some dream. There is no fucking way this is real.

I hand the knapsack to my father and he hands it to Opal.

"Open it, Ronnie. It's in there somewhere."

He does. He pulls out a few pieces of clothing, some folded papers, dozens of photographs and greeting cards, a worn passport and then as his hand dives back into the bag one last time, he stops. He stops because he knows.

Ben knows.

I fucking know too.

"You kept it, Opal." He pulls out a faded red piece of paper. "You kept this for all those years."

I step closer to get a better look. I have to. I should actually be recording this with my phone because there's no fucking way Alexa is ever going to believe this.

"Roses are red," my dad starts reading the handwritten words he wrote when he was a child on the card. "Violets are blue. You like me and you know I like you."

Opal nods. "Read the signature."

"Love," my dad's voice cracks. "Love, Ronnie Foster."

––––––––

"Y
our dad is the most romantic man in the world, Noah," Alexa whispers those words into my neck.

"I just fucked you. I don't want to hear about how romantic my old man is right now."

She buries her face in my shoulder to quiet her laughter.

"He was six-years-old when he gave Opal that card." I point out as I run my fingers along her bare shoulder. "That wasn't romance. It's puppy love."

"Puppy love?" She's on her elbows, her chin resting in her hands. "She kept that card with her forever because she still loved him. That's not puppy love, Noah."

I know it's not. I've seen Opal and my dad together at least four times since she fell and broke her hip. They're living together in my place in Boston. I told him I'd hire a nurse to care for her after her surgery, but he wouldn't hear of it. He's been tending to every single one of her needs since that night he walked into her hospital room.

They love each other. They might have been pulled apart when they were twelve-years-old because her family moved to Europe for six years, but whatever bond was forged between them when they were kids, is stronger than ever now.

Each of them tried to find the other when they were widowed but somehow they never crossed paths. I could have made that easier if I would have told her my surname when we met. I never did because I didn't want that sweet older woman to judge me based on all the nude photographs I took. Maybe that was part of their fate and they were destined to find each other again now, when they are both healed and strong enough to love again.

I don't care how it works or why life goes the way it does. I care about my dad's happiness and I haven't seen him this filled with joy in years.

"Ron thought it would be nice if we all went to Boston for your birthday." She lightly kisses my cheek. "Your exhibit opens the day after so we can celebrate one night with the kids and then celebrate the opening the next night with Ben and Kayla."

"I love that plan." I tug her closer to me. "I'm proud of that exhibit, Alexa."

"I'm proud of you," she counters. "When people see those pictures, Noah they're going to be as touched by them as I am."

I'd looked to not only Alexa, but my father and Opal to help me choose which photographs I'll exhibit at the small gallery in Boston.  Each is a portrait of someone who has lived at the shelter. Some have gone on to find jobs, others are still there, taking life one day at a time.

Every single person I photographed understood why I wanted to take their picture and where the proceeds of any sales would go to. Each dollar goes into the shelter's coffers.

"Life doesn't get much better than this." I wrap my arms around my wife, pulling her nude body closer to me. "I can't imagine it ever getting better than it is right now."

***

"T
hese are fantastic, Noah." Nicholas Wolf looks down at the headshots I handed him. "You made me look better in these than I do in real life.

"That's the magic of filters," I joke. "I sent a set to your publisher this morning but I wanted to drop these off in person so I could thank you."

"Thank me?" He tucks the photographs back into the envelope. "I should be thanking you for making me look so good."

I can't tell if he's being genuine or not. He's wearing eyeglasses today and looks like he hasn't pulled a comb through his hair in a week. I'm pretty sure he could still walk outside and get laid within three minutes flat.

"You reminded me that I need to keep everything in perspective."

He turns to look right at me, pushing the glasses up and into his hair. "I admire guys like you. You've got it all figured out."

"How so?"

"You have a career that works for you. You're married. You've got kids." His eyes drift to the portrait of the nude woman I took years ago. "How did you find a real woman?"

"A real woman?"

"How did you know your wife wasn't after your money, or just wanted you because of who you are?"

"My wife," I begin with a deep chuckle. "My wife Alexa did not give one fuck about who I was when we met. She had no idea who I was."

"Where was she hiding? Under a rock?"

I laugh loudly this time. "My work didn't interest her. She treated me differently than any other woman ever had before. She never cared about the money, or the fame. She only cared about me."

"Where the hell do I find a woman like that?" he hesitates briefly. "I don't think a woman like that exists in New York."

"My wife walked right through the front door of my apartment," I say. "You never know where your future is. Keep your eyes open, Nick. Keep them wide open."

––––––––

"C
lose your eyes, Daddy." Chloe taps her hand on my knee. "Keep them closed until we say you can open them."

I'm trying. I'm trying so fucking hard to be the good dad and to follow the rules. When we got to Boston earlier today, I'd taken my kids to see where I'd gone to school. I treated them to lunch at the same burger place my folks took me to when I was their age and I promised to sit in my home office while they readied the main room for their big birthday surprise.

I haven't even had a chance to say hi to my brother, his wife and their daughter when they arrived. I've been sequestered away from the rest of my family and now, that I've finally been set free, I still have to keep my eyes closed so I don't ruin the surprise my son has been working on for weeks.

What happened to the days when I used to get plastered and pass out on my bedroom floor on my birthday?

"I love you, Daddy."

I almost choke up right there at those whispered words in my ear. That's my guy. That's my little boy telling me how much he loves me. That's enough of a gift to last me through every birthday I'll ever have a chance to celebrate.

"I love you, Daddy."

It's Chloe in my other ear. I press the palms of my hands into my eye sockets trying to ward off the approaching tears. There can't be another man walking the face of this earth who is as lucky as I am.

"Open your eyes, Noah." There is no mistaking that's my beautiful wife's voice.

I do.

I feel the weight of something in my lap so my eyes fall there instinctively. It's a photo album. The exterior may have been plain at one point, but it's not now. It's been decorated with crayons and scribbles and words of adoration from my children.

I study it carefully, reading the words.

Our daddy.

Our hero.

The best pancake maker ever.

He tells the funniest stories.

He gives the best hugs.

He keeps us safe.

"Open it." Max taps my knee. "I can't take it. Just open it."

I look up into his perfect little face. It's lit up with excitement.

"I'll open it," I say quietly.

I do.

The first page is a picture. It's a drawing signed by Max.

"This is me and this is Chloe." His fingers skim across the page. "This is you when you came to the community center the first time. See how happy Chloe and I are."

I nod as I push out a heavy breath.

I turn the page slowly. This time it's a picture of Alexa and me. It was taken just weeks after I met her. My father must have taken it at my gallery showing. Neither of us is looking at the camera, but Alexa is standing in front of me, my arms draped around her.

I know the instant when this was taken. I was explaining a photograph to her. I was telling her how beautiful she is, how she's different from every other woman I've ever known

I dart my eyes up to meet hers and she smiles. She knows. She remembers.

"This is when mommy fell in love with you." Max blushes. "She told us it was then."

"I fell in love with mommy then too."

Our wedding pictures take up the next six pages. Images of the twins as they walked down the aisle and Alexa and I sharing our first dance.

Our honeymoon in Hawaii covers the next two pages. Max with his feet in the ocean, Chloe perched high on my shoulders. A rock we found on the beach is taped to the top of the page and a dried flower that my daughter had worn in her hair the entire time we were there is glued beneath one of the pictures.

I turn each page to uncover a new treasure.

A drawing by Chloe of our first Halloween together, a poem written by Max for Father's Day.

There are pictures of Rex, and of Ben and his family.

There's one of my dad holding the twins on his lap.

My eyes blur more with tears with each page I turn.

I stop when I reach the first empty page halfway through the album.

"This is the end." Max closes the book slowly. "I'll keep filling the book until I'm as old as you are, Daddy. I'll always put something in our book for you."

I pull him into my lap with one arm, the other scooping up Chloe. I cling to them both as my family sings Happy Birthday to my twin brother and me.

Alexa leans down to kiss my cheek as I close my eyes soaking in this moment, this life and every single gift that I've been given.

S
ix Months Later

––––––––

I
walk into the kitchen as soon as I'm home. I see her immediately. She's quietly sitting at the table alone. The warm light from the late afternoon sun bathes her in a glow. Her head is bowed towards her notebook, her brown hair falling in waves around her shoulders.

"Hey sweetie." I stop to kiss the top of her head before I head to the sink to get a glass of water. "How was your day at school?"

"Hi." Her eyes stay buried in the work she's doing. A pencil in her left hand jotting things down. "I had a good day, Noah."

"Noah? Really? You're going to call me Noah now?"

"It's your name," she counters. "I've heard you call grandpa Ron before."

"That's different, Chloe." I sit across from her. "Your grandpa and I used to work together. He's helping me again now with a few things. I call him Ron strictly for business purposes."

"You and I are going to work together one day too, Noah," she says it stoically. "I'm going to be a photographer."

"You are?" I temper my excitement because I know my daughter. Last week she was going to be a veterinarian specializing in hamster care. The week before that her true calling in life was to make glazed donuts.

"Yes." She scribbles something in her notepad. "You can teach me everything you know."