The Perfect Son (30 page)

“But I chose you to be the father of my child,” she said, and picked at her thumbnail. Even her beautifully shaped nails were split and broken these days. “Isn’t that all that matters? I chose you, the person who caught me when I was falling. I chose you, Felix.”

“You chose me,” Felix repeated.

She chose me.
All these years he’d been wrong! She hadn’t married him because it was the best decision; she’d married him because she wanted him.
Him.
She had chosen
him
. He laughed and locked his arms around her like a safety harness.

“You’re not mad?”

“Don’t you see?” He was still laughing. “The pregnancy was the excuse I needed to get on a plane and follow you. I had no angst over my decision. I had nothing but relief, relief that we could be together, that I didn’t have to wait for you to reject me. I chose you, too, Ella Bella. Don’t you see? We chose each other.”

“No, you did the honorable thing. You married me because you have an overinflated sense of right and wrong.”

“I married you because I was passionate about you. Because you were the sexiest, most intriguing, most beautiful woman I had ever met, and for some unknown reason, you appeared to want to spend your life with me. I followed my heart, and I would do it again. Here, now, the morning after Valentine’s Day, I choose you.” He pulled her closer still. Breathing in lavender, he kissed her hair. “I choose you for the rest of my life.”

She draped her arm over his thigh. “Even though I look like death on a stick.”

“You’re beautiful and sexy, and you always will be. You can’t hide it, Ella. The only thing that prevents me from jumping your bones right now is the realization that sex would probably kill both of us.” He stroked her cheek, smooth as porcelain, cold as marble. “On the other hand, what a way to go.”

“Not for Harry. He’d find us.”

“And need even more therapy. Ella, I’m sorry—for not being a better husband, a better father. For not being someone you could trust with the truth.”

“Do you have any secrets to wipe clean?”

Felix eased himself out of her embrace, stood, and adjusted the thermostat on the wall. “Let’s continue talking in bed while the house warms up.” He held out his hand; Ella took it.

“It’s been a while,” she said, “since we just talked.”

They stopped outside the spare room, and he put his ear to the door. “Snoring soundly,” he said. This constant concern for others was a strange new feeling. He still couldn’t decide whether to categorize it as good or bad. He made a move toward their bedroom, but Ella didn’t budge.

“Forty-eight percent of women don’t survive their first heart attack,” she said. “Do you ever wonder why I survived, Felix—why I’m not in the forty-eight percent?”

“No. It’s a statistic. Nothing more.” He might have shared the truth once with Harry, but he would never say,
Ella, I’m terrified.
Fear had always been something he’d wrestled alone. Besides, from now on, he was choosing a different path, a different attitude.

“Tell me it’s going to be okay,” she said. “The future, I mean. Please.”

“I can’t.” He kissed her—a kiss that wasn’t a prelude to sex, to good-bye, or to hello. A kiss that screamed
mine
. From now on, he would kiss her every day—and take the time to do it right.

The house hummed back to life: the fridge gurgled, ice dropped from the ice maker, the hall floor creaked as if a ghost were walking toward them. The wind must have shifted. The flue was still open, and a sudden draft came from the fireplace, bringing a strong smell of wood smoke.

“Things might never be the same.” Felix combed his fingers through her hair. “They might be a little harder, but you’re still Ella Bella. And this—what we have here, right now—this is good.”

“You’ve discovered mindfulness?”

“I’ve discovered the world according to Eudora.”

Finally, Ella smiled. “Maybe she really is Mary Poppins.”

They lay side by side, facing each other as the morning light filtered through the gauze blinds. Outside a solitary bird sang the dawn chorus.

“The wood thrush is awake,” she said, turning away from him. “Do you remember why I agreed to buy this house?”

Was that a trick question? “Because the camellias were blooming?”

“That was part of it, yes.” She turned back with a smile. “But it was also because of the light in this room. When the sun hits our bed around mid-morning, and Harry’s in school and you’re at work, it’s my guilty pleasure to sneak in here and lie down for fifteen minutes.”

“A power nap?”

“An excuse to shut out the world and just
be
.” She exhaled—a long, slow release. “Felix. You’ve been amazing. Thank you.”

“I have another Valentine’s Day gift. More of an idea, really. I was thinking about turning the shed into a workshop for you.”

“So I could make jewelry again?”

He nodded. “After the heart transplant, after you’ve healed. What do you think?”

Ella wiggled her lips from side to side the way she did when she was thinking. “I’d like that.”

As the heat continued to vibrate through the ceiling vent, her fingers traced patterns on his chest. Felix closed his eyes.

“Take off your T-shirt,” she said. “I want to touch skin.”

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

Ella put a finger to his mouth. “
Shhh.
Take it off.”

He did; and Ella burrowed into his naked chest. “Now it’s your turn to open Pandora’s box,” she whispered between butterfly kisses. “Start by telling me why you disengaged from the family. It was long before Harry was diagnosed.”

“It’s hard to focus when you’re . . .”

“Do you want me to stop?” Her voice sounded breathy.

“God, no,” he groaned and, pulling Ella’s face up to his, kissed her gently. Then he flattened his hand over her heart. “But your heart’s running a marathon. We can’t do this.”

“I know.”

She snuggled into him, and Felix started to talk. Words spilled out, about spanking Harry, about the fear that he could become his father. And then Ella asked, as he knew she would, about the scars, about whether Tom had them, too. And Felix told her everything. For Ella he relived the memories, even the one he’d never shared with Tom.

“Did your mother know?” she said.

“I have no idea. Marriages are full of secrets.”

“Not ours. Not any longer.”

He began to tap his palm, jabbing himself with his fingernails despite the pain. Ella reached for his hand and kissed the tips of his fingers one by one.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she said.

“I stepped down from the partnership this week. After your transplant, I plan to leave and set up by myself.”

“Felix, no. Your job means everything to you.”

“You mean more. Things have changed, and I have to adapt. Something else I’ve learned from Eudora.” Felix tweaked her nose. “What if we’ve been given a gift?”

“Are you serious? I have a near-death experience, and you become the family optimist?”

“Apparently so. Tom is turning in his grave.”

Ella gave a wheezy laugh.

“What if this bizarre period in our lives is a second chance to help us find everything we’ve lost? Help me face my fear of being a father. Help you find your way back to that dream of a little jewelry shop.”

She snuggled into his chest, and gradually her breathing fell into the gentle flow of untroubled sleep.

He’d had such hopes for Valentine’s Day, and it had surpassed every one. Despite the circumstances that had brought them together as a couple, there had been nothing accidental about their marriage. She had chosen him, just as he had always chosen her. “I chose you, Felix.”

Buzzed, Felix vowed to stay awake—the keeper of this most perfect moment.

THIRTY-FOUR

Harry jiggled from foot to foot outside the women’s restroom. What was taking Sammie so long? The movie would be starting. Not that he really cared if they missed the beginning. Or the middle. Or the end. He was here only to sit in the dark and hold Sammie’s hand. Maybe sneak in a kiss. For the first time since Mom’s heart attack, life felt normal. He was on a date! Like every other hot-blooded American guy on a Saturday night. Except for Max, their designated chauffeur, who was wandering across the lobby shoveling fistfuls of popcorn into his mouth.

“Giving up my Saturday evening for true love,” Max had said earlier. He’d also told Harry he and Sammie could sit in the back of the car and make out, but Harry had
some
pride. He let Sammie sit up front on the way there but leaned forward to hold her hand. Well, as far forward as the seat belt would allow. Touching Sammie meant anchoring himself in pure happiness. He wanted to be with her forever and ever and ever. Times infinity.

A cute emo chick by the concession counter eyed up Max. Harry tried to signal with his head.

“What?” Max said loudly, spitting out bits of popcorn. The emo chick made a face and disappeared into movie theater one.

“Cute girl was
sooo
eyeing you up, dude. Before you regurgitated half a ton of popcorn.”

Max snorted. “We’ll find plenty of hot babes in Boston. Still can’t believe your parents said yes. This is going to be rad.”

“I don’t want a hot babe. I have Sammie. Besides, college girls aren’t going to give you the once-over. We’re high school juniors. The lowest of the low.”

“I guess.” Max slumped back against the wall with one foot propped up, looking every inch a rock star. Or maybe a beat poet. “You do realize if you go to college near Boston, you’ll be freezing your balls off for six months of the year. And I won’t visit to protect
mine
.”

“You’re such a southerner.”

“Last time I checked, so were you.” Max glanced at the women’s restroom. “Ever wonder what takes them so long?”

“A more complicated process, I guess.”

Max grunted yeah
.
“Hey, your dad’s pretty chill these days. You never told me he was a Joy Division fan.” Max slotted the popcorn bag under his arm and picked at his bright-blue nail polish.

“He is?”

“Yeah. Overheard me singing ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ and said it was one of the few songs he’d liked at our age. A man of most excellent musical taste.”

“Dad’s not really into music.” Harry’s phone blared with the clown horn that drove Dad nuts. Mom had started texting him again. Like, all the time.

When will you be home?

we just got here movie starts in five

Right. Sorry. Fell asleep. Dad had to run into the office. Some crisis with Curt. Eudora says hi. She wants to know if you and Max will go and see a sci-fi movie with her next week.

Mom didn’t really understand texting. Her messages were more like emails. Crazy long.

sure!!!

<3 Text me before you leave.

“Your mom again?” Max said.

“Yup.” Harry put his phone on “Mute.” “This trip is making her super nervous, and now I’m super nervous—and worrying about whether it’s putting too much strain on her heart and if she’s going to end up back in the hospital. Last night, she created all these scenarios of stuff that could go wrong and asked me how I would handle them.”

“Yeah. You and me on a road trip. What’s to worry about?” Max grinned. He hadn’t inherited a single worry gene. “And your dad?”

“Seems pretty laid-back about the whole thing. Go figure.”

“Did you tell either of them about the other part of your plan?”

“No way.” Harry paused. “You didn’t tell your parents, right?”

“Duh. I’ve been keeping your secrets since we were mere blobs in diapers, my friend. Mere blobs. Why change the habits of a lifetime?”

“We were out of diapers.”

“Irrelevant.” Max swept away the comment, apparently forgetting he was holding a large bag of popcorn. Kernels scattered over the carpet. “My life began the moment you shared your juice box with me on the jungle gym. Complete with a healthy serving of Fitzwilliam drool.”

Harry gave him a high five, and then Sammie came out of the restroom and grabbed his hand and he nearly dissolved into a puddle of happiness. Life was looking pretty good about now. Even though he secretly agreed with Mom. A thousand things could go wrong with this trip, and underneath all those worst-case scenarios? He was scared to death.

THIRTY-FIVE

Wired—he was wired with heart-thumping, sweat-making, head-pounding nerves. Could a guy chew himself raw?

Harry threw his boxers into the bag and tried to pay attention to Mom, who was sitting wrapped up in the big chair. Supervising with a list. She used to give Dad a hard time about lists, but she was a list maker, too.

He chucked in the pair of backup shoes she’d insisted he take. He’d be gone three days. Why would he need a second pair of shoes? “In case anything happens to the first,” Mom had said. Nope. Didn’t get it. His elbow flapped; his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth.

Mom sighed an overly dramatic sigh. “Shoes and heavy stuff should go on the bottom, sweetheart. Do you have your meds?”

“Meds! Right. Knew I forgot something.”

Mom groaned.

Was Max here yet? Would Sammie miss him? How much would she miss him? Flash thought to the unopened box of condoms hidden in his bathroom.

“Nervous?” she said.

“A bit.” He cleared his throat. Telling the absolute truth would make everything worse. Shitstorm worse. Panic-attack worse.

“If you get anxious at the gate, you’ll text me, right?”

“Yup!” Lots of bravado crammed into that one word. Lots! “Ready for my swashbuckling adventure.”
If I don’t throw up my breakfast first.

Mom twizzled her wedding band. “And if you get anxious on the runway, do the same. Even if they’ve told you to turn off your phone.”

Another big, fake smile. “You told me this already, Mom.”

“And don’t forget to go to the bathroom before they start boarding.”

Okay, enough.
“Mom, I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Sorry, I’m turning into such a ninny.”

“I can do this, Mom.” Double thumbs-up.

“I know. You’ll have a wonderful time, and Dad and I will be nervous wrecks.”

Somehow he doubted that last part—about Dad. Although Max was right. Dad wasn’t so bad these days. And it was a helluva lot easier dealing with him over the trip. Mom fussed about every little detail, made him twice as anxious.

Harry tossed in his black jeans. “I love you, Mom. And I’ll be fine. Stuff never freaks me out when old Maxi’s around.”

Max never fussed.
Hallelujah!

Mom’s smile was as convincing as Dad acting out exuberance. “This is a huge step for you.” She twisted her hands together. Around and around, like she was trying to create knots.

She doesn’t think I can do it.

“I promise if anything goes wrong, even the slightest hiccup, I’ll call home.” Harry switched to his Darth Vader voice. “I’m off to fulfill my destiny.” He paused. “But I’ll worry about you the whole time.” What if something happened to her while he was gone?

“I’ll worry about you, too. That’s what mothers do.” Mom tugged her little-old-lady cardigan around her shoulders. “Time for a pact—neither of us will worry about the other one.”

“Most excellent plan.” Harry threw in his toothbrush.

“Uh, no.” Mom sounded more Mom-ish than she had in weeks. “Put it in a Ziploc bag, Harry.” She nodded at the pile of plastic bags Dad had left out.

Dad stuck his head around the door. “Can we speed it up? Max just arrived.” He stared at the half-packed suitcase. “You do realize he’s just going to dump it all in on the way home, Ella, which makes the packing lesson utterly pointless.” He turned to Harry. “Money. Credit card. Phone charger. Do you have your photo ID?”

“Check, check, and check.” Harry pulled out his new wallet and waved his learner’s permit.

Dad scooped up the remaining clothes, put them in the bag, smoothed them out, zipped it up. “Let’s go.”

“Bye, Mom!” Harry darted at Mom and kissed her cheek quickly. Then he grabbed his travel backpack, the one he always took to England because it was superlight and squishable and could go under any airplane seat and still leave him tons of leg room, and ran after Dad.

“Wait, Dad!”

“What?” Dad turned with his Medusa stare.

“Do
you
think I can do this?”

“Pack a bag in a logical manner?”

“No. Get on a plane by myself and fly to Boston.”

“You’re not flying by yourself. You’ll have Max.”

“That’s right, dude!” Max called out from the living room.

“But you think I can do this?”

“I hardly would have agreed to fund something I believed was destined to fail, would I? Yes. I believe you can do this. But whether you’ll return with all your possessions remains to be seen. And please don’t let some pickpocket steal your wallet.”

Just once, wouldn’t it be great if Dad gave a vote of confidence minus the critical add-on?