“Thank you,” she said when she ran out of breath for more laughter. “Both of you. For this most perfect evening. I wish I could preserve it in a snow globe.”
Harry sat down on the hearth and stared into the fire. Orange firelight illuminated one side of his face, as perfect as that of a Botticelli angel; the other side remained in shadows. Felix stopped laughing, and the atmosphere in the room shifted. The fire crackled, but the air became cold and heavy. Ella shivered. It was as if the house itself had stopped breathing. She glanced from Harry to Felix and back again.
“Dad and I had a really good chat about colleges the other day, didn’t we, Dad?”
That had to be good, right? So why the dread clawing at the back of her neck?
“And we’re going ahead with the spring tour. Want to tell her the rest, Dad?”
Yes, want to tell me the rest, Felix?
Felix moved in front of the fire and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve given my permission for Harry and Max to visit Brandeis University outside Boston. They will be attending an open house on February twenty-seventh.”
“That’s great.” She pulled herself up on the mound of cushions and pillows. “I’m happy you’re thinking about college. Are Max’s parents driving you?”
“They’ll be flying,” Felix said. “Alone.”
“Harry, sweetheart, you’re phobic.” Her heart began to thud. “You’ve never flown without me.”
“I know, Mom, but my anxiety isn’t as bad when Max is with me.”
“And if something goes wrong?” She kept her voice level.
The log in the fire made a weird whistling noise, as if oxygen were trapped inside and could detonate at any second.
“Then I’ll have to face my fear. Gotta live outside your comfort zone. That’s where all the good stuff happens. Or so they say.” Harry grimaced and blinked, and then gave a Harry shrug—quick and floppy. “And if I can do this, then I can consider applying to out-of-state colleges. Maybe even Harvard.”
There it was, the elephant in the room. The one that had caused her to have a panic attack, that had brought back all those memories from the plane. She slowed down her breath, visualized the ocean—calm and flat.
“Dad thinks I can do it. And we were hoping we could stay with your old roommate in Boston. Dad doesn’t want us in a dorm.”
Ella’s brain struggled to keep up even as her heart threatened to explode through her rib cage. Was this what happened when she made Felix the primary parent—he cut their son loose?
Felix moved back toward her and sat on the arm of the sofa. “We have to let him try this. We have to let him go. Isn’t that what it means to be a good parent—to let go?”
No, she wanted to scream, I’ve spent seventeen years holding on. I can’t let go. I don’t know how.
“Maybe you guys should talk about this without me.” Harry bounced up. “I’m going to call Sammie, see if they have power.”
“No, you’re not,” Felix said. “We need to reserve our mobiles for emergencies. Besides, we haven’t finished the family discussion. Ella, what are you thinking?”
What was she thinking? A mudslide of contradictions: she had to let go and she couldn’t. She used to be the family anchor, but now she was the reason Harry couldn’t use his cell phone. She was a potential family emergency twenty-four seven. Despite the sudden chill, she began to sweat. Thoughts of Harry on a plane, in crisis, needing her. Memories of being on the flight from Florida. The living room seemed to slant away from her.
She stared at Harry, her thoughts building like a migraine. She had once been the gravity of his universe, the focus of his unlimited adoration. Silently, she grieved for the little boy who had never been embarrassed by her, who had never ignored her when she’d volunteered at school functions, who had never dodged a kiss given at an inopportune moment. Who had never rolled his eyes and said, “Mooommm. Really?”
“I’m thinking how hard it is to let my baby go. I love you.”
Harry grinned.