“Oh,” Felix said. She could almost hear him frown. “I should have known that, shouldn’t I?”
“No, Felix. We chose to be on different tracks because we did what works for our family. Life isn’t perfect, but we’ve been managing, haven’t we?”
Three days ago, she wouldn’t have asked that question because she wouldn’t have cared how he answered. But this evening, here in this ugly hospital room that wasn’t dark enough for sleep, it mattered. She wanted it back—her life. All of it, the way it was.
Felix seemed to be walking around; a door closed. “Why did you never leave me, Ella?”
“Why would you ask that? I love you.” How could he doubt her?
“Is marriage really that simple?”
“It has to be. How else would couples survive? Marriage never runs on an even keel. We love each other and we’ve created a life together. What else matters?”
“Do you ever wonder what might have happened if we hadn’t both been on the Tube that day, in the same carriage, six feet apart?”
“Of course not. It was destiny and it led to Harry.”
“Right.” Felix drew out the word as if he were trying to make sense of it. “Do you want to speak with him, say good night?”
“Not just yet.” Ella held the phone as close as she could. She had to compose her next sentence with care. Felix was overly sensitive about anything he classified as criticism.
“I’m pretty anxious—about everything. You worry,” she said quietly. “A lot. How do you cope?”
“One has to face one’s demons and keep going. Channel the British war mentality.”
“I’m not British.”
“Close enough.” He hesitated. “We will get through this, darling. Despite your cardiologist and his God complex.”
“You’d have one, too, if you held people’s hearts in your hands.”
The void slunk back into place and threatened to swallow her whole. “I’m pretty beat. I should talk to Harry. ’Night, Felix.”
“’Night, Ella.” Felix paused. “Harry! Come talk to your mother.”
And Felix was gone. Ella rested the weight of the phone against her cheek and waited.
“Mom! How’re you feeling? How’s the food?”
“Crap and crap. How’s school?”
“Awesome. Everyone’s being fantastically nice. And I got one hundred five percent on that calculus test.”
“One hundred five percent?”
“Bonus questions. Didn’t you get my texts?”
“Sorry, baby. I must have been asleep.” He’d sent so many, and she didn’t have the energy . . .
“That’s okay. I wondered why you didn’t answer them, but Dad said they keep you busy in there. So. Whatcha doin’?”
“About to go back to sleep. I’m training for the world sleep record.”
Harry giggled. “Mom . . .” She knew that tone. He had a secret. “Remember the new girl in tenth grade?”
“Sammie Owen?”
“Yeah. I think she likes me. You know, like likes me.”
“I hope you’ve asked her to a movie or something.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Sweetheart—this is one of those cases when you should act first, think later. What if you hesitate and someone else asks her out? Do it. I dare you. No, I double dare you.” Ella stopped to breathe. Such exhaustion. “How are you and Dad getting along?”
“He’s a little scary as Mr. Mom. Cuts the crusts off my sandwiches.”
“Ask him not to.”
“But he’s trying really, really hard, and I don’t want to, you know, upset him.” Harry gave a Harry sigh, which was more of a warp-speed snort. “When’re you coming home?”
“We’re shooting for Saturday. Have you talked with Dad about the sleepover?”
“No, I figured I’d cancel it.”
Harry clicked his tongue, a tic she hadn’t heard in a while. Was he regressing? Were Felix and Harry not trying hard enough to connect? Her heart picked up its pace, pounding as if through a megaphone.