From polar vortex to spring to record lows in the space of a few weeks. It was as if they were trapped in that film The Perfect Storm, when the characters thought they’d escaped, only to discover they’d been sucked back into the storm of the century. And a rogue wave.
Felix nodded at the woman, and then ducked down to fiddle with the heating controls, a preemptive strike against conversation for the “Ella update” grapevine. Not that there was anything to update. They were stuck in a holding pattern, running on fumes and waiting for permission to land. That had to change. The key was forcing Harry to think about the next stage of his life. If Felix could jump-start the college conversation, then he could give Ella something to focus on other than her ejection fraction and how far she could shuffle unaided. The college decision was about to become the family lifeboat. (Hopefully with no rogue waves on the horizon.) In the last two days, Felix had started making a new set of lists. Spring break was looming and he had a plan, although he had yet to initiate negotiations with Robert for more leave. In the meantime, there were flights, hotels, and rental cars to book; tours to sign up for; and arrangements to be made so that Harry could sit in on classes. It was a logistical nightmare, and one that was going to necessitate hiring in-home help for Ella, unless she had made a miraculous recovery at that point. But if they were extremely well organized, they could keep the trip short. First off, he needed Harry’s full attention and minimal distractions.
Since Harry processed life better on a full stomach, they would start in the café. At pickup each day Harry was cranky, which, Felix had discovered, was caused by hunger blended with bottled-up stress. Years ago, Ella had said Harry would suppress his tics and rage until he got in the car, and then everything would explode in a cyclone. Finally, Felix understood what she meant.
He poked his head up and glanced around to make sure there were no other school mothers on the prowl. He spotted Harry chatting and laughing, his arm draped around Sammie’s shoulder. Had he forgotten their date? Felix frowned. Harry had no sense of time, no sense of urgency, no sense of the fact that his father had cut out of work early, despite another barbed comment from Robert. If Harry bounced up to the car and asked him to drive Sammie home, nothing would contain his anger. And then he would be forever labeled the father who’d lost the plot in the school parking lot. Maybe he’d get some form of parental probation. Throughout school he’d never had detention, unlike Tom, who’d treated any notice of disciplinary action as a merit badge. How would it feel to be a rule breaker?
Harry’s head bobbed, but it was too controlled for a tic. Well, well, Harry was checking to make sure none of the teachers were looking. Then he kissed Sammie on the lips. Tom would have approved.
Harry started bounding down the front steps, then turned and rushed back to retrieve the lunch box he’d dropped during his illicit kiss. Felix raised his eyes. Since the beginning of the month, two lunch boxes had gone missing in the bowels of the school. One had been located after a week, but Felix had dumped it as nonrecyclable hazardous waste.
The cars lined up behind the Mini now snaked out onto the road, which meant he had become that parent, the one responsible for holding up the carpool line. Throwing the passenger door open, he waved Harry in.
“Hey.” Harry, breathless and flushed, grimaced and blinked, grimaced and blinked.
“You haven’t forgotten our arrangement, have you?” Felix didn’t mean to say arrangement. Too formal, too stiff. Too un-Harry-ish.
“’Course not.” Harry’s shoulder and head twitched. “We can eat first, right? Starving.” He tugged out his phone, pulled it close, and grinned like the village idiot.
“Something funny?”