yup
He sent her a sticker of an animated smiley face. His favorite one. The one that bounced up and down and looked psychotic. Made him smile. Nothing else made him smile right now. Except for Sammie. And Max. Harry picked up his phone, sent Max a text.
hey maxi-pad dad hates me
Mom hates me. Parent swap?
Harry cracked up. Went back to his Facebook page.
please? He added a row of hearts. i can give you the full update on life with attila the dad & we can be homework buddies
Your dad isn’t that bad, Harry. He’s just being a dad.
your dad isn’t a jerk
My dad’s terminally ill, Harry.
sorry that was thoughtless
He couldn’t get anything right today.
Don’t worry about it.
so can I come over
This time he picked the robot sticker with lots of hearts.
Let me ask Mom.
Harry flopped back onto his pillows. Never thought that simple phrase, that one short sentence, “Let me ask Mom,” could be so loaded, so precious. He would give anything in the world to be able to ask his mom.
Felix splashed cold water onto his face, pulled back, and stared into the powder room mirror; Pater’s face stared back. As he aged, he looked more and more like the monster from his own childhood. And now the transformation was complete. For a moment back there, he had seen nothing but anger—a hot, seething mass that could destroy anything in its path. Felix slugged his second glass of Macallan, then carefully placed the tumbler down next to the sink. He flipped over his right hand and examined his broken lifeline, which disappeared as it snaked around his wrist. Tom had always joked, “Either you’ll end up living two lives, or you’re going to develop a split personality and become a serial killer.”
His whole arm began to shake. For a moment, he’d wanted to hurt Harry. God help him, he had wanted to hit his own son.
Genetics will out.
A tornado of noise whooshed down the hall and stopped outside the powder room door. Harry knocked quietly. A timid knock, a scared knock, one that said, I don’t want to wake the monster.
“Dad? Dad, are you in there?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to do my homework at Sammie’s.” Harry paused and then words rushed out. “I need to calm down and regroup and might be better for both of us if I go out for a while.”
Felix put his hand on the doorknob. As he turned it slowly, the doorbell chimed. “Wait. It’s a weeknight. You are not going out on a weeknight.”
Harry grabbed his backpack. “We study well together. She helps me focus. Sammie’s mom is here. She wants to say hi.”
Felix glanced back at the mirror. Did he have a choice? He swallowed hard and walked into the hall.
Sammie bounced through the door and threw her arms around Harry’s neck. Her mother followed, and Felix blanked on her name. Something beginning with . . . ? Gray and lifeless with pouches of loose skin under her eyes, she looked almost as wasted as Ella.
“Hi, Harry,” Sammie’s mother said. “Do you mind if we stop and pick up a pizza on the way home?”
“That sounds great, Mrs. Owen. You’ll be okay, Dad? For dinner?”
Felix nodded. He’d planned to cook for them tonight, make a cottage pie using the recipe Mother had dictated over the phone. Maybe he’d skip food and have a liquid dinner.
“Felix, good to see you again. How’s Ella?”
“She’s fine, thank you.” Felix kneaded his shoulder. The muscles, tight with tension, crunched under his fingertips. “How’s your husband?”
“He’s doing well, thank you for asking. The tumors aren’t getting any bigger. Always a good sign,” she said. “Would you like Harry home by a certain time?”
Felix almost said, Keep him. “Since it’s a school night, nine thirty. We have a ten o’clock curfew.”