The next morning Simon made them an enormous breakfast, including the homemade whole wheat waffles Salima loved, with the diabetic maple syrup. He had given her her own waffle iron for Christmas along with a stack of books in Braille that she wanted to read.
They were just finishing breakfast when Simon’s cell phone rang. He grabbed it from where it was sitting on the counter, and Blaise saw him frown as he answered. She knew instantly it was Megan. He sounded tense when he told her they were eating, and then he paused for a long time as he listened, and as he did, he left the kitchen and stayed on the phone and walked back to his room.
Blaise made idle chitchat with Salima after he left and tried not to sound as distracted as she was. She could tell that whatever Megan was saying, she must have been upset about something, and Simon had looked worried when he left the room.
“Something wrong, Mom?” Salima asked her. She could hear the tension in her mother’s voice, and Blaise didn’t want her to know that she was upset, nor that Simon had been involved with a teacher at school. He didn’t want Salima to know, and Blaise had promised him she wouldn’t tell her. His affair with Megan was a breach of school rules, and he was embarrassed by their situation. Romances among faculty members were frowned on, but inevitably some occurred. But he didn’t want Salima to know he had spent three years with a married woman. He was ashamed.
“No, I’m fine,” Blaise lied to her as they talked about what to do that afternoon. Christmas was always a casual day for them, usually spent in pajamas, watching old movies or football, and Simon had promised to make them his famous turkey hash, from turkey left over from the night before.
It was a full twenty minutes before Simon walked back into the room, and he pretended to be cheerful, and said nothing about the phone call until Blaise was alone with him.
“What happened?” She couldn’t wait to ask him, she was nervous about the call and how long it had been.
“Nothing. She just wanted to wish me a merry Christmas, and she was upset because her middle son broke his arm.” Simon sounded concerned and had already told Blaise he loved her sons. They hadn’t lied to him. She had.
“Did his father hurt him?” Blaise asked, looking worried about a child she didn’t know.
“No, he fell off his new bike,” Simon said, and seemed uncomfortable. Blaise had the distinct impression that he didn’t want to discuss Megan with her.
“Anything else?” She didn’t know why, but she had the feeling there was more, and he took a moment to answer.
“No, it was fine,” he said vaguely, and loaded the dishwasher. Blaise walked over to him and kissed him then. The look on his face reminded her of when Andrew called her. She could see the pain in Simon’s eyes.
“I love you,” she said simply, and put her arms around him.
“I love you too,” he said sadly, and then he kissed her, and she thought she saw tears in his eyes. But he said nothing more about Megan, and they spent the rest of the afternoon reading the paper, relaxing, and watching football on TV, until Simon went to start dinner and produced the promised hash. And he was in better spirits by then, and had recovered from Megan’s call. She was the ghost of Christmas past, or at least Blaise hoped so. The three of them had a good time at dinner. They were still being circumspect around Salima, and didn’t want to shock her. She had no idea that Simon spent every night in her mother’s room, and Blaise didn’t tell her. She didn’t need to know.
When she and Simon went to bed that night, they agreed that it had been a lovely Christmas, their first. She said something about it, and he was quick to correct her.
“The first of many.”
“I hope so,” she said softly. He slept in her arms that night, and all she could hope was that he wasn’t dreaming of Megan.