Pack Up the Moon

by Kristan Higgins

  “It will be.” His father studied his face. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want from me? I would do anything to at least try to make it up to you. To start, at any rate. This has been such a shock, but I’m so glad to see you. I truly am.”

  Josh inhaled slowly. “Thanks. I just wanted to meet you. I wondered what you looked like. I wanted to know what kind of person you are.” He paused. “My wife thought I should. She thought it would be good for me. I think she was right.”

  His father’s face spasmed, but he got it under control. “Okay. But if you want, just reach out . . . you know, for anything. Anything at all. If you change your mind, if you’re ever in Chicago, we could—”

  “Right now, the answer is no. But thanks.”

  “Can I give you my card just in case?”

  “Sure.”

  Chris pulled out his wallet, withdrew a card and wrote a phone number on the back. As he did, Josh committed his face to memory.

  If being fatherless had left a mark on Joshua, abandoning a child had left a scar on Christopher M. Zane. He looked older than his years, careworn.

  At least he’d had the grace to admit his wrongdoing without trying to justify it.

  They got up from the table, and Josh could see that his father’s hands were shaking as he tried to zip up his coat. It was oddly touching.

  Chris pulled out his wallet and left a twenty on the bar. “Leaving us so soon?” Tim the bartender said.

  “Yeah. Tim, this is Joshua. Joshua Park.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Josh said.

  “Tim,” Chris blurted. “Would you mind taking our picture? Josh, if that’s okay with you.”

  He hesitated. But his mom would want to see it, he suspected. And if not, well, he would have it, and in some small way, it would be nice to have a picture of him and his father, no matter how unimportant he had been for all these years.

  Lauren would have liked that.

  His father handed over his phone, and Josh did the same. They stood side by side. “Okay, look at me and smile,” Tim said. Josh obeyed, and then he felt his father’s arm around his shoulders. “Next phone, one, two, three, done. How do you like them?” He handed back the phones.

  “Tim . . . this . . . this is my son,” Chris said, and his voice shook.

  It was the first time Josh had ever heard a male voice say those words. His chest felt a strange, not-unpleasant ache.

  Tim’s eyebrows raised. “Wow. Nice to meet you, man.”

  “You too.”

  Josh looked at the phone. There they were, father and son, and standing next to each other. That crooked incisor gave it away.

  “You have . . .” Chris pointed to his own crooked tooth.

  “Yeah.” They looked at each other and smiled, and that ache in Josh’s chest grew.

  It was fully dark now, colder than ever. The streetlights cast puddles of light at regular intervals down the road. “Do you need a ride?” Chris asked.

  “No, thank you,” Josh said. “I’ll walk.”

  “Okay.” His father stood there, an inch or so taller than Josh. “Can I give you a hug?” he asked, and his voice shook.

  “I’m not really the hugging type,” Josh said.

  “Of course. Sorry. I have no right to ask.”

  Don’t be a loser.

  “Ah, fuck it. Why not?” he said, and he hugged his father hard, felt the man jerk with a sob. For a second, they just stood there, arms tight around each other.

  Then Josh let him go. “Take care, Dad,” he said. He smiled, turned and walked down the street, following the path of light.

  28

  Joshua

  Still month ten

  Still the unending month of December

  JOSH WAS IGNORING the holidays this year. They were hard to avoid outside in the real world, so he went out as little as possible, still trying to adjust to the fact that he’d met his father, and trying to ignore Christmas.

  Lauren had been a Christmas zealot. It felt grotesque that the holiday was happening without her.

  Then Jen asked to come over one Saturday afternoon, and Josh said yes instantly. He’d missed her, he realized. The apartment was a mess, even though he’d hired a cleaning lady, a nice woman Asmaa had referred from the Hope Center, but he’d been working a lot, and takeout containers were scattered around. Pebbles was shedding, which didn’t help, so he vacuumed and made the bed. Showered, put on clean clothes, put on coffee and rummaged for cookies or something in his pantry. Ah. Mrs. Kim had brought over those Korean sesame seed cookies, and he seemed to remember that Jen loved them. Yes. He was sure she did.

  He hadn’t seen Jen without Darius or the kids for a long time. They’d been a team when Lauren was sick, the two people who loved her the most.

  He thought for a minute about his half siblings out in Chicago. It was strangely pleasant to know they were there. His mother had looked at the picture, shrugged, and said, “He looks old.” The subject was then closed. And Josh had put his father’s card in the box with Lauren’s letters, a way for him to tell her he’d done it. He didn’t think he’d ever want to see Christopher Zane again, but you never knew.

  The knock came on the door, and Pebbles went wild. She loved everyone, but she greeted Jen with particular joy. Maybe she knew this was as close to Lauren as she could get. Maybe they smelled similar, the two Carlisle sisters.

  “Pebbles! Hello, my baby! Hello! I missed you!”

  Josh waited, accustomed to the dog getting love first. Eventually, Jen straightened. “Hey, how are you?” Jen said. She hugged him. “Good to see you. Oh! I like what you did here! Is this coffee table new?”

  “No. The couch is. You’ve been here since I got it. But the rug is new.” He’d seen it on an auction site Lauren had registered for, and thought it would look nice against the old floors. “Coffee? Cookies? We— I have your favorite. Sumi’s sesame cookies?”

  “Oh, yes! No coffee, please. Got some milk? Soy milk? Almond? I’m easy. Oh, wow, this couch is really comfy. I like it.”

  It was her way of saying she didn’t mind that he’d changed things. He’d moved stuff around, even put some away. The small vase they’d gotten in Hawaii. A bowl of oval, gray stones, all from the beach on the Cape, each one meticulously chosen by Lauren. He couldn’t get rid of them, but he didn’t have to look at them every day.

  Josh plated the cookies, poured himself some coffee and some soy milk for Jen and brought everything to the living room, sitting next to her. “You look good, Jen. How are you doing?”

  “Good,” she said, though her eyes instantly teared. “Horrible. I miss her constantly. It’s like a hole in my chest, and I swear I can feel the wind blowing through it.”

  He covered her hand with his and said nothing.

  “I went to your psychic,” Jen said. She took a cookie and ate it whole.

  “How was it?”

  “It was good. It’s shocking. So get this. I walk in, right, and I don’t know why I’m there except that I miss her . . .” Her voice choked off, and she took a swig of milk. “And immediately, Gertie says, ‘Your sister is showing me a newborn baby. Are you pregnant?’” Jen started to cry. “And I am, Josh. Not even a month, but I am. You’re the first person I’ve told, outside of her and Darius.”

  She turned to him and buried her face against his chest, sobbing, and he put his arms around her. “I’m so happy for you,” he whispered as she bawled. “This is great news.”

  His wife would never know this baby, never hold her, never kiss her, never even have a photo with her. He understood Jen’s tears. His own were seeping into her hair.

  “I hate that life is going on without her,” Jen said wetly. “I hate it.”

  He wanted to agree, because he knew exactly how she felt. He gripped Jen by her shoulders and made her look at him. “This is wonder
ful, and no one would be happier than Lauren. Except maybe me.” He squinted at her. “You know, I’m thinking Josh is a beautiful name. It’s time for me to have a namesake, and I’m totally available as godfather.”

  It wasn’t great patter, no. But he was trying. He could not let Jen feel anything but joy radiating from him. He had to look after her. She was his family.

  “What if it’s a girl?” she said, taking in that shaking breath that meant she was done crying.

  “Josie? Joshilyn? Joss? We can figure something out.”

  She laughed, and Josh’s heart contracted. Lauren would appreciate that. She’d be grateful that he made her sister smile.

  “Jen,” he said, “this thing about me being your brother-in-law, you being my sister-in-law . . .”

  “Yeah?” she asked, frowning. “Don’t tell me you have a crush on me.”

  “Well, of course I do,” he said, though he didn’t and never had, but this was how people connected, he understood, this light flirting and teasing. “But it gets complicated, explaining how we’re linked. Maybe I could . . .” He hesitated. “Maybe I could just call you my sister.”

  Again her eyes filled with tears. “You’re the best, Josh,” she said, grabbing another cookie. “You’re the best. I always wanted a baby brother. I used to dress Lauren up in boy clothes, did you know that?”

  When she left a while later, taking all the cookies at his insistence, he went into his bedroom, looked at the dogwood tree, which was obscenely healthy, and had a good cry.

  * * *

  THANK GOD FOR the internet. Josh ordered gifts for the kids, Jen and Darius (a gift certificate to a really nice restaurant with his own babysitting services thrown in), his mom, Donna, Radley and Sarah. He’d had to go out for coffee the other day, and every damn couple seemed pink-cheeked and healthy and in love, every family filled with the holiday spirit, happiness oozing out of them like radioactive sludge.

  Not that he was bitter.

  God, he was so bitter. A year ago, Lauren had needed to measure out her energy carefully, but they’d still done every Christmas tradition, baked dozens of cookies, listened to Christmas music ad nauseam, put out the reindeer throw pillows and Santa mugs. No one had told him it would be their last Christmas. No one told her.

  He felt like an aging, brittle piece of paper that would disintegrate if touched. He stayed away from people as much as he could. However, he couldn’t avoid Christmas completely.

  He and Radley went to the Eddy—sometime in the fall after Josh’s date with Cammie, they’d started meeting there every Wednesday night. This Wednesday, however, was a mistake—the place was mobbed with Christmasy people, and music, and decorations, and drinks. Josh told Radley about meeting his father, needing almost to yell over the noise, and God, Josh was going to start screaming and stabbing people with the fancy toothpick that speared the cranberry garnish in his drink.

  Focus on someone else, loser, he could imagine Lauren saying. “Do you have plans for the holidays, Rad?” he asked.

  “You mean, besides the retail hell I live and breathe?” He took a sip of his bourbon and waved to someone he knew.

  “Yeah, besides that.”

  “No. I plan to order Chinese food and watch horror movies.”

  Lucky. Josh took a sip of his smoked grapefruit martini. “Why don’t you come to my mom’s house? Christmas Eve. She has a big party. The Swedes love Christmas.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. She’d love it. She’s been dying to meet you.” He hesitated. “And I’d be very . . . grateful to have you there.”

  “I’d love to come. Thank you, Joshua.” Radley’s face was endearingly sincere.

  “I got you a present,” Josh said. “Can I give it to you now? It’ll be crazy at my mom’s.”

  “Of course! I love presents!”

  Josh pulled a box out of his messenger bag. “Sorry I didn’t wrap it,” he said.

  “You have the right to hate Christmas this year, Josh.” He opened the box to reveal a bracelet made of strands of leather clamped together with three steel rings. Each ring had a word stamped in hangul characters.

  “It’s Korean,” Josh explained. “My friend Ben helped me. This says ‘friend,’ this one says ‘kind person,’ and this one says ‘brother.’” He waited, hoping it wasn’t too much.

  Radley stared at him a second, then put his hand over his eyes to hide his tears, and Josh knew he’d done well.

  “I love it so much,” Radley said, putting it on. “My God, Josh, it’s perfect. Are you sure you’re not gay? Seriously, thank you.” His mouth wobbled. “You know, I try to keep my own family out of my head, but holidays are . . . well. They’re hard. And this . . .” He gestured to the bracelet. “This means so much to me. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You’ve been really kind.” He thought back to that night in the Banana Republic dressing room. Radley had been more than kind. He’d been practically a guardian angel. “Besides,” he added, “I always wanted a brother.”

  Radley got up and hugged him, and Josh hugged back, glad for his friend, awkward with the affection. Radley wiped his eyes and sat back down, and Josh was grateful when the conversation turned to Radley’s evil Human Behavior professor. That was one of the best things about Radley, Josh thought as he watched his pal talk with great animation. He carried the conversation 90 percent of the time.

  As they were leaving, Radley said, “Let me just go say hi to that guy over there.” Josh paid the bill, then tried to wind his way through the packed bar to get to the exit. It was deafening in here, and he hated crowds. His anxiety jumped, but he reassured himself that he’d be home soon, on the couch with Pebbles, not a goddamn Christmas ornament in sight.

  He waited behind a server, who was squarely blocking his way. Josh went to her left—nope. Right—nope. He tried to make eye contact with the people at her table, but they stared at her like she was the living Buddha as she answered their questions.

  It was taking a long time. He tried to move past again, but the server apparently had no peripheral vision, because she, too, seemed oblivious to his presence. She was detailing the Eddy’s elaborate drinks. “Um, that one has, uh . . . um . . . butter-washed Wild Turkey, maple, Pierre . . . something, and some . . . chocolate shavings? No, bitters! Chocolate bitters. It sounds gross, but, um, I’ve heard it’s really good.”

  The maître d’ glared at her. It wasn’t a great sell, to be fair. Josh tried once more to get around, but nope, she was completely blind in her left eye, apparently, and the people at her table still would not make eye contact with him. He sighed and stared at the server’s long dark hair, which was pulled into a braid. Cut that off, and he’d have a good strong rope.

  “Okay,” said the waitress, “so you do want the cinnamon in it, but not burnt? Um, I’ll ask. Sure! Okay. But Chopin, and not Grey Goose. Got it. And Chopin is gin? No, no, of course. It’s vodka. Got it. And you want lemon in that? Juice or a twist? Got it.”

  He doubted she did. The patrons were being ridiculously particular, especially given that the restaurant was jammed.

  Finally, she turned and almost bumped right into him. “Sorry, was I in your way? Oh, hey! It’s you! Hi! How are you?”

  It was the woman from the fun run, the one with the ancient dog in a baby stroller, who’d helped him when he passed out. “Hi,” he said. “Right. The race.”

  “Yeah. You fainted! How are you now? I mean, obviously, you lived. But you were okay?”

  “Yes. A little dehydrated, that was it.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” She stood there a minute, smiling at him.

  “You gonna put that drink order in sometime? Like, ever?” said one of the patrons at the table. Christmas tended to bring out the worst in people, Josh observed.

  “Yes! Sorry! I will. Right now.” She smiled again at Josh.

&nbs
p; “How’s Duffy?” he asked, a little shocked that he remembered the dog’s name, then internally winced. The dog had to be dead by now.

  “He’s great! Thank you for asking! The vet gave him these supplements and some steroids. He’s like a new dog. Seriously. It’s like he’s thirteen again.”

  How old was that dog? “Good. Oh, and your brother?” He’d had that condition where his joints popped out. Ehlers-Danlos, that was it.

  “Oh, my gosh, you’re so sweet to remember. He’s good! Thank you.”

  “Well. Happy holidays.”

  “You too! Happy New Year!”

  “Were you talking to a woman?” Radley asked when they were finally out on the sidewalk.

  “Yes. We go to the same vet.”

  “Well, good for you, Joshua,” Radley said. “Hey, it’s snowing! Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  Lauren had loved the snow. She used to stare out the windows in the darkened apartment and watch, sipping cocoa.

  Her memory was everywhere.

  “I’ll see you on Christmas Eve, okay?” he said. “I’ll text you my mom’s address.”

  “Thanks, brother,” Radley said. He held up his wrist. “I’m never taking this off.”

  * * *

  ON CHRISTMAS EVE, Radley arrived at Stephanie’s promptly at five thirty, wearing an appropriately dapper suit for someone who worked in a men’s clothing store. His arms were loaded with packages.

  “It’s so nice to meet you!” Stephanie cried, taking off her apron. She was wearing her Free Mom Hugs T-shirt with a rainbow heart, in case anyone missed the fact that she was very accepting, and hugged Radley tight. “I’m so glad you’re here! Thank you for being my son’s friend! I know he’s a burden.” She sent Josh a smug look that clearly said, I delight in embarrassing you in front of your friends.

  “Wow, Mom,” Josh said, but he smiled. It was all so normal.