Look the Part

by Jewel E. Ann

  I nod.

  He takes a seat across from me, eyeing the glass. “Jameson?”

  “Monkey Shoulder.”

  “How appropriate.” He chuckles. “It’s been a week. Aria gets to go home in two days. She’s gaining weight and maintaining body temperature.”

  I nod.

  “Have you held your daughter yet?”

  Swallowing hard, I shake my head.

  “I have. She’s a little miracle.”

  My jaw clenches. I know she’s a miracle. I know what time she usually wakes during the night. I know how long she nurses from Elle and that she prefers the right breast over the left.

  “This is your life, Flint. Get in the game or quit, but don’t sit on the bench watching everyone around you live your dream.”

  When I don’t look at him or acknowledge him in any way, he stands and rests his finger on the rim of the whisky tumbler. “I don’t have to ask if you’ve taken a drink. I know the man you are today.”

  He tips the tumbler on its side, sending the gold liquid spilling off the opposite end of the table. “And Harrison knows about Heidi. Ellen told him.” He hands me a folded piece of paper. “She asked me to give this to you.”

  I stare at it for a few seconds before taking it. Dad turns and walks out the door.

  I always loved music. My piano teacher was my mentor. She lived two blocks away from us, a retired professor from Juilliard. I was her only student. She taught me because my dad made suits for her husband. Her name was Ethyl—the name you said we would NOT name our daughter. (I forgive you.) My junior year of high school she was hit by a drunk driver. She spent three months in the ICU. They said she’d never walk again.

  My mom took me to visit her at the hospital every week. One of her therapists was a music therapist. I’d never heard of such a profession. Over the following eighteen months, I witnessed a miracle. Ethyl surpassed every goal the doctors said she would never achieve.

  She walked again. Talked again. And played the piano again. Every therapist played a role in her recovery, but Ethyl said music healed her. That’s when I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

  BUT … are you ready for the good part? Because there’s always a good part. Of everything Ethyl accomplished in her life, by far the greatest, most admirable thing she ever did was forgive the man who drove the car that almost ended her life.

  Heaven and Earth, Flint …

  I’m going to love you so hard, time won’t matter. Distance won’t matter. All you’ll feel when you take each breath … is my love.

  Elle

  *

  I CHECK OUT of my hotel room and go to the hospital just before midnight. Ellen should be feeding Aria soon. I can’t hear her, but I know she’s humming to our daughter. I just know.

  “Feeling better, Mr. Hopkins?”

  I turn toward the same nurse I’ve seen off and on for the past week. “I think so.”

  “Good to hear.”

  I stand in my spot for almost forty-five minutes, failing to find the courage to go inside. And as if she knows, Ellen straightens her back and twists her body to glance over her shoulder at me.

  A second chance has never looked so beautiful.

  I wash my hands and put on a gown, keeping my eyes on her the whole time. The automatic door slides open. She smiles as tears race down her face. I stop in front of her, aching to touch her, aching to touch my daughter.

  “I want this life too,” I whisper.

  Elle blinks out more tears, her smile reaching the corners of her eyes. “I think it’s going to be a good one.” She eases to her feet. “Sit down, Daddy.”

  I sit in the rocking chair; it’s warm from her body.

  “Meet the girl who’s going to bring you to your knees.”

  I grin as Elle hands Aria to me.

  God … she’s so perfect. And so is our daughter.

  *

  WHEN ELLEN WAKES a little before seven in the morning to feed Aria again, I slip out and go home to take care of unfinished business.

  My dad greets me, shuffling from the coffee pot to the kitchen table. “Getting in the game?”

  I shut the door and set my bag down. “If coach will still let me play.”

  He nods toward the stairs. “Coach is upstairs feeding his rats breakfast.”

  I nod, making my way to the stairs.

  “Son?”

  “Yeah?” I look back at my dad.

  “Do you realize you have eight rats living with you?”

  I chuckle. “I haven’t counted them recently, but that sounds about right.” I take one step at a time, preparing myself for the unexpected. “Hey …” I step inside Harrison’s room and shut the door behind me, leaning back against it with my hands shoved into the front pockets of my jeans.

  “Hey,” he says without looking up at me.

  “How’s the rat pack?”

  “You just call them that because you don’t care enough to memorize their names,” he murmurs.

  “Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Johann Sebastian Bach, Ludwig Van Beethoven, Frédérick Chopin, Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, aka Lady Gaga, and your three guitarists—Jimi Hendrix, John Frusciante, and Carlos Santana.”

  “Lucky guess.”

  I grin. “Probably.”

  “You want to know what you can do to make it okay that you killed my mom. Don’t you?”

  I flinch. Here comes a shitload of the unexpected. I brace for impact but speak my peace first. There are a few things he needs to know. “Nothing can make it okay. Not a million ‘I’m sorry’s,’ not all the money in the world, or all the cookies from your favorite bakery.”

  “I’m ready for an electric guitar. A new one. The nicest one money can buy.”

  “Harrison, I just said—”

  “What?” he says with an edge while ushering the rats back into their cage and shutting the door. “A new guitar is too much to give me in exchange for me forgiving you?” Pushing to standing, he kicks at a pile of dirty clothes on the floor, crosses his arms over his chest, and paces in front of the window.

  “I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I just want you to know that I’m truly sorry, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish it would have been me who died in that accident.”

  “Fine. Great. Whatever.”

  “Harrison—”

  “If you’re not going to buy me the fucking guitar, then get out of here!”

  “Harrison, that’s enough.”

  “What? You can kill someone, but I can’t say fuck?” He balls his hands, arms shaking. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUUUCK!”

  I draw in a controlled breath. “I’ll give you some time alone.”

  “Great. More time alone. Maybe we watch more videos with my mom in them. Maybe you give me more framed pictures of her.” He picks up the photo next to his bed, the one where Heidi’s crossing the finish line, and he heaves it at me, missing me by a good three feet. It shatters against the wall. “Then what? All this fucking time spent in the past like you’re so fucking worried I’m going to fucking forget her! Newsflash! I DON’T FUCKING REMEMBER HER!” He pulls at his hair. When he opens his eyes, they’re red and filled with tears.

  I don’t remember the last time I saw Harrison cry. And when I blink, releasing my own emotions, I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing about me.

  He falls to his knees, still fisting his hair as his voice shatters like the glass frame. “I d-don’t remember h-her.” He sobs.

  I step over the mess on the floor to get to the other side of the bed. Hunching down in front of him, I pull him into me, falling backward under the weight of him when he surrenders. And for the next few minutes, I hold my child, gently rocking him, feeling his pain and bleeding more of my own.

  He doesn’t know how to forgive me for taking something—someone—that doesn’t exist in his mind. I get it. I finally fucking get it.

  *

  “THINGS GOT A little loud.” My dad cringes as I walk into the
kitchen.

  “Flint.” My mom hugs me. It’s the first time she’s seen me since they arrived last week. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She gets me a coffee, and I sit at the table with them.

  “The boy likes the word fuck.” My dad eyes me, sipping his coffee.

  “And he uses it with surprising accuracy.”

  “You two are terrible.” My mom shakes her head.

  I rub my hand down my face, blowing out a long breath. “I have to find some humor in this situation before it kills both of us.”

  “He doesn’t remember Heidi.” Mom frowns.

  “No. He doesn’t. I always just assumed. Hell, I think Sandy always assumed.”

  “I think he should talk to someone. Maybe a psychiatrist.” Mom says.

  I nod. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe you should too.”

  I grunt. “Probably.”

  “What’s he doing now?”

  “Playing his guitar. He doesn’t want to talk anymore. And if Elle were here, she’d tell us to leave him be. So …”

  “Leave him be,” my parents say in unison.

  “Where’s Jon?”

  “Breakfast with Martin, and then they were going by the hospital,” Dad says.

  “I need to get back there.” I stand, taking my coffee mug to the sink.

  Dad clears his throat. “The woman, the feisty redhead?”

  I grin with my back to him. “What about her?”

  “I know she’s just a seven, but you’re not getting any younger. Maybe think about asking her if she’d like to take your last name.”

  I chuckle while nodding.

  *

  2 days later …

  “WHERE’S MY DAD and your parents?” Ellen asks when Harrison and I walk into the NICU carrying Aria’s car seat.

  After his breakdown, we didn’t say anymore. I followed his lead of pretending it never happened. He knows my secret and I know his. I can’t bring Heidi back to life, and Harrison can’t find his memories of her. So … we let her rest in peace.

  “They thought it should just be the three of us bringing her home.” I kiss Ellen and then Aria on her warm, fuzzy peach head.

  “Home.” Elle sighs and smiles. “That sounds amazing.” She puts Aria in her seat.

  “She looks too small for it.” Harrison frowns.

  “She is a little peanut,” Elle says in her mommy voice.

  I carry Aria in her seat to the car parked at the entrance while Elle and Harrison walk in front of us.

  Elle hums.

  Harrison shakes his head.

  She nudges his arm.

  He shakes his head some more.

  She wraps her arm around his shoulders.

  He doesn’t fight her.

  She kisses the side of his head.

  I fall deeper in love with her.

  She whispers “I love you” to him.

  He mumbles, “Love you too.”

  And for the first time in a decade, I know we’re going to be okay.

  “I’ll sit in back with her,” Elle says to Harrison after I latch Aria’s seat into the base.

  “No. I want to sit in back with her.”

  Elle’s head jerks back a bit as a smile climbs up her face. “You want to, huh?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah … whatever. It’s fine.”

  “Okay.”

  I close the door after Harrison gets in next to Aria, and I open the door for Ellen. “Let’s go home.” Before she gets in, I pull her into my arms, cupping the back of her head while I press my lips to her forehead.

  “I love you, Flint Hopkins,” she whispers.

  I nod, keeping my lips pressed to her head, too choked with emotion to say anything.

  After we get buckled up, I take my whole fucking world home.

  Sober.

  Two hands on the wheel.

  Driving like an old lady.

  “When are you going to give her the ring?” Harrison asks.

  “Give who a ring?” Elle asks.

  “You,” Harrison says.

  “What ring?” She looks over at me.

  I keep both eyes on the road.

  “The diamond one he stuck in his pocket before he left home.”

  “Little shit,” I mumble.

  “Diamond ring, huh? How many carats? Seven?”

  I ignore her. I ignore both of them.

  Several minutes later, Mr. Delayed Response says, “Ha! That was funny. Seven. She said that because you called her a seven. Seventy percent. You gave Elle a D. Remember that?”

  Elle covers her mouth to contain her laughter.

  “I remember. Thanks, Harrison.”

  “Just ask her.”

  Ellen rests her hand behind my head, tickling the nape of my neck. “Just ask me.”

  “Fine. Will you marry me?”

  “What do you think, Harry? Should I say yes?”

  I roll my eyes. They’re making a mockery out of my proposal.

  “Yeah. I think he spent a lot of money on the ring. It’s pretty big.”

  Elle shrugs. “Okay. I’ll marry you.”

  I try to keep from grinning, but it’s a futile attempt.

  A couple blocks from our house, Harry leans closer to Aria’s seat and he hums “You Are My Sunshine.”

  “He likes that song,” Ellen whispers. “Did you used to sing it to him when he was younger?”

  I shake my head. Making a quick glance in the review mirror, I meet Harrison’s gaze.

  Heidi’s eyes. Heidi’s nose. Heidi’s smile.

  He remembers the song she sang to him. He remembers her even if he doesn’t realize it.

  I love him beyond words.

  EPILOGUE

  Flint

  Five years—Dozens of Cookies—A New Baby Brother—And Thirteen Rats Later …

  “I SHOULD HAVE brought Harrison here by myself.” I sigh, carrying my sleeping five-year-old across campus, messy red hair tangled around my neck like a scarf. I’m sweating. She’s dead weight and way too much body heat for August.

  “This is a big deal. We all want to be here.” Elle walks with an exaggerated bounce to her step as nine-month-old Isaac starts to fuss.

  He wants out to crawl around. It’s been a long trip. All of our trips are long since we drive everywhere. I’ve not given up hope of getting her on a plane without having to knock her out with my concoctions.

  One day soon. I hope.

  “You don’t have to go up with me,” Harrison says as we approach the entrance.

  Of course. We drove twenty-one hours to walk this far in the heat for a simple “Goodbye, see you at Thanksgiving.”

  “Call often. Study hard. Find a nice girl, but not until your senior year. And remember you are here to learn, but along the way lots of students will learn from you too. Be kind. Be gracious. Be happy.” Elle hugs Harrison.

  He hugs her back without hesitation. “Bye, buddy.” He hugs Isaac too.

  “Call every couple of weeks. Study harder than you think you need to. I’m not paying for you to fail. Find a nice girl to take your virginity so you can focus on your studies instead of your blue balls. Remember you are here to succeed and other students will feel threatened by you. Ignore them. Be strong. Be cool. Be responsible and wear a condom.” I hug Harrison as he rolls his eyes.

  “Harry …” Aria wakes, rubbing her eyes.

  “Hey, Sunshine.” He takes her from me.

  Thank God!

  “I’ll miss you. But stay out of my room.”

  She nods, looking at him like he’s her idol. “Bye.” She puckers her lips.

  He wrinkles his nose and goes to kiss her on the cheek. And like always, she finds a way to land her puckered lips on his. Harrison wipes it off.

  She giggles.

  He sets her down and hikes his bag and guitar over his shoulder.

  “The rest of your stuff should arrive this afternoon,” I say. “And don’t forget to call
Grandma Sandy. She’ll want to know you’re settled into your dorm.”

  He nods. “Bye.”

  As soon as he turns, a lady with a name tag hanging from a lanyard smiles at him. “Welcome to Juilliard. Can I help you find where you’re going?”

  *

  WE GRAB LUNCH and finish our four hour drive—which takes us five—to Cape Cod.

  “Boat! Papa! I want to ride the boat.” Aria jumps out and runs toward Jon as he makes his way up the hill from the dock.

  He opens his arms, always smitten with his favorite granddaughter. The only person she has wrapped around her little finger tighter than me is him.

  “Two weeks.” Elle grins, nuzzling her nose into Isaac’s chubby neck. “Two whole weeks in Cape Cod. Mama’s gonna get a massage and pedicure. Yay me!”

  I glance over my shoulder to make sure Jon and Aria are still out of earshot. “Daddy’s going to get laid. A lot. While Papa and his younger girlfriend take Aria and Issac to the beach. Yay me!”

  Ellen gives me her best hairy eyeball.

  “It’s hot out. Let’s go inside. Cora made lemonade and iced tea.”

  “How is Cora?” Ellen asks without trying to sound catty.

  When she hired Cora to do some light house work for Jon after both of his parents passed away, she didn’t expect Cora to keep his bed warm as well—especially since she’s only five years older than Ellen.

  “Oh, she’s good. Keeps me young.”

  Ellen frowns at me as we follow him into the house.

  “And you say I frown. Be happy for him.”

  “You’re such a guy.”

  I am. Cora’s a little too fake for my taste. And by fake, I mean her perky double D tits. But if Jon has a heart attack and dies with his face nestled between them, we’ll have to believe he died a happy man.

  “Elle! Flint!” Cora bounces those big boobs in our direction.

  Elle hugs Isaac to her to avoid the full-on boob hug. Then she quickly passes him to me before Cora hugs me.

  Well played, dear.

  Elle smirks.

  “Hand him over.” Cora takes Isaac from me and snatches the diaper bag from Elle’s shoulder. “I’ll give him a diaper change and find a healthy snack for Aria. You two head upstairs and get settled in. Enjoy a little alone time before dinner.” She winks.