The Ones We Choose

by Julie Clark

  He looks at the picture of Mara, then back at me. “What would I have to do?”

  “Pretty much what you’re already doing. Blood draws, home visits. You’ll even keep working with Jenna, who’s going to spearhead it.”

  “Can I think about it and get back to you?”

  “Of course.”

  Just then, Sophie yells hysterically from the kitchen. “Dad! Come quick!”

  Scott jumps, his body on alert. “What is it, Soph?” he calls.

  “I spilled.”

  He relaxes and stands. “This will only take a minute.”

  “No worries. We’re all done here,” I tell him, packing up my things. “I can let myself out. It was good to see you.”

  “You too. Thanks for talking with me. It helps.”

  I smile. “I’m glad.”

  I linger by the door, listening to Scott and Sophie in the kitchen behind me, and when Sophie lets out a deep belly laugh, my final traces of worry dissipate. Sophie and Scott will be fine.

  —

  Jackie calls me a few days later. “What are you doing for lunch?”

  “The usual. An apple and a bagel while I read reports.”

  “I’m bringing you lunch then,” she says. “I need to get out of this house for a little while.”

  I look out the window toward the quad, recent sunshine and warmer temperatures making the idea appealing. “Okay. Can you come around one o’clock? I need to wrap a few things up.”

  “No problem.”

  We meet in a sunny corner within sight of my office window and settle on a bench shoulder to shoulder. She unpacks two large bags of food—fries, soda, and hamburgers from In-N-Out—and my mouth begins to water. She catches me looking at her and says, “What, did you think I was going to bring you a salad?”

  I take a bite of my burger and close my eyes, focusing on the warmth of the sun on my shoulders. As always, the shadow of my secret sits between us. But I don’t want to worry about what might happen, or could happen, or will happen. I just want to enjoy a sunny afternoon eating a hamburger with my best friend.

  “Hey, Dr. Robson.” Rebecca, from my Bio 101 class last fall, approaches us. I haven’t seen her since last semester.

  “Rebecca. How are you?”

  She stands in front of us, squinting into the sun. “Good,” she says. “I wanted to tell you I took your advice. I sent off for one of those DNA tests and got it back. No major genetic mutations, though I need to be careful about high blood pressure.”

  I smile. “You and everyone else in the world.”

  “And no biological relative hits. Yet,” she adds. “Anyhow, I wanted to tell you that your class was my favorite last semester.”

  I smile and take a sip of my Coke. “Thanks. It’s always nice to hear that.”

  “Seriously,” she says, shifting her backpack to her other shoulder. “You made science seem real. Relevant to what’s happening now. I’ve got Dr. Rivas this semester for organic chemistry, and it’s everything I can do not to fall asleep.”

  “Organic chemistry will do that. Be careful though. I hear Dr. Rivas is famous for pop quizzes.”

  “We’ve already had three,” she says. “I wish you taught more than just Bio 101.”

  Jackie follows our conversation, a smile curling the edges of her mouth.

  “Anyway. Thanks. See you around.”

  “Stick with the science, Rebecca,” I call after her. “I’d love to see you in my lab someday.”

  Rebecca turns and grins. “I’d love that too.”

  When Rebecca’s gone, Jackie says, “That was nice.”

  I take another bite of my burger. “She’s a great kid. That’s why I love teaching. You’ve got a captive audience who think they have to laugh at your jokes in order to get an A.”

  Jackie shakes her head. “No. That’s not a student sucking up. That’s someone whose life was changed by you.”

  I squint across the quad. “I taught her biology. I doubt that was life-changing.”

  Jackie rummages in her bag for some napkins and hands me one. “I’m not saying the biology was life-changing,” she says. “I’m saying you were. You have a way with people. You inspire me to want more from my own life, to seek something that’s just for me, separate from being a mother and a wife.”

  She takes a sip of her soda and puts the cup on the bench next to her. Two of my grad students wander by, and one of them says, “Hey, Dr. Robson, good to see you know how to find your way out of the lab.”

  I wave, acknowledging that maybe I don’t get out very much.

  Jackie looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “See?”

  I’ve always focused on my research. That’s where I’ve put the bulk of my energy—and, to be honest, my ego. The teaching is fun, but it’s not something I spend a lot of time thinking about.

  I must look like I don’t believe her, because she continues, “I don’t know why you paint yourself as this closed-off, unforgiving person.”

  I shrug. “Because I am. I lost Liam because of it. I’ve always been that way.”

  Jackie shakes her head and stares across the quad. “I don’t agree, and I don’t think your students would either. You lost Liam because you were afraid.” She looks at me. “That’s not a personality flaw. That’s just being human.”

  “How do I stop then?” I ask.

  Jackie tucks a flyaway piece of hair behind her ear and eats a french fry. “I don’t know,” she says.

  I laugh. “Thanks a lot. You’re so helpful.”

  She smiles. “At some point, you’ll get tired of running,” she says. “I just want you to see that you’re worth it. You’re funny and warm and generous. It’s obvious to me why Liam loved you. I think it’s likely he still does.”

  Once again, Jackie has shined a light into my life, showing me a better version of myself. One I never really saw, until she came along.

  She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Finish your lunch, Dr. Robson.”

  THE SCIENCE OF FRIENDS

  * * *

  Neuroscientist Moran Cerf of Northwestern University has found scientific evidence to prove that long-term happiness depends on who you’re friends with. He says that when two people are together, their brain waves will sync, becoming nearly identical. “The more we study engagement, we see time and again that just being next to certain people aligns your brain with them. This means the people you hang out with actually have an impact on your engagement with reality, beyond what you can explain. And one of the effects is you become alike.”

  Cerf concludes that if you want to lead a happy life, you should surround yourself with people who have traits you’d like to have yourself. Over time, you will begin to absorb them and exhibit them on your own.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Thanks so much for picking up Nick,” Jackie says. I’m maneuvering through traffic, trying to hear her voice through my earpiece while the boys argue in the back seat.

  “Be quiet, you guys. I can’t hear.” To Jackie I say, “No problem. We can stay as long as you need us to.”

  “Just until Beverly gets there. She shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes behind you.”

  “Okay.” I try to keep my tone light. Remembering how Beverly stared at Miles at the funeral, I’d prefer to keep my distance from her.

  “I’ve got to go,” Jackie says. “They’re calling me in.” This is the third interview Jackie’s been on in as many weeks, all of them for small marketing positions she’s overqualified for. She doesn’t need the money—Aaron’s life insurance will more than take care of them—but she needs something to keep her mind occupied when Nick is in school. I’m going crazy, spending my days wandering around the house, half expecting my dead husband to call or walk through the door.

  “Good luck.”

  I glance in the rearview mirror at the boys. “Ms. Denny emailed earlier today about the science fair project due in a couple of weeks. We’d better get started on it
tonight, Miles, or we won’t have enough time.” Normally we spend at least a month on it, and I’m embarrassed I’ve let the project go this long. The scientist’s son will be the only one with a cookie-cutter project this year.

  “It’s almost done already,” Miles says.

  “What? How?”

  “Liam and I have been working on it at Aunt Rose’s for like a month.”

  “Great,” I say, trying to keep the shock and hurt out of my voice. “What’s it about?”

  “We built a solar-powered heat lamp that can be used for an indoor garden.”

  I nearly crash into the car in front of me and slam on the brakes. “You what?”

  “We built a solar-powered—” He starts again, but I cut him off.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” What I’ve wanted to happen for so long—for the two of them to be friends—has been happening without my knowledge, and it cuts through me, this idea that maybe I was the problem. Not Liam. Not Miles. But me.

  Nick’s eyes shift between us. A horn honks, and I face forward again, accelerating through the last intersection before turning onto Nick’s street.

  “Are you mad?” Miles asks in a small voice.

  “Of course not,” I say. “I’m glad Liam’s been helping you. I’m just sorry I haven’t asked about it before now.” I smile, as if to prove it.

  —

  When we get to Jackie’s, I let us in with the key Jackie told me was hidden under the flowerpot next to the porch rail. The house is quiet, and the boys head to Nick’s room.

  “Don’t get too busy with something,” I call after them. “We’re leaving as soon as Nick’s grandma gets here.”

  I slide the key back under the pot and close the front door, unsure what to do with myself. I glance down the hall, tempted to peek into Aaron’s study again, to see if I can find anything in the short amount of time I’ve got.

  Just as I’m weighing the pros against the risk of being caught—by Beverly, no less—my phone rings. It’s Rose.

  “Thank God,” I say. “You just saved me from myself.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says “What’s going on?”

  I fill her in on where I am and what I was about to do.

  “Jesus, Paige. You need to get out of there.”

  I wander back toward the kitchen so the boys don’t overhear me. “Beverly will be here soon.”

  “Beverly?” Her voice carries through the phone, so loud I have to hold it away from my ear.

  “Shh,” I say. I step into the powder room—the same one I found Aaron’s blood-soaked towel in not so long ago, though it feels like an eternity. I close the door most of the way, leaving it open a crack so I can hear the boys.

  “Look,” she says. “I get why you stuck with Jackie after Aaron died. You’re a good friend. But the longer you let this go on, the bigger the consequences. Enough already. You need to back away.”

  I lean against the counter, my back toward the mirror. “We’ve been over this, Rose, and I don’t think you’re wrong. But Aaron was Miles’s father. The boys are brothers. And while Miles may not know that outright, he knows it on a subconscious level. He needs them, so I’m going to have to risk it.”

  Behind me, the bathroom door swings open, and Beverly stands there, her face a mask of shock and accusation.

  I feel my legs go weak. “I need to go,” I manage to say, and hang up the phone.

  We stand there, staring at each other, until Beverly says, “I think you’d better explain yourself.”

  I start to slip past her, but she stops me, her hand strong and forceful, holding me in place. I gesture toward the living room. “Maybe we should sit.”

  “No,” she says. “You can tell me right here. And then you’ll leave this house and never return.” Her voice is like steel, and I falter.

  “It’s not what you think,” I start, but the rage on her face pulls me up short. “Please,” I say. “I’ll tell you everything, and if you still want us to leave, we will.”

  Beverly nods once and steps aside so I can exit the bathroom. She follows me down the hall, and we settle in the living room. I twist my hands in my lap, feeling sick to my stomach and unsure where to start.

  “You said Aaron was your son’s father,” she says. “I’d like to know how that’s possible. He was a good man who loved his wife and son.”

  “He was,” I say. “He did. He didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

  And then I tell her, starting with my desire for a child and all I’d hoped to give him. And how that wasn’t enough, until Aaron and Nick came along. As I talk, Beverly’s expression begins to soften. Several times, she glances down the hall, where we can hear the low murmur of the boys’ voices and an occasional laugh.

  “Did Aaron know who you were?”

  I think about that afternoon on the porch, of the rage that pushed me to tell Aaron, the words flying out of my mouth with no concern for anything other than punishing him with the truth.

  “He did.”

  “What proof do you have?” she asks. “Did you run a paternity test?”

  I think about the DNA test, but I’m unwilling to admit that to Beverly. Not when she’s still so angry at me. “Aaron knew it was true,” I tell her. “If you don’t believe me, I can show you the baby picture that came with his donor profile. But I know you see the resemblance. I saw how you looked at Miles at the funeral.”

  Beverly’s eyes dart toward the hallway and back again, so I continue, “I didn’t go looking for him, if that’s what you think. And I don’t want anything . . . I signed something at the clinic. You don’t have to worry about me coming after their money. I only want Miles and Nick to know each other. To know you, Leonard, and Jackie. I would never do anything to hurt her, or Nick. I have more to lose than gain if it were to come out.”

  Beverly stares out the window. “Does Miles know?”

  “No.”

  She nods, as if this confirms something, but her face is unreadable. I imagine the death of your only child will do that to you. Leech out every ounce of feeling you have, leaving only a gaping emptiness behind.

  “At the funeral,” she says, her voice just barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t stop looking at your son’s eyes. At their shape, and the tilt of his head. That funny piece of hair that sticks out over his ear. Aaron had the exact same one. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, that I was losing my mind.”

  I take a deep breath and look up at the portrait of Aaron, Jackie, and Nick that hangs over the fireplace, the three of them smiling and happy, no clue what tragedy lay ahead, and ask Beverly the question I haven’t been able to ask Jackie: “On the day Aaron died, was Jackie able to request a genetic test for Huntington’s?”

  Beverly shakes her head, her shoulders slumping. “She didn’t. It didn’t occur to any of us.”

  I let out a long, slow exhale. It’s what I suspected all along. “Of course it didn’t.”

  We sit in silence for a few minutes, lost in the memory of Aaron’s last day. “You must be terrified,” she says, and our eyes meet across the room.

  “I am,” I say.

  Just then, Miles comes into the room. “Can we stay during Nick’s piano lesson so I can keep working on the robot? Nick says it’s only a half an hour. It’ll take me at least that long to build the base.”

  He stands just a couple of feet away from Beverly, and her hand reaches out, as if to smooth his hair, but then lowers to his shoulder, where she pulls an invisible piece of lint off his shirt.

  He turns to her and smiles. “Hi,” he says. “You’re Nick’s grandma, right?”

  Beverly nods, unable to tear her eyes from his face, and it’s everything I can do to hold myself together. “We need to go,” I say to him.

  I start to stand, but Miles slips away, calling over his shoulder, “Okay, just five more minutes.”

  I sink back down, looking at my hands and giving Beverly a chance to compose herself. “You can ge
t to know Miles if you want,” I tell her.

  Beverly’s eyes drop to her lap. “As much as I’d like that, it’s probably not the best idea.” She looks up at me, her eyes distant. “I wonder if it’s wise to let the boys be as close as they are.”

  “Please don’t suggest that,” I say.

  “I have to protect Jackie and Nick,” she says. But her words are flat. “I know you don’t want to hurt Jackie, but you can’t possibly think she won’t find out. Miles looks exactly like Aaron. If she doesn’t recognize it now, she will as he gets older.”

  “The boys need each other. They’re best friends.” They’re brothers.

  Beverly closes her eyes, as if she’s fighting an internal battle. When she opens them again, she says, “I know your friendship means a lot to Jackie, but if she were to discover the truth, it would destroy her and taint any memories she has of my son. Aaron decided not to tell her, and we have to respect that.”

  “What didn’t Aaron tell me?”

  Our heads snap around. Jackie is standing in the doorway, the piano teacher hovering behind her.

  Beverly and I glance at each other, horror mirrored on our faces.

  “Nick,” Jackie calls over her shoulder. “Mrs. Snyder is here.”

  She stands in the entryway, her eyes darting between me and Beverly.

  Beverly looks at me, wide-eyed.

  “Paige,” Jackie says. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Nick passes behind her on his way to the back of the house, and soon the sound of melodic scales fills the air.

  “Mom?” Miles appears in the doorway next to Jackie. “I thought you said we were leaving.”

  My throat closes up, and I swallow hard. “You said you wanted to work on that robot base. Give us five minutes.”

  After he’s gone, Jackie says, “You guys are scaring me.” She’s still standing in the entryway, her coat on, purse gripped tightly in her hand. “What’s going on?”