"And go where? I thought you suggested the continent of Europe should be avoided for a few more years."
"Go to Asia."
"I don’t like them that young."
"This isn’t a joke."
"I’ll tell you what isn’t a joke—how am I supposed to meet with the East Coast clients when I’m halfway around the world."
"I’m sure I can arrange a transfer of clients. They owe me a favor or two."
"Still?"
"Still. I’m more useful than you are destructive."
"Yes, but is anyone as destructive as you are?"
Alex didn’t say anything and Michael didn’t look away. He wanted an answer.
"I’ve tried to make up for my mistakes. I’m trying right now."
"Then your nobility should be rewarded. I think I can make myself scarce for a few weeks."
"It’s going to have to be a longer than that."
"A month? I think that’s pushing it."
"Longer. And if I understood Miranda correctly, the police aren’t the only thing you’ll have to worry about if you stay in Boston."
Michael laughed loudly. "He caught a lucky break. Don’t worry, I can take care of myself next time."
"I’m not so sure." Alex had ice in his voice. "I think it would be best for everyone if you were scarce for a few months."
"Fine." He had no intention of staying away that long. "But it’s going to cost you."
"What do you want?"
"Of course I’ll need an apartment—in Seoul."
"I could get you better accommodations in Bangkok-"
"No, Seoul."
"Fine."
"But while I’m there, I don’t think it’s fair to keep me locked up in such a small country."
"You’ll get a traveling allowance."
"And you know, I’ve been picking up this job so quickly that they’ve been really shoveling new tasks on me. I’m practically managing my little team."
"It’s a two-person team."
"Exactly. And he has the title, and I have all the responsibility. Does that seem fair? I mean, I can see why I can’t have the title, but there’s got to be something we do about the salary."
"I’ll fix the salary if you put the increase into your savings account."
"Half of it."
"Seventy-five percent."
"Sixty."
"Fine. Then the tickets will be waiting for you at the airport in two hours."
Michael wiped his face with his napkin. "Just one more thing, though, before I can agree. I want the house."
Alex froze. "I’m not sure that’s a good idea just yet."
"When is it going to be a better idea?"
"When I don’t have to constantly worry about getting you out of trouble."
"I am coming back eventually, right? So where am I going to stay? I don’t have too many opportunities to stay with Richard when Jessie isn’t there or Aunt Lucy doesn’t make a cameo appearance, and I’m pretty sure your precious Miranda will want me around even less than before. So unless you’re going to get me an entirely new place all my own, doesn’t it make sense to give me the house now, since it is mine?"
Alex looked as if he was trying to form the words, but couldn’t do it. "It’s still my house, isn’t it?" Michael blurted out.
"What? Of course; it’s still your house." Alex said, but didn’t look at Michael. "And yes, I’ll have the house ready for you. In October."
Michael genuinely smiled for the first time in years. "Then I’ll see you in October."
Alex didn’t know that Michael had missed the flight he was scheduled for. It was alright, he hadn’t needed to get another ticket because he had turned on the charm for the ticket agent. He’d missed his flight because he’d wanted to visit Richard before he had to leave. He let himself in with the key Richard couldn’t bear to take away from him. But Richard wasn’t there. Michael let himself into the kitchen to grab a snack, and with the exception of some slightly stale bread, found it empty. He closed the refrigerator and thought hard. Finals, he remembered at last. Richard was finally going to graduate, so maybe he couldn’t cook. He must have gone out to get a bite to eat.
Michael felt lonely thinking about Richard eating dinner right now, most probably with his very nice, very pretty new girlfriend. Richard made Michael feel lonely most of the time. Even Michael couldn’t help but appreciate how much Richard had to bear, and Michael knew he was most of it. It hadn’t always been that way though. He’d had parents once, and though it was a memory that grew less reliable with every passing day, he knew that they had loved him. His mother had been snappy and nervous maybe, but she was always happy to have him with her. And his father...he remembered the smell of his father’s hand on his head or his breath when he hugged him. Usually it was heavy with hard liquor, or at the very least wine. The first time he’d sipped a drink, the smell had reminded Michael of his father.
He remembered, although it seemed incredible to him now, how bad he’d felt for Richard when they were younger, before his parents died, because Michael wasn’t sure how much of Aunt Lucy’s love Richard had gotten. Maybe he imagined it, but he thought that Richard enjoyed his company back then, as if he could experience being a normal child through him.
Sometimes, when Richard forgot to be angry with Michael, when he forgot that he had to take care of Jessie, when he forgot about how much Miranda couldn’t stand him, Michael thought that Richard did, truly, want him around. Maybe it was just the memory of having done so once, but sometimes that was enough for Michael to feel like a real person with a real family and not the boy who lived in Alex Sheldon’s house.
Remembering anything about Alex was usually enough to end any happiness for Michael. When his dad ran away and hid, he hid with Alex. Alex had been his dad’s refuge. Alex, Alex, Alex. And dad would come back even more drunk than before. And his mother would look like she wanted to cry.
But that wasn’t why he hated Alex. It was that very last memory of his father, and one of the last of his mother. It was burned on him. Only one of the adults had noticed what happened, and he knew it too. But it didn’t matter, because his parents were gone forever. And it was Michael’s punishment to bear, Michael who hadn’t done anything except be a child, that he should be with the only other person who survived the ordeal. But there were other punishments that he could dole out, and soon enough he would.
If only...well, he really needed to put that behind him.
Michael realized that he’d walked down to the basement. When Richard’s parents had lived here—although it seemed like Lucy had spent an awful lot of time in her apartment even then—the two boys had played hide and go seek down in the basement. Inevitably, the game had degenerated into a search for the most obscure items. One day they’d happened upon a secret room. With a little bit of lock-picking—Richard had been surprisingly resourceful even then—the boys finally opened the room. They’d found a bunch of old clothes their grandfather had left there. They played dress up, looking in the old, gilded mirror, then flopping down onto some of the old furniture laughing until they cried. It had been their secret place.
Michael found the room again, but to his surprise, it was locked. Now he was curious. It hadn’t been locked in years. He went upstairs and grabbed the tools from Richard’s workroom. In fifteen minutes he had the lock picked open. His plane would be leaving soon, but he didn’t care.
He opened the door, its creaking on its rusty hinges. All that was there now was the couch and the mirror. Michael almost left until he saw a clear piece of plastic sticking out behind the mirror. It was so hard to see in the dim light that he wouldn’t even seen it if the light hadn’t caught it just so as he turned.
He walked behind the mirror and carefully slid the box on the floor. He knelt down and opened it, then gasped when he realized what he was looking at. When had Richard developed that habit?
He picked up the bottles. Ritalin. Roofies. Anti-depressants. Really—all of them? There
were more drug names, but none that he recognized. Then he looked at the names of the patients on the bottles. None were for Richard. And all of them were from different pharmacies. What the Hell was this?
Jammed under a bunch of vials was a little book. He picked it up. It was filled with names and numbers in different handwriting. Sometimes little notes about who liked what. Michael closed the book, baffled. These didn’t belong to a user. They belonged to a dealer. But...Richard wasn’t a dealer, no matter what was in front of him. Who did these belong to?
Michael called a cab and made one stop before he got on his plane. For possibly the first time in his life, he did a good deed for someone.
Or, at least, tried.
~~~
He got off the plane at Logan and went to collect his suitcase. It wasn’t October, but he’d been away long enough.
CHAPTER 6
Miranda nearly jumped out of her seat at breakfast when Alex told her that Michael was back. "You promised!" Keith walked in with a pot of tea, but turned right back around.
"I didn’t know until last night."
"So why didn’t you tell me then?"
"You didn’t get in until after eleven."
"So what? You still should have told me so I could warn my friends."
Alex crashed his fork onto his plate and forced himself to look away. "I told you, they don’t have anything to worry about."
"Until the next time…!" She looked away too, afraid of what else she might say. "Alright, then," she said at last. "So why did the SOB come back already?"
"I don’t know. He didn’t call me. The management company called yesterday afternoon and told me that someone was at the house who claimed to be the owner. I didn’t know. For God’s sake, I even told him that it wasn’t going to be ready until October."
"Was that a lie?"
"It was my understanding that with the exception of running water, it is otherwise uninhabitable."
Miranda smirked involuntarily, thinking about Michael using a sleeping bag. But no, that wouldn’t last more than ten minutes. He’d go to a hotel, or-
"I will leave if he comes back here, and if he goes to Richard’s, you can buy me and Jessie an apartment!"
"Do you think Lucy will let me do that?"
"Please, we both know how persuasive you can be."
Alex ignored that comment. "He won’t come back here, I promise."
"And Richard? I know he’s graduated from college, but don’t you think he’s due a little bit of a break?"
"He isn’t going to bother anyone."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I made a few phone calls today; he’ll have electricity, cable, gas and wireless by six o’clock tonight, and the cleaning service and furniture delivery will be in at ten tomorrow morning."
"God bless a well-placed bribe."
~~~
Emily called Miranda the next day while she and Mitch were out getting groceries. "Is everything okay? You sound a little...preoccupied."
Miranda sighed with relief when she heard Emily giggle at something Mitch said. "It’s nothing. Just some stuff to arrange for classes. Making sure I get all of my requirements in, yada yada."
Emily giggled again. "Honey, stop it! Sorry. Wait, what? Didn’t you say you weren’t taking classes in the summer quarter?"
"Yeah, I’m not, but I still have to..." Emily practically shrieked at Mitch to stop whatever he was doing, and Miranda seized upon the opportunity. "Look, actually, I don’t think I’m going to be able to meet you tonight after all. Alex had a few things he wanted me to do—some party he’s planning next week."
"Gee, that’s too bad," Mitch said, obviously close enough to Emily and her phone to overhear. Miranda laughed herself.
"Yes, it is," Emily said with some annoyance. "Zainab backed out too. What, no one wants to be around the newlyweds?"
"Well, since you’re always in each other’s laps, I guess no one thought you’d mind."
"I do mind, for the record, and you’re going to have to make it up to me later this week."
Miranda smiled even as a tear streaked down her cheek. "Anytime, just not tonight. Look, honey, can I call you back later?"
"Bye!" Mitch said before the phone hung up.
Miranda tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. Why did Zainab back out?
Thirty seconds later she had Zainab on the phone. "I was wondering when you were going to call."
Miranda threw her head back. "Argh! Excuse me for not wanting to be the bearer of bad news—again. But I guess you know a little bit about that, since you didn’t tell Emily either."
Zainab clicked her tongue. "And Richard hasn’t told Jessie. She found a date tonight, thank God, because I don’t know how he was going to tap dance around this."
"Oh please tell me that means that you’re going to Michael’s house tonight?"
"Wouldn’t miss it, even if Richard hadn’t practically begged me."
"Wait, he wants you to come to dinner with us?"
"Wants is too strong a word. I thinks needs is a better one."
Miranda nodded to herself. She wished she had some sane moral support herself, and right now Alex didn’t count. "Just so you know I’ll be happy to break his fingers if he tries to touch you."
"Don’t worry. He’s not going to surprise me."
~~~
Miranda and Zainab were on the bottom stairs of Michael’s house. Richard and Alex were about ten feet away from them, speaking very softly.
"Richard, I swear, I didn’t know until yesterday."
"And you couldn’t call?"
"I honestly didn’t think it was going to be an issue so quickly."
"It never ceases to amaze me how much you underestimate him."
"The same might be said for you."
"I would have called."
Zainab and Miranda walked up to them. "Sorry to break this up," Zainab said, putting her arm through Richard’s. "But do you think we should go in now?"
Richard looked up at the house and sighed. "No time like the present."
Michael opened the door and smiled. Miranda thought it was strange that he actually seemed happy to see them, but that couldn’t be the case. No, she thought as she took off her coat, now we just wait for the other shoe to drop.
"Wow, Michael," Zainab said as she looked around. "You put all of this together in two days? It looks like a real home."
"Because that’s what it’s always been," Michael said, but not to Zainab. "My real home."
"So," Richard said slowly, "where did you order in from?"
"Order in?" Michael said with a smile. "I do know how to cook, you know."
Miranda shook her head. "No, I actually had no idea you knew how to cook."
"Life is just full of surprises, isn’t it?" Michael smiled at her, and there was that odd look again.
Alex glared at Michael. "Miranda, I think you should give Zainab a tour of the house now, don’t you?"
"But it isn’t..." She stopped. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t her house. "Sure, Z, let’s see what we can find. Although I’m sorry to say, my tour probably won’t be as much fun as Richard’s." Zainab knocked Miranda on the shoulder as they left the great room.
They found a small bedroom. Miranda looked around. Every other room in the house had been updated and dusted, but this room was almost exactly as it must have been some sixteen or seventeen years ago. This must have been Michael’s room. His childhood bed was neatly made with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle bedspread, and there were quite a few baseball bats, mitts and balls piled in his closet. Despite herself, Miranda smiled to think of him as a little boy who liked to play catch, since she’d never seen him show any interest at Alex’s house.
"Are these Michael’s parents?" Zainab asked, pointing to some photographs hanging on the wall. They weren’t posed family photos, but pictures of a smiling little boy with his parents. Michael was dark-haired then as now, but here he was skinny, wiry and smiling, as
if someone had just told him a joke. His familiar, handsome, red-haired father with sparkling blue eyes was smiling too and mussing his son’s hair. His dark-haired mother was smiling as well, but her smile looked more drawn and for the camera than for her husband and son.
There were others, such as one of Michael and his father in the Public Gardens and another of him with his mother, perhaps when he was four years old, walking to school. His mother looked happier there, smiling at her son. Miranda looked at her in both pictures. What had happened in the ensuing years? What was she like right before she died? And then she had a sadder thought, what might Michael have been if she hadn’t died? That thought had quietly haunted Miranda for years, but for the most part it hadn’t mattered for the face of what Michael had become. But here, in this room, was the ghost of the man Michael could have been. Miranda smiled as she looked at the handsome red-haired man, whose face she had seen many times in pictures in Alex’s study. And now he seemed so much more familiar. She stifled a tear as she realized why. He had the same face as his son.
Michael burst in. "Alright girls, enough rifling through my things, if you don’t mind. Richard and Alex are done with the veiled threats, so I think we can eat now." Miranda and Zainab rolled their eyes behind Michael’s back as they all walked out, and Miranda was relieved that Michael had stayed true to form.
Michael was not a bad cook, but generally it was difficult to ruin such expensive cuts of beef if you had some working knowledge of a kitchen. Zainab tried to force some small talk with Alex and Michael, then gave up and started chatting up Miranda about summer co-ops and fall classes. But no matter how much the two of them talked, the tension between the men was inescapable.
By the time Michael brought out the chocolate mousse, Miranda and Zainab had given up and simply traded looks, then looked at the men eating silently. Suddenly Miranda burst out laughing, and everyone looked at her. She tried to stifle it, but she couldn’t help it. She apologized and excused herself into the kitchen. Zainab was right behind her.
"What’s so funny?"
"I just couldn’t stop thinking about Mitch all of a sudden."
The Family You Choose Page 6
