The Family You Choose

by Deborah Nam-Krane

  "What about Alex?"

  "He's not here, is he?"

  "I think he is in a way. I know you saw him at Richard's house, and you both acted like idiots."

  Michael looked away. "Yeah, that wasn't as satisfying as I thought it might be."

  "So hurting Alex wasn’t everything you thought it would be?"

  "I think you could say that," he said, shaking his head. "I think Hell is going to have to freeze over before Alex turns that money over to me anytime soon, and by ‘soon,’ I mean before I’m dead."

  "It was stupid to tell him. You should have waited until after you’d gotten what you wanted."

  "And there you are," he said, pulling her down so she was lying on top of him.

  "You admit you’re stupid?"

  "No. I’m getting what I really want."

  Hours later, having forgotten hunger and thirst, but not sleep, they collapsed into each other’s arms. "You wanted this?" she asked sleepily.

  "Yes," he said, squeezing her and kissing her cheek. "Do you believe me?"

  "I don’t know." Before he could say anything else, she fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 18

  He woke her up at nine on Sunday evening. "I’m hungry. For food," he said with a smile. "Do you want anything?"

  "Um...maybe some bread?" she said groggily.

  He put on his pajama bottoms and came back five minutes later with some bread, cheese, fruit and wine. He fed her an apple slice. She laughed, and for the next slice let her lips linger on his fingertips. He inhaled sharply. "Then again," he said, "food is overrated."

  "I think so," she said, taking his hand.

  "Michael! Let me in!"

  They froze. Alex banged on the front door again. Michael gave Miranda the food and put his shirt on. "I’ll take care of this," he said, closing the door.

  Miranda couldn’t hear their conversation outside the door, but she could hear yelling and shouting, mostly from Alex. She pulled the blankets around her, preparing herself for Alex to burst in. Then she heard a crash and a shatter. She grabbed one of Michael’s shirts and ran out, in time to hear the front door slam and see Michael on the floor, blood oozing from his mouth, lying next to a broken lamp.

  Shaking, she ran into the kitchen and got some ice and a towel, then pulled Michael over to the couch. "Thanks," he mumbled, then put the ice against the back right side of his head.

  "Alex hit you?"

  "No. We were having a perfectly civilized conversation, and then I slipped and fell, and brought the lamp down with me. And Alex, gentleman that he is, ran to the drugstore to get some gauze."

  "Right," Miranda said, hitting his arm. "And you had the TV on during all of this, which is why it sounded like there were two people yelling."

  "I knew you couldn’t be as silly as you looked." He wiped the blood off his mouth. "But could you not hit me for a few minutes?"

  "What was your civilized conversation about?"

  "He’s still looking for you." Michael groaned. "I told him to check Zainab’s."

  "And you...slipped because of that?"

  "I slipped because I told him that you might have company over and didn’t want to be disturbed. He didn’t appreciate the implication."

  "I see," she said, laying his head on a cushion. "I sleep with you, and suddenly I’m open for business?"

  "No," Michael said irritably. "But I thought that would be just the sort of thing Alex might expect me to say—and just the sort of thing that might get him to leave. Sorry—I wasn’t trying to offend your honor."

  "Let me see. I’ve spent the last twenty four hours with the guy who tried to rape one friend and assaulted another, and half-hated me for most of his life, when he maybe didn’t want to rape me too." She shrugged. "Yeah, I can see why that guy wouldn’t think I had any honor to offend."

  "That isn’t…" But before he could continue, he rolled over and threw up on the floor. Miranda ran to get a towel, then saw Michael starting to fall asleep. "Michael! Michael, wake up!" Damn.

  She threw on her pants and dragged Michael to his car. Driving as fast as she could, she got to the emergency room in fifteen minutes. She had just started arguing that Michael couldn't wait to be seen when he threw up again. They were seen immediately.

  It was four o’clock in the morning when Michael was finally released. It was a concussion, but not a serious one. He needed to see his doctor on Tuesday, but otherwise, ice was going to do the trick.

  Michael groaned when Miranda put him into his bed and then left to clean up. "You are such an idiot," she said when she returned to his room to put ice on his head. "Were you trying to get hit?"

  "Why is it that I’m an idiot, but Alex gets off scot-free?"

  "I’ll deal with Alex later."

  "No you won’t."

  "Sorry, you just don’t sound very authoritative with a concussion."

  "I’m serious. Please."

  She stroked his hair. She wanted him to fall asleep. "He’s not going to hurt me."

  "He’s pretty angry."

  "You just worry about you right now, alright? I mean, really, the one thing we could always count on you to do was protect yourself from getting hurt. Although on the bright side," she said, fluffing up a pillow next to him, "I understand that head injuries can sometimes lead to personality changes."

  She snuggled into his chest. "You see," he said sleepily, hugging her into him. "I do have a plan." He kissed her, but then she pulled away.

  "Michael, what about work?"

  "What about it?"

  "Okay, so do you even really have a job, or is that another one of Alex’s lies?"

  "Believe it or not, I do have a job, and I actually do it well."

  "Well, I’ll believe you have a job—probably. Isn’t it Monday? Shouldn’t you call if you’re not going in?"

  Michael turned over to face her. He was smiling. "Why the sudden concern for my welfare? Do you think you’re actually starting to like me?"

  She kissed him softly. "Call me crazy. Someone gets hit, probably over me, and I guess I feel a need to be nice, no matter how much of an ass he is. It’s pretty childish, I know."

  "And I have my uses, don’t you think?"

  "Maybe, but since you’re in danger of getting cut off from...‘the lifestyle to which you’ve grown accustomed,’ I think you should be worried more about your job right now."

  He kissed her. "Just think—if I don’t go into work today, you get me all to yourself."

  She smiled and closed her eyes. "If I get you today, you’re not doing anything more strenuous than sleeping on your side."

  He winked one eye and cocked his head. "I can commit to that until twelve, but after that I can’t make any promises."

  "Fine," Miranda said sleepily, wrapping her feet around him. "But I won’t make any promises either."

  CHAPTER 19

  Alex was impatiently waiting for Keith to finish supervising the delivery men with the new monitor and bookcase. He was snapping at everyone, and finally he stormed out. Should he go into his office? No, they didn’t need him for a few hours, and he thought he would go crazy if he tried to kill time there. He needed some fresh air, nice and cold, to distract him.

  He grabbed his coat and walked out, not putting it on until he could see his breath. He had to fight every impulse and instinct in him not to track down Zainab’s apartment and drive over there now. But he...he was at a loss for the first time in a long time. He knew that a clock was ticking—he didn’t know when it would go off, but he could hear it nonetheless. But he didn’t know what he could do to fix this. He just knew it needed to be fixed. Because he’d made a promise that it would be.

  After all these years, he wanted to pick up the phone and call Stephen. Nobody had made Alex laugh like that in quite a long time.

  Everyone said Michael had Stephen’s face. Maybe, Alex allowed grudgingly, but Stephen’s face had been narrower. Stephen had been much more active than Michael, although he’d drunk much, much more
. The biggest difference was the smile. Stephen smiled freely—at Alex, Annabelle, Michael, at life in general. Michael didn’t smile unless someone was being hurt. And Miranda knew that. Why...?

  Alex was nauseous. He walked into a store just to steady himself. He hadn’t meant for anything like this to get so far out of hand. Perfect justice, some might think; perfect revenge. But the only people who would think that would be the ones who had no idea of what the real truth was.

  ~~~

  The day Alex Sheldon met Tatiana he’d gone to visit Stephen. It was 1990, one of those beautiful, clear spring days that still had a nip in the air, but just enough sun and new green to promise good things to come.

  He walked by the window and saw Stephen embracing someone. She was too short to be Annabelle. Alex wasn’t a true romantic, but he shook his head nonetheless. Stephen had been faithful to his wife since the day she’d agreed to go on that first date with him. Alex wasn’t fond of Annabelle—better to say that their enmity grew with each passing day—but he could admit that Annabelle was, by and large, good for Stephen. Even if she hadn’t been, a return to Stephen’s promiscuity wasn’t going to do anything for him. Lastly, in passing, he thought how unfortunate it would be for Michael to grow up without his father, because of course Annabelle would keep him with her, no matter what.

  Alex was usually discreet and he would usually have turned around and walked back home. He would have called later, pretended he didn’t know what was going on, and then trapped his victim into confessing. It was only fair if Alex was going to help him protect his secret, his marriage or both. It occurred to Alex that he should do this, but Stephen was his best friend. He wouldn't get off so easily.

  Stephen looked flustered when he opened the door a minute later, but his hair wasn’t out of place, and there were no tell-tale signs of lipstick on the collar. Alex grinned nonetheless. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

  "Steve, who is it?" a voice called out. Stephen smiled despite his annoyance, and two seconds later she came to the door. For the first time in his life, Alex was speechless. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was blonde—since when did Stephen like blondes?—and she had porcelain skin. But her eyes were what Alex couldn’t stop looking at. They were the most perfect shade of green he’d ever seen, not too blue, not too yellow, not too dark. They were, he thought, still staring, the color of the leaves just blossoming on the trees.

  Stephen cleared his throat. "This is," Stephen said, "believe it or not, my oldest and dearest friend, Alex Sheldon."

  "Oh, hi!" She had a sweet voice and fantastic smile. Alex had an altogether different smile for her. She held her hand out, and he shook it limply.

  "And you are?" he said at last.

  "Tatiana Hamilton." She looked at Stephen, who seemed to be shaking his head. "Tatiana Hamilton," she repeated.

  "Tatiana," Alex repeated, and stepped into the house. "What an unusual name. It’s beautiful, of course. Are you...Russian?"

  Tatiana laughed. "I don’t think so. I’ve hardly been out of Massachusetts, much less the country." She shrugged. "My mother was a bit of a Shakespeare nut, but my grandmother thought Titiana was a bit too...Olde English?"

  "Oh," Alex said, only vaguely aware that he was still holding Tatiana’s hand. "A Midsummer Night’s Dream. That’s my favorite Shakespeare play. Stephen, isn’t that my favorite play?"

  Stephen looked extremely annoyed, and Alex came back to earth. He dropped Tatiana’s hand. She giggled and grabbed her coat. "Oh, don’t leave on my account," Alex said earnestly.

  Tatiana laughed again. "Let’s talk more about Shakespeare some other time. It will give you time to read up on...Othello, maybe?" Before Alex could say a word, Tatiana turned to hug Stephen and kissed him on the cheek. "So I’ll see you next week?"

  "Of course, just as I promised." Alex was struck by the difference in his tone, so protective and...adult? Maybe having a mistress would be a good thing for Stephen.

  "And we’ll talk more about it then?"

  "Yes." He gave her a peck on the cheek, hugging her.

  She turned around to Alex. "And it was nice meeting you too, Mr. Sheldon."

  "Call me Alex," he said, taking her hand again. "I hope I get to see you again too."

  "It will be my pleasure." He thought she looked genuinely interested when she said that, but she left before he could be sure.

  Stephen looked after her as she walked down his walkway. He had a sad smile, and he sighed as he closed the door. Now that she was gone, Alex could sympathize with his friend. Annabelle was good for Stephen, but maybe the marriage and everything else wasn’t.

  He looked back at Alex and smiled guiltily. "So," Alex said at last. "When did you meet her?"

  "It’s...sort of a long story."

  "It usually is. And when were you going to tell me about her?"

  He put his thumb to his lips, as if deep in thought. Then he smiled. "I guess I hadn’t worked that out yet."

  "And when were you going to tell Annabelle?"

  Stephen turned to Alex. "Never, Alex, I mean it. I think; at least for now. This has to stay between you and me."

  Alex had never heard Stephen so serious. "Whatever you say."

  ~~~

  See you next week, Alex had repeated to himself that whole week. Which day? He could just ask Stephen. Sometimes it was nice to share secrets with someone you already had to share other secrets with. But this one seemed...different. Veiled references in Annabelle’s presence were completely ignored and not acknowledged even when Annabelle wasn’t there. This was not a game; at least, not one Stephen wanted to play with Alex.

  So Alex used his head, which had served him well on so many other occasions. He didn’t know anything except what he’d already seen. It had been around eleven when she’d left. So she’d leave maybe around that same time again. Maybe it would be the same day of the week? Maybe, but Alex couldn’t be sure. So he took an early lunch every day the next week and drove around Stephen’s block from ten-forty-five to eleven-fifteen.

  He’d begun to feel like not only a deviant but an ineffective deviant when he saw her round the corner from Stephen’s block toward Boylston Street. He smiled to himself. Maybe not totally ineffective.

  He parked his car and rushed to get to the block she was on, then slowed down so he could stroll into her.

  "Sorry!" he said when he bumped into her. "Oh, hi! It’s Tatiana, right?"

  She smiled when she saw him. "Alex, is it? So nice to see you again. You know, isn’t it funny? I thought I saw someone who looked like you in a black car just two blocks away. But it couldn’t have been you, right, because here you are, just out for a stroll? In Stephen’s neighborhood no less, just as I’m leaving. Isn’t that a coincidence?"

  He couldn’t keep himself from grinning. "Very coincidental."

  Tatiana nodded. "And I bet if I walked back I wouldn’t find that same black car parked on the street, would I? Because then it’s not a coincidence anymore, it’s something else."

  It had been some years since he'd turned red. "You caught me. Yes, that was me, driving around Stephen’s block, hoping for the chance to see you and get shot down in the street." She was giggling now. "Let me guess, I’m not the first guy to try that."

  She looked up as if she were thinking. "No, but you were the first one to try it on this block. On me, at least." She raised her eyebrow. "But tell me, was I the first one you did a drive by for?"

  "Oh, absolutely, indubitably, yes ma’am. I honestly can’t think of anyone else I’ve ever met that I would go to the trouble for."

  "When you say it like that, I can’t help but believe you."

  "Scout’s honor," Alex said, holding up his hand.

  "You were a boy scout?"

  "I think I made it through a month of the Cub Scouts before I decided it wasn’t for me. But would a dishonest person tell you that?"

  "I see your point." She smiled. She had a very nice mouth too. "So, Mr. Sheld
on, you’ve gone to all this trouble to talk to me. Did you have something in particular that you wanted to say, or have we already covered it?"

  "Has anyone told you that you have the most beautiful eyes?" It really was the first thing he wanted to say.

  "Actually, most of the women in my family have eyes very much like mine, so it doesn’t usually come up."

  "What a lucky family. But I’m not talking about the color. Yes, they are absolutely the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. But have you ever been told that they are the most beautiful?"

  She still smiled, but a touch of sadness clouded her face. "Just by one other person."

  "Well, if he’s not still around to tell you, I think he’s a little bit of a fool, don’t you?"

  "He was a little bit of a fool," she said softly. "But he was a sweet fool, and you must know that that counts for something."

  "I’ve got to say, not too many people have called me sweet, but even fewer have called me a fool. What does that count for?"

  "I guess I don’t know." She took a deep breath. "Mr. Sheldon, I’m not sure Stephen would approve of this conversation. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that he wouldn’t."

  "I told you, call me Alex."

  "Fine, Alex, but it won’t make a difference."

  "Maybe I just like hearing you say my name."

  "Alex, I should go and we should forget this little accidental, coincidental meeting."

  "Does Stephen have some kind of document that gives him legal title to you and your time when you’re not with him?"

  "No, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about what he would think."

  "And what about what you think? It doesn’t bother you that he’s with his wife while you’re his little secret?"