The Family You Choose

by Deborah Nam-Krane

  "Why are you telling me this now?"

  "Because last night was just like the first time. You didn’t move, you didn’t touch me. You were just lying there."

  "And you did what you wanted."

  He shook. "I’m so sick of...I’m so tired of not getting it right, or getting it right and then getting it wrong. God, just turn me in to the police. Forget it—I’ll turn myself in."

  "Do you think that will make you any better?" Miranda said, still looking at the ceiling. "Do you think you’ll change if you’re punished?"

  "I don’t know. I don’t care. I just don’t want to hurt you."

  Miranda sobbed. He turned and buried his face in her hair as if he might never feel her next to him again.

  "What were you going to say to him?"

  "You bastard."

  "Please tell me."

  She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to remember right before. "I was going to tell him that I loved my husband. I was going to tell him that I didn’t want to trade you for a schoolgirl’s crush or playing someone else’s ghost. But it doesn’t matter now."

  "Why doesn’t it matter?" He wasn’t breathing.

  "I thought you’d changed, but you haven’t. It only takes five seconds in his presence for you to go from the man who loves me to the boy who couldn’t stop taking things away from me or just breaking them."

  "So now you don’t love me, just like you used to not love me?"

  "I can’t stop loving you." She felt like she was opening up that hole in her heart again. "It just doesn’t make me happy anymore."

  "He’s trying to take you away from me," he whispered pleadingly. "And he took everything else away. I...you don’t know how lonely and desperate I was. Or maybe you do. But then I got everything I wanted, and it was all...it was better than I’d remembered. I can’t let him take that away again."

  "You didn’t get your money."

  "I don’t want the money. I don’t even care about this stupid, cold house. I want you. You’re everything."

  She faced him. "You have me. I’ve given myself to you in every way. But it’s never good enough for you. What would it take for you to believe me?"

  Tears streamed down his face. "I’m never going to be good enough for you. How can I believe that you’d want me or love me the way I am?"

  "You have to trust me."

  "Why?" He sat up, shaking his head, feeling like he was going crazy. "Do you really want me? Are you just afraid of being alone? Because if that’s the case, that’s not a good reason for you to stay with me, you of all people. You’re never going to have to be alone. There’s always going to be someone who’s going to love you."

  She sat up. He sighed because she was so beautiful right then. He touched her face and she didn’t push him away. She closed her eyes, rubbing her cheek in his hand. "I can’t prove it any more. I can’t prove I love you or want you or need you any more than I already have. You’re either going to trust me and love me too, or you’re not. And if you’re not, then we have to stop. We have to stop right now, while I still can. Because...it’s just more and more every day. I can’t stop loving you, even if it hurts. I never thought I’d envy that in someone, but I do now. If it’s not going to work, we can’t be together anymore. I’ll still love you, but maybe someday I’ll be able to forget why and it won’t hurt so much." She opened her eyes and touched his face. "Please, please, end this now if you’re not going to trust me. You said you’d do anything."

  He didn’t have a choice. "I can’t lose you," he whispered. He kissed her gently, tentatively. "You have to tell me. You have to tell me that you want me. You have to tell me that you need me. You have to tell me that you forgive me. You have to tell me why."

  Crying, she took both of his hands in hers and put them on her face. "I want you because you’re so handsome you make my heart stop, and I don’t know how I never saw it before. I want you because you have a beautiful voice and when you sing I feel like I’m going to dissolve. I love you because you can be so gentle with me and you make me feel like I’m the only one in the room. I love you because you’re sweet, and because you know what my favorite colors are even though I never told you. I love you because you knew when I had dreams about my mother and you were the only one who cared. I need you because you’re the only one who ever took my loneliness away, and it doesn’t matter if other people love me, you’re the only one who makes me feel like I don’t have to be alone anymore. And I forgive you because I know that you were alone too, and no one loved you enough for you to believe that they’ll love you now."

  "No," he said softly, pulling her to him. "I do believe you." He kissed her and stroked her hair. "Do you believe that I’m sorry?"

  "Yes," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

  "Then will you let me show you?" She nodded without saying a word, but grabbed him hungrily. It all felt natural again—she needed him as much as he needed her.

  They finally fell asleep, briefly, at dawn, reluctant to stop looking at the other. It was only that they were completely intertwined with each other that gave them the assurance they both needed to be able to close their eyes.

  CHAPTER 46

  It was going to be at least two weeks before Miranda didn’t need to get around on a cane. She insisted on hobbling out for daily walks now that the weather was getting warmer, but she reluctantly agreed to wait until the evening so Michael could come with her. "I can get around by myself, you know."

  "What if you fell?"

  "I could call 911."

  "Or you could just wait until I’m there so I could catch you."

  "I like mornings better."

  "Okay, then how about I quit my job now?"

  "Evening walks will be fine."

  Having been locked in the house for so long during the winter, Miranda now wanted to go out as much as possible. "Take me to a movie," she said on a Saturday morning as they lay in bed.

  Michael groaned. "We saw one last weekend."

  "I want to see a different one."

  "I don’t think any of them are worth seeing right now."

  "Yeah, but you don’t like a lot of things, so you’re a bad judge."

  "Can’t we rent something?"

  "But then you can’t get the yucky movie theater popcorn or candy."

  "But you don’t eat those anyway."

  "Yeah, but it’s nice to know that they’re there."

  "Alright," he sighed, kissing her. "But I get to pick the movie, and you have to make it up to me when we get home."

  "I don’t have to make up anything," she said petulantly, "because what I’d really like to do is go out dancing tonight, and I obviously can’t."

  "Dancing?" he smiled, kissing her shoulder. "Really? Because I thought you said I was a lousy dancer."

  "Well, you were at my bat mitzvah."

  Michael laughed at the memory. "And how do you know I wasn’t doing that on purpose?"

  "Hmm, that does sound like something you’d do to get on my nerves. Or you could have just been really awkward."

  "Awkward fifteen-year-old, whoever heard of that?"

  "Right," Miranda said, pinching him a little bit. "Who happened to get busted twice screwing around with some of the over-eighteen waitresses."

  Michael furrowed his brow. "I did? I don’t remember."

  "That’s because you also got caught three times with beer."

  "That I remember." He rubbed her back. "So you’d be willing to risk being seen on a dance floor with me after that? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you or anything."

  "Okay, I’ll just go myself when my ankle’s healed up."

  He remembered what she looked like in New York when he’d caught up to her. "The Hell you will."

  ~~~

  After the movie—which was really bad, but really funny—they walked to the JP Licks on Newbury Street. Michael wanted to take a cab, but Miranda insisted on walking. She ordered a chocolate chip cone, and he ordered a coffee ice cream sundae.
She took a lick of her cone, and he raised his eyebrows. She kicked him under the table but laughed. "You know," he said, lingering over his spoonful of ice cream, "we never got to make our own sundaes at home."

  "And now we can’t, because you’re eating one right now," she shrugged. "Very sad."

  "I can fix that." He grabbed her cone, dunked it into his sundae and then threw both of them in the trash. He came back ten minutes later with two pints of ice cream and hot fudge and whipped cream. "Coffee and chocolate chip," he said, looking into the bag matter-of-factly.

  Miranda peered in. "Huh. Yeah, and it’s next to the hot fudge. Guess we’d better get that home soon so it doesn’t melt."

  Michael kissed his wife. "That is just what I was thinking."

  CHAPTER 47

  "Okay, now I’m hungry," Miranda said breathlessly after she rolled off her husband the next Saturday morning. "I want a bagel really, really bad."

  "You keep going, and I’m going to be really jealous. You never talk about me that way."

  "How do you know what Zainab and I talk about when you’re not here?"

  "Uh huh. And does she have similar things to say about Richard?"

  Miranda dissolved into giggles, and Michael followed suit. "Okay, nice try," she said after a minute, "but I’m still hungry. We’re getting bagels, now."

  "No, we’re not doing anything like that. You still have to take it easy on that ankle."

  "I will have my bagel," she said as she sat up.

  He sat up too. "Then I’ll get you a bagel," he said, kissing her.

  She kissed him back. "You don’t know what I like," she whispered.

  "Betcha I do," he whispered back and kissed her again.

  She rubbed her nose on his. "Okay, tell me."

  "You like," he said, "an everything bagel—"

  Another kiss. "Mmm hmm?"

  "—With veggie cream cheese." He kissed her again, lingering a little longer. "And you like to take all the seeds that fall off and tap them into your cream cheese."

  She laughed, kissing him. "I wonder why I don’t find that creepy anymore?"

  "That is possibly the sexiest thing you have ever said to me."

  Thirty minutes later, she was sitting on his lap in the dining room and they were feeding each other bagels. When they were done, Miranda put her arms around his neck and smiled at his cap. "I want you to take me to a Sox game."

  Michael raised his eyebrows. "Red Sox? When did you become a member of Red Sox Nation?"

  Miranda giggled. "As of...today." She kissed the tip of his nose. "I think you look really cute in that Red Sox cap right now."

  "Yeah? Do you know how much I wanted to hear that when we were kids?"

  "I wouldn’t have dared get this close to you if you had been holding a baseball—or a bat, for that matter."

  "What would it have taken?"

  "Being nice to me."

  "That didn’t look like it got Richard a lot of action."

  "But I think I probably told him how cute he looked a couple of times."

  "Okay," he said, but there were tears in his eyes.

  She stroked his cheek. "Don’t cry. I’m here now."

  "I know." He rubbed her back underneath her shirt. "I just wish...I hadn’t wasted so much time getting in my own way. Although, I guess there was always something in my way."

  Miranda clenched the back of his chair. "Michael, please..."

  "I’m sorry." He grabbed her hips. "I just play it over and over in my mind sometimes and I just can’t see how it could have worked between us any earlier."

  "Why do you have to be so god damned obsessive? You still can’t be happy that I love you now?"

  "Excuse me for wondering if it would have been more fun making love to you than coming up with ways to get to you. Then again, I guess being with an inexperienced teenager isn’t much of a fantasy compared to being with Boston’s Most Eligible Bachelor."

  "My fantasies weren’t that graphic when I was younger. It probably wouldn’t have mattered too much. And besides, I don’t think you were inexperienced for too long."

  He shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure I could take advantage of any opportunities that arose."

  He smiled as if he were joking, but there was something about his look that made Miranda pull away. She got up and turned to throw away the bagel wrappers. "So are you going to get those Sox tickets or not?" She was trying to laugh, but her hands were shaking.

  He hugged her from behind. "Don’t turn away."

  His hands burned on her skin. He still made her heart race at the strangest times. She closed her eyes. "I can’t change the past. I wish I could—believe me, in so many ways—but I can’t. You can’t." She turned around. He kissed her and she felt her legs begin to tremble. She pulled back. "Is it enough that I love you now and I want you for later, or not?"

  He smiled sadly. "It’s everything, darling. It always was." For a split second, Miranda thought she understood. But then he kissed her again, and she stopped thinking.

  CHAPTER 48

  On Monday evening, Miranda jumped into Michael’s arms when he came home. It was then that she noticed that Michael’s eyes were red. "What’s wrong?"

  "I have to go away tomorrow morning," he said miserably. "They’re sending me to the west coast for two days."

  Miranda held her breath. "And?"

  "And...I have to go. Isn’t that bad enough?"

  Miranda hugged him. "But it’s not for that long," she said, rubbing his face. "And then you’re coming back."

  "No, forget it!" he said, throwing his jacket off. "I’m giving them my resignation tomorrow."

  She couldn’t stop laughing. "Are you serious? You will do no such thing. Quit when you come back."

  "We don’t need the money."

  "No, but I think it’s good for you to have something to do."

  "So I’ll start a charity. I’ll have Richard give me something to do. I’ll start working out."

  "I don’t know why I’m having trouble picturing that."

  "This isn’t funny!"

  She took his hand. "It is funny that you’re so upset. Don’t you know I’ll be here when you get back?"

  "Come with me."

  "I haven’t gotten my all-clear from the doctor yet. I don’t think you want me hobbling around with you."

  "I’ll take you any way I can have you."

  She put her arms around his neck. "How about we make a deal that you can do just that when you get home if you go like a big boy?"

  He smiled, but tears streamed down his face. He kissed her hands. "Will you just promise me that you’ll be here when I get back?"

  She kissed his eyelids. "I’ll be here, my darling. I’ll always wait for you."

  They didn’t sleep at all, and only with much prodding did Michael leave their bed so he could be ready for his flight. "You’re not going to go away?" Michael said as he left their bedroom and held her hands.

  "I’m not going anywhere."

  They got to the door. She kissed him as he leaned on the wall. "And you’ll call me?" he said.

  "I’ll even text you."

  "Will you send me a picture or two?"

  "Don’t push it."

  "And you’ll be here?"

  "I’ll be here." She fought her tears as she realized he really was leaving. "You’d better get out of here, Mr. Abbot."

  "Whatever you say, Mrs. Abbot." He kissed her one last time. She watched him walk away and closed the door behind him. She touched the spot where he had been and closed her eyes. She cried all the tears she’d held onto last night and that morning, then took a deep breath. She’d find things to keep her busy for the next two days, and then he’d be home with her.

  CHAPTER 49

  The phone rang in Alex’s study early Monday morning. He knew who it was and picked it up without saying hello. He listened and hung up twenty seconds later, then dialed another number.

  "Because I need to see her. I wouldn’t be calling if
there was another way. She won’t take my calls. She doesn’t understand what she’s dealing with. It’s delicate. Damn it, this is not a request. I want to see her at twelve, and you know where. Just make it happen!" He slammed down the phone. He took a deep breath to compose himself. He fingered the two envelopes on his desk. One he’d had for quite a few years, the other he’d gotten only the last week. It had killed him to wait this long. But everything had to be just right or it wasn’t going to work.

  ~~~

  It had only been in the last two weeks that Emily had been able to tolerate food. The meds had stopped her from throwing up, but it hadn’t stopped the intense nausea. She could drink, but food, and the nausea it generated, had made her feel choked. Now she could eat, and she gratefully accepted when Professor Hazlett had asked her to join her for lunch today in the faculty lounge.

  At twelve-ten, Professor Hazlett still hadn’t arrived. Emily assumed that she had to attend to a problem with a student and would be by soon. She could wait to eat, but her juice was calling to her. She had just bent over to sip her juice when a shadow fell across the table. She looked up. But it wasn’t Professor Hazlett.

  "Hello, Emily. It’s good to see you. Sorry I’m late."

  Emily could not believe her eyes. She was at a loss for words as Alex Sheldon pulled back the chair across from her.

  "What are you doing here?" she finally managed.

  "I see. Sorry. I thought Joanna would have handled this a little better. But I guess that’s my fault. I made it clear I needed to see you; I left it up to her as to how."

  She might be sick again. "I think everyone knows how I feel about you, Mr. Sheldon. I think you know how I feel about you. I can’t believe you’d think she could get me here any way but through a lie."

  "Call me Alex."

  "Alright, Alex," she said, leaning forward. "I don’t know what kind of a sick little game you’re playing now, but you’ll have to find someone else to do it with."

  "I’m sorry. You’re the only one that’s going to work."

  Emily smiled despite herself. "And why is that?"