Later that night, in bed, Sasha revealed that during my absence, she feared that old feelings would spark up between Elle and me.
I propped myself up on an elbow and stared down at her. “Why would you think that? I would never betray you, Sasha.”
“I let my insecurities get the best of me.”
“What insecurities? You’re the most confident woman I know.”
“I thought so, too, but this past week I’ve been terrified that the old flame between you and Elle had been rekindled.”
“I don’t understand why you would think that.”
“Well, you were barely over her when we met. We were both rebounds,” she admitted with a sad smile. “And you never said that you two had stopped loving each other. You said she moved on because your addiction left her no choice. I feared that seeing the wonderful man you’ve become would make her want to reclaim you. And I feared that now that Phoenix knew the truth, you’d be eager to begin a life with your real family.”
“You, Zoe, and Phoenix are my real family—not Elle. Elle and I were like strangers, and our son was our only connection. Whatever we had in the past is long gone. It’s dead! I love you, Sasha, so please, don’t ever think that you can’t trust me around Elle or any other woman.”
That night Sasha initiated sex. She told me to lie back and enjoy myself, and I did. She made love to me with an intense passion and I wasn’t sure if the passion was ignited by the fact that she missed me or if she felt like she had to compete with Elle.
CHAPTER 13
Sasha and I were a bundle of nerves during the days leading up to Phoenix’s arrival. We wanted his two-week visit to be perfect, and we had put together an itinerary of activities we hoped he’d enjoy. From family outings to private male bonding time for Phoenix and me, we made sure that his vacation would be eventful and without a dull moment.
Together, Sasha and Zoe had worked hard to give the guest bedroom a makeover, transforming it from a nondescript space into a contemporary teenage boy’s bedroom featuring sports-themed décor. We wanted Phoenix to be comfortable enough to view the room as his personal sanctuary.
“Remember, don’t bombard your stepbrother with questions and don’t feel slighted if he’s not interested in interacting with you as much as you might like. He’s a teenager and kids at that age can be moody. We’re all going to have to respect that and be willing to give him his space,” Sasha told Zoe as we drove to the airport.
“I’m practically a teen, too,” Zoe said, sounding a little indignant.
“We’re well aware that you’re smart and mature for your age, but the fact is, you’re only nine and you’re going to have to stay in your lane with Phoenix,” I reminded Zoe. Sasha and I allowed her to engage in our conversations, but I doubted if a teenage boy would be as tolerant as we were.
“I know how to conduct myself around older kids. If I get the impression that Phoenix isn’t interested in my conversation, I’ll back off. I’m not oblivious to the feelings of others,” she added with a nonchalant shrug.
Impressed by Zoe’s level of maturity, Sasha and I exchanged a look of pride.
At the airport, the three of us stood together, eagerly waiting for Phoenix to disembark his plane and join us at the baggage claim area. My pulse raced with excitement; I’d been waiting for this day for so long. My boy and I had bonded so well when I was in Philadelphia, and he was as eager as me to try to make up for those lost years by spending quality time together.
I was looking down at my phone reading a work-related email when Sasha suddenly made a gasping sound. I yanked my head up and she was pointing excitedly at Phoenix who was bounding toward us.
I dashed toward my son and wrapped my arms around him. When I released him, I couldn’t stop grinning. “You’re really here. You made it!”
“Yup. I made it. What’s up, Pops?” he said with a huge grin.
Pops! It had a nice ring to it and sounded much more intimate than Bio Dad or Malik, which was how he interchangeably referred to me. Everett already had the title, Dad, and I was perfectly fine with being called Pops.
Wearing welcoming smiles, Sasha and Zoe approached us.
“Hi, I’m Zoe, AKA pesky little sister,” Zoe blurted before I could begin making introductions. “I promise not to talk too much. I’ve been warned not to get on your nerves.”
“Aw, you can talk all you want, Little Sis. You won’t get on my nerves.”
He turned his attention to Sasha. “Bonjour maman, ravi de vous rencontrer,” he said to her. “On m’a tellement parle de vous.”
“En bien j’espere?” Sasha replied with a slight smile and an arched brow.
“Bien sur,” said Phoenix.
“What did they say?” I asked Zoe, who’d assumed the role of my French interpreter at an early age.
“Phoenix said, ‘Hello Mom, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.’ And Mommy said, ‘You’ve heard good things, right?’ And then Phoenix said, ‘Of course!’ ”
“What would I do without you, Zo-Zo? Having one French-speaking person in the household was bad enough, but with two, I feel double-teamed.”
“Don’t worry. I got your back, Daddy,” Zoe assured me.
The four of us chatted easily as we waited to collect Phoenix’s luggage from the carousel, and Phoenix didn’t seem like a stranger at all. He fit right in.
On our way to the car, he and Zoe joked around while Sasha and I walked together. I had insisted on carrying Phoenix’s bulging duffle bag, my small way of trying to make up for my absence in his life and all the weight I’d never carried.
When Zoe complained that the walk to the car was taking forever, Phoenix offered her a piggyback ride, which she gladly accepted. When the car was finally in sight, Zoe pointed to it and Phoenix took off running with her on his back.
I loved hearing the sound of their laughter, echoing in the distance.
Sasha squeezed my hand, letting me know that she was happy too.
With Phoenix here in Arizona, I felt as though my life had come full circle.
During the ride home, Zoe pointed out landmarks and other areas of interest along the way, providing long-winded historical information that I doubted Phoenix cared about. He could have tuned Zoe out or mumbled disinterestedly, but remarkably, he seemed interested, asking questions that she eagerly answered. Any concerns about the possibility of our blended family not getting along, quickly melted away. I appreciated that he was making an effort to interact with Zoe and had the patience to put up with a talkative nine-year-old.
We entered our affluent neighborhood in Springfield Hills, and I slowly drove along the twenty-mile-per-hour streets where the impressive dwellings were canopied by lush Palo Brea trees and framed by stately Aleppo pines. I made a right turn onto our equally attractive street. Thankfully, with Sasha’s and my combined incomes, we were able to afford an expensive home with landscaped flower gardens and stone pathways and many other perks.
Although I doubted if Phoenix would have cared where we lived, the petty side of me was relieved that Sasha and I were as well-off as Everett and Elle.
As we neared our driveway, Phoenix gave a friendly wave to Baxter Westfield, a bespectacled kid who lived down the street from us. The kid was out in his yard diligently working on a bike. He pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up and gazed at us quizzically, but barely raised his hand to return Phoenix’s greeting.
From the corner of my eye, I could see that the Westfields’ garage door was up. Inside the garage, I detected about a dozen bikes in various states of disrepair. I rarely saw Baxter riding a bike, but he was always working on them. It was his hobby to upgrade them to look like flamboyant, pimped-out rides.
Baxter was quiet and reserved, yet his bikes were showy works of art.
“His name is Baxter Westfield,” Zoe informed Phoenix as we rode past the Westfield home. “It’s not that he’s an unfriendly jerk; it’s just that he’s shy…and nervous from getting picked on
at school,” she explained. “I heard that he gets bullied all the time at his middle school, and that’s probably why he keeps to himself. I talk to him sometimes, but he doesn’t say much, and it’s totally boring trying to hold a one-way conversation.” She gave a one-shoulder shrug.
Phoenix’s mouth grew taut and his eyes narrowed, signaling irritation. “The middle school should have a no-bullying policy like my school does. Kids shouldn’t have to put up with mean-spirited crap in the classroom.”
“You’re right, son. I’m sure Zoe will make sure they change their policies by the time she starts middle school. She’s already an advocate for environmental awareness,” I said proudly, recalling how she had initiated a green project for her third-grade classroom. “It’s only a matter of time before she takes on social injustice.”
“Stop, Daddy. You’re embarrassing me,” she whined.
The four of us climbed from the car and walked past an array of flowers as we trekked along the winding stone path that led to the front door. I unlocked the door and disarmed our alarm system, and as we filed inside one-by-one, I noticed Phoenix lagging behind as he glanced over his shoulder, obviously concerned about Baxter, a kid he didn’t know from a can of paint. Obviously, my son was a compassionate soul, yet another good trait that he possessed.
“Why don’t you go introduce yourself to Baxter after you get settled in,” I suggested, giving him a pat on the back.
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”
We gave him a tour of the house, saving his bedroom for last.
“Thanks for welcoming me into your home,” he said, sounding like he was reading from a script. I was sure that his mother had fed him that line.
“It’s your home too,” I quickly replied, not wanting my son to feel like a guest in our home.
As Sasha and Zoe hovered in the doorway of his room, I stepped inside. “Do you need some help putting your things away?”
Phoenix gave me a patient smile. “Chill out, Pops. I got this.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s give Phoenix some space,” I said, motioning for Sasha and Zoe to move along.
While Phoenix seemed to be completely at ease, the rest of us were a bundle of nerves as we tried to make him feel at home. Zoe was super-talkative, Sasha was uber-polite, and I couldn’t stop checking on his comfort level.
“We’ll be downstairs, son,” I added and immediately felt foolish. Phoenix was a self-confident young man, and he didn’t require any form of hand-holding or coddling.
I offered him a resigned smile and exited his room.
Downstairs, Sasha busied herself in the kitchen while Zoe and I played a game on her Xbox. Though Zoe usually played Lego City, she selected Star Wars Battlefront II, a more mature game that she figured Phoenix would enjoy playing.
When we heard him bounding down the stairs, Zoe held up her controller in offering. “You can play Dad if you’d like, Phoenix.”
“No, I’m good. I’m going down the street to meet my first friend.”
In two seconds flat, he was out the door, and Zoe and I lost interest in the video game.
Hearing the alarm system announce that the door had opened and closed, Sasha emerged from the kitchen. “Did Phoenix go out?” she asked with her brow creased.
“Yeah, he doesn’t want to play with Daddy and me. He prefers the company of Baxter.” She made a go-figure gesture, which brought out titters of laughter from both Sasha and me.
“Dinner will be ready in a half hour. Should we eat without him or should we text him and tell him what time to come home?” Sasha asked.
In a quandary about how to parent a teenage boy, I scratched my head in befuddlement. “Maybe we should give him a little bit of rope. He’ll come home when he’s hungry. Let’s not make him feel like he has to sit for formal meals.”
“You’re right,” Sasha said. “I’ll make him a plate and leave it in the microwave.”
“Or maybe we should let him make his own plate,” Zoe suggested. “He seems like the independent type.” She made an adorable face and I felt compelled to lift her up and playfully spin her around the room.
As she squealed delightedly, I felt relieved that I had one child who hadn’t yet crossed over to mysterious-teen territory.
CHAPTER 14
I didn’t expect an outgoing kid like Phoenix to find so much in common with an introvert like Baxter Westfield, but amazingly the two of them became thicker than thieves. Phoenix spent hours holed up in the garage with Baxter, working on bikes.
Being that Phoenix considered himself to be the cerebral type, I was surprised that he enjoyed working with his hands, particularly when the work was being performed with a newfound friend who wasn’t much of a conversationalist.
It was often said that opposites attract, and I supposed it was true since Phoenix was spending more time at the Westfields’ home than ours.
He’d already reneged on two family outings that we’d planned, and it seemed that the only way to get him to spend family time with us was to invite Baxter along.
Sasha and I both took off from work on Friday to take the kids to a popular water park. We drove for an hour and when we finally arrived, I was astonished that Baxter didn’t bring along any swimwear.
Zoe was eager to get wet, but I told her to hold on until I got Baxter squared away with a pair of swim shorts.
“I’m sure the gift shop has swimwear, Baxter. We’ll pick up something for you,” I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
“That’s okay, Mr. Copeland. I don’t like water rides,” Baxter said, scratching his left cheek that was marred by old acne scars.
I glanced at Sasha, making an expression that said, ‘Who goes to a water park without a swimsuit?’
Sasha returned my silent inquiry with an expression of puzzlement.
Baxter was weird. But it wasn’t his fault. His dad was some kind of computer geek who was rarely home and spent most of his time at his job in Scottsdale, Arizona. His mom seemed to be overmedicated on antidepressants and she didn’t seem to interact much with the kid, either. It was no wonder that his social skills were sorely lacking.
Seemingly unconcerned about Baxter’s comfort, Phoenix and Zoe were already in line to get on the Aqua Loop, a water ride that resembled a roller coaster and was a little too lively for Sasha and me. We opted to try out the Lazy River ride, something that was much more sedate.
“Hey, Baxter,” Phoenix called out from the long line he and Zoe was standing in. “Go get Zoe and me some nachos. We’re gonna be starving by the time we get off the ride.”
Mechanically, Baxter turned and headed toward the refreshment area.
I could tell by Sasha’s expression that she didn’t approve of the way Phoenix had ordered Baxter to go fetch him something to eat. It was bossy and insensitive, not at all the kind of behavior I expected from my son.
“I’m going to speak to him,” I said and then meandered over to Phoenix.
“Hey, Phoenix,” I said with my voice dipped low enough to prevent the other people in line from hearing what I had to say. “Baxter’s your guest, not your servant. You should be more considerate of his feelings.”
“It’s cool, Pops. Baxter doesn’t mind.”
“It’s not the way you should treat a friend,” I insisted.
“It’s an equal friendship, Pops. I’d do the same for him if he asked me,” Phoenix replied, sounding a little hurt that I’d accused him of being unkind to his friend.
I suddenly felt like I was making a big deal out of nothing. I turned my attention to Zoe. “Your mother and I are going to get on the Lazy River. Do you want us to wait for you?”
She scrunched up her nose. “No! That ride is boring.”
Phoenix laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”
“Okay, we’ll catch up with you kids later.”
“All right,” Zoe said distractedly as she and Phoenix moved forward in the line.
After the Lazy R
iver ride, Sasha and I spent some time browsing around the park and then we rented a cabana and relaxed while being served umbrella cocktails, like we were on an island vacation. I drank virgin Pina Coladas while Sasha had the real thing.
Having a stationary spot made it easy for the kids to periodically check in with us. It was a fun day, and the only thing that disturbed me was the uncaring manner in which Phoenix treated Baxter.
At one point, when the kids stopped by our cabana, I noticed that Baxter was carrying Phoenix’s and Zoe’s wet towels.
“Zoe, why is Baxter schlepping your towels around?” Sasha inquired, speaking directly to Zoe and no doubt expecting me to follow her lead and query Phoenix.
“Oh, he’s taking those to the towel deposit and then he’s gonna pick up dry ones for us.”
Sasha shot a look of disapproval at Zoe.
My sweet Zoe, a future crusader for social injustice, was picking up Phoenix’s conduct and was seemingly oblivious to the way they were treating Baxter, and I didn’t like it. I made a mental note to have a long, stern conversation with both Zoe and Phoenix. Their entitled behavior was unacceptable and I intended to nip it in the bud before it got out of hand.
Later that evening, after dropping Baxter off at his house, we sat Phoenix and Zoe down and began the discussion.
“Zoe…” Sasha began in a soft, calm voice that meant she was dead serious.
“Yes, Mom?”
“In my business I have employees who perform various duties for me. Now, what I’d like to know is when did you put Baxter on your payroll?”
Zoe frowned uncomprehendingly. “I don’t have a payroll.”
“Of course you don’t, which is why you have no business giving Baxter any duties to perform. I’m very ashamed that I have to have such a discussion with you. I raised you to be kind and thoughtful and considerate of the feelings of others.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Zoe responded with her eyes downcast.
“I’m sorry, too,” Phoenix volunteered before I’d even started in on him. “I didn’t realize I was being inconsiderate, but I see it now.”
Flesh and Blood Page 10
