by Robert Price
Chapter Thirty-Seven
After entering the kitchen, Carrie pulled the door closed and hovered by the wall waiting for Ezekiel to look up from the photographs of Tom and acknowledge her. She could tell by his pensive expression that he was digesting the just disclosed news that Tom was her son’s father.
Deep in thought, Ezekiel rearranged the photographs on the table. At first, Elizabeth’s news that Tom had fathered a child clobbered him like a wave, catching him off guard and tossing him off balance to the point that he needed to sit down before he fell down. Now that Ezekiel thought about the boy’s age, close to five, it made sense. That coincided with a rocky period when he and Tom had argued almost constantly about seemingly needless things, like folding laundry and washing dishes and who was seeing whom. He recalled that Tom had become so unhappy he temporarily moved out, claiming to need time to evaluate their relationship.
After that difficult period, however, when Tom moved back in, Ezekiel remembered that they entered what he thought of as the happiest phase of their relationship. We had matured. In Ezekiel’s mind, that short separation had also introduced a new depth of trust between them. He thought that many of the obstacles, the little nit-picks that had kept them arguing, had fallen away. But, Ezekiel was now discovering, in reality his trust had been misplaced, for it was during that rocky period, when they had separated, before they had gotten back together, when Tom fathered a child and kept it a secret from him. Ezekiel had always been keenly aware of Tom’s interest in women, his bisexuality. He even knew that at times, especially early on in their relationship, Tom had had affairs with women. They talked about it. And when they talked about having children of their own, they discussed using a surrogate mother, and if the mother agreed, Tom wanted to do the deed himself, actively partaking in the making of their baby.
Damn it, why didn’t I notice it myself; the boy even looks like him. Ezekiel looked up and saw Carrie standing by the doorway. His face displayed a need to talk.
Carrie spoke as she approached, “I overheard Elizabeth.”
She sat down, the photos spread on the table between them. Her tone was open and friendly; she wanted to be respectful of the pain he was feeling.
“Well, actually, I have to admit, I was eavesdropping in the other room. I thought you and Elizabeth were talking about Tommy and me.”
“So you know it all then? Well, I don’t,” Ezekiel spoke quickly, almost curtly. “There is one thing: Did Tom know he was the father?”
“Yes,” she answered cautiously, though she suspected that Ezekiel would refrain from reacting with the same animosity Elizabeth had.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was Tom’s son?”
Carrie, tired of having to explain her actions, spoke softly. “I didn’t know you even existed until earlier today, and I had no idea that you were Tom’s lover until a few moments ago. I haven’t spoken to or seen Tom since just after Tommy’s birth.”
Her patience stretched, her soft demeanor turned defensive. “Besides how was I to know he had a lover? Least of all, a lover who was a man.”
She had done nothing wrong. She had chosen to raise the boy on her own. Tom chose to return to Ezekiel. How could she have known that Tom had a relationship with him while he was with her? In her mind, Tom had betrayed them both.
“I was more than his lover,” he corrected her. “I was his partner. We were together for ten years.”
“Partner, yes, you were his partner.” Carrie watched Ezekiel’s sad, disillusioned eyes scan over the photos. She breathed slowly, meditatively. She could feel his loss. After all, Tom had left her, too, years before. She, however, still had Tommy.
A kitchen clock ticked loudly as they sat in silence.
“You had a life together,” Carrie said at length. “Look at all these beautiful photos.”
“Yes,” Ezekiel responded quietly, thoughtfully agreeing. He liked Carrie. He felt comfortable with her near him. Although he had only met her that day, he thought he understood Tom’s attraction to her, as a person. “I’ve been sitting here thinking … It’s funny how much your son looks like Tom. I didn’t notice the resemblance at first … when we met outside in the street.” His voice perked up, “I only thought, ‘Well, isn’t little Tommy such a handsome boy.’”
“A very handsome boy, a little gentleman. He reminds me of his father.” She placed both elbows onto the table and dropped her chin into her palm. She looked at Ezekiel with big blue eyes that displayed a willingness to listen.
Ezekiel held up a photograph of Tom. “I want to get angry at the past, at Tom.”
“For cheating?”
“Yes, for cheating.” He placed the photo down and, looking squarely at Carrie, continued: “We had times when everything between us wasn’t so perfect. I’m not a saint either, or for that matter even a practicing Christian,” he chuckled. “But it hurts. It hurts. I end up questioning what Tom and I had, and who Tom was. And I don’t want to do that.”
He paused and swallowed hard.
“Tom and I, we had our difficult times. Yet, I loved him and still love him and that’s all that matters.”
Searching Carrie’s eyes, Ezekiel saw that part of her still loved Tom, too.
“He never mentioned anything to you?” Carrie whispered, embarrassed but curious. Yes, Tom had broken her heart. She blushed slightly. She, like Ezekiel, wanted recognition for having once loved the man.
“Not a word,” Ezekiel said compassionately. “I don’t know how he managed to keep you and Tommy such a secret. I’m stunned. Tom could be such a blabber mouth.”
“He was a blabber mouth, wasn’t he?”
They laughed.
Ezekiel reached across the table and picked up the black and white photograph of Tom as a boy with the farmhouse behind him. “This was his favorite. Look, do you see your little Tommy there, in Tom’s face?”
“How absolutely adorable. They could be twins.” Carrie’s face glowed looking at the photo. Then she lowered her voice and said, “You know, I’ve told him very little about his father. Maybe it’s because of his peers. They’re mostly single-parent children, too. Hell, he doesn’t even know that his father is dead, or who any of these people are. Then again, he doesn’t ask me about any of that, anyway. Not yet.” She paused and added, “I worry what he thinks sometimes. Although he talks a lot, he doesn’t ask many questions for a boy his age. Sometimes I think he’s trying to protect me.”
“He takes after his father.”
“I would love to have some of these to show Tommy,” Carrie said, picking up another photo, “to help him get to know this place, his father’s history, all of it, Tom’s mother—and you. I want him to know you.”
Ezekiel’s heart leapt like he had just received the most perfect gift.
Carrie looked around the kitchen and waved her arms: “So he has something. Do you understand? Some roots, some history, something to hold onto.”
