Page 94 of Spiral

Donald nods, continuing the explanation in his own words.

“Your mother and I were there for each other for many years, sport,” Donald rasps, his voice gentle. “We both loved your father, but he and I both knew what he had done was unforgiveable. I loved your family like my own. I wanted to give your mother everything I thought she deserved through all of those years of hurt.”

Henry is silent, his jaw clenched tight and cheeks burning crimson. I glance down at his balled fists, with knuckles white from tension.

“Henry, sweetheart–”

“No, Mom,” he quips, interrupting her attempt to comfort him.

Henry lets out a deep sigh as he runs a hand anxiously through the front of his hair, combing it out of his stoic face. He continues to speak, his voice low and grave.

“I mean, Jesus… Dad was my hero my entire life.”

Lisa’s face warms, a soft smile curving at the edge of her lips.

“Oh, pookie. He can still be your hero. He was an incredible father to you both. He loved you so much. He did everything he could for the two of you. He deserved to be your hero.”

Henry shakes his head as a single tear streams down his reddened cheek.

“No. Not with how he treated you, Mom. I mean, fuck–”

His eyes well with tears, brimming over the edge before spilling down his cheeks. He cries silently, refusing to acknowledge the moisture streaming down his face. I grab hold of his hand, saying nothing, and instantly feel the muscles in his arm relax at my touch.

I love him.

Lisa sighs quietly and adjusts her position within the plaid chair, hesitating for a moment before parting her lips softly to speak.

“Our relationship was our own, Henry. We were two adults who made our own decisions… I decided to stay with him, to care for him when he was sick–”

“You shouldn’t have–”

“And then I decided to move on. Too quickly, some might say. Either way, my relationship with your father should not define your relationship with him, honey. That’s why I never told you the truth. As far as I’m concerned, James Anderson was a hero as a dad. And that’s all that should matter when you remember him.”

She folds her hands gently in her lap and shoots a glance over to Henry’s sister, who is sitting opposite to us in a simple armchair. Sarah nods at her mother approvingly – supportively – and Lisa appears to relax when she does so.

“Mom, I’m so sorry.”

Henry’s face is sunken with regret, and I squeeze his hand gently. His eyes meet mine when I do, softly and vulnerably, and my heartbeat quickens at his glance.

“Don’t be sorry, pookie,” Lisa replies, drawing my attention back into reality. “You had no way of knowing. I never intended for you to… but, in a weird way, I’m glad it’s out in the open.”

“Have you known this whole time?” Henry asks, directing his gaze towards his sister.

She shakes her head, her long blonde hair falling behind her shoulders as she does it.

“No. I only found out a few months ago. Mom and Donald sat me down when I found a random stack of letters from Mrs. Perkins in Dad’s office. They were love letters.”

A look of disgust shrouds Sarah’s features. “I was furious and confused, and, well, Mom told me the truth then.”

Henry nods his head, and I can tell he’s struggling to find something to say.

Who would know what to do in this situation? He’s spent years ignoring his mother, looking out for his sister. All for nothing.

“Pookie, would it be alright if I hugged you?”Lisa's voice is sing-songy and gentle, full of hope that he’ll say yes.

And he does.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Henry reiterates, his voice muffled by tufts of her golden curls as she holds him.

---