Page 111 of Close Match
* * *
An hour later,I knock on Victor’s door. I’m about to push it open when I hear the distinct click of cups being set down. Shit, I’m interrupting. Frowning, I glance down at my watch. I’m on time, so he must be running over. I wonder why his assistant told me to go right in. Victor’s door opens, and I start to apologize. “Hey, if you’re in the middle of finishing something, I can wait. Carla just told me to come in.”
Victor reassures me, “It’s no problem at all. Come in and join us.” Stepping back, he pulls the door open. And there they are: Mom and Ev.
“Hey, son,” Ev calls out as he stands from the wingback chair he was sitting in. There’s a face mask on the table in front of him.
My lips are trembling so hard. My eyes can’t hold the tears back.
“Honey, it’s okay,” Mom soothes me. “Ev’s fine to be here as long as he wears the mask in and out of the building.”
I face her because it’s easier. She gave birth to me. “But why? I don’t understand why you’re both here after what I did? He just called me ‘son,’” I scrape out.
“Because that’s what you are, damnit.” Ev comes striding forward. His hands clasp my triceps, and he gives me a gentle shake. “Nothing changes that, Montague. You. Are. Loved.”
The shaking of my head sends the tears flying to the left and right. I’m sure I should be worried that some of them land on Ev, but I’m in denial. “How could you? I saw what I did. I saw! I should be jailed for what I did, not…”
“Forgiven?” Ev accurately guesses.
I nod.
“Son, even if I didn’t have all of your letters where you accepted every ounce of blame and never once asked for it, I would have forgiven you. Do you know why?” My letters? My head turns toward Victor, who shrugs. Ev continues. “Because you’re not the only person who’s made mistakes. You’re not the only person who’s broken under pressure.”
“I’m the only one who’s hurt your daughter,” I remind him, bracing myself for the rejection. But other than a flash of pain in his eyes—Linnie’s eyes—there’s nothing.
“No, you don’t even have that distinction. Her mother did, as well. It took her pointing that out for me to understand.”
I shove the sleeve of my sweater under my nose as I sniffle, not caring that there are likely tissues a few feet away. “Understand what?”
“That being broken doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed.” And with that, Ev grabs me into his once again strong arms while I sob. Soon, my mother is wrapping her arms around both of us and holding on fiercely.
“We love you, Monty,” the man who raised me whispers in my ear.
And finally, at almost thirty-nine years old, I call Ev the one thing I never had the courage to in the most important sentence I can utter.
“I love you too, Dad. I always will.”
And Mom is now the one crying the hardest out of all of us.
* * *
“You haven’t asked,”Ev—no, my dad—says mildly a few hours later. We’ve finished with our official session with Victor. Usually, after a family reunion, my parents would be permitted to eat with me in the dining room before they have to leave, but due to the medical complications because of my father’s recent transplant, Victor arranged for a private meal for us in his office.
I was beginning to like Victor before. Now, I’m sure I do. Another mental wall is down as I know I can trust this person with my burdens.
I don’t pretend to misunderstand him alluding to Linnie. “I don’t have the right,” I say, my appetite disappearing. Pushing the plate of pasta away, I lean my elbows on the table and press my forehead against my clasped hands. “What am I supposed to ask? Is she healing? I sure as hell hope so because if not, I want you to sell everything in my name to make sure she’s getting the best medical care she can. Is she back in New York? Does she hate me? I bet I can answer that one already.”
Dad wipes his lip with his napkin before saying, “Yes, yes, and no.”
My brow lowers. “Huh?”
“Yes, she’s healing quite well. If you had managed to come into contact with the stone wall instead of the split rail, I suspect you’d have had more damage. Once I was released, I went out to the accident site. It really could have been a lot worse.”
“I should have been hit with a few boulders myself,” I mutter. I feel a light slap on the back of my shoulder. My mother’s narrow-eyed stare still makes me shake a little inside.
“Listen to your father,” she demands. Then a beautiful smile crosses her face. “Do you know how many years I’ve wanted to say just that?”
He takes her hand and lifts it to his lips, just like I used to do with Linnie. The shaft of pain that shoots through me is worse than detox was. Focusing on me again, he says, “Yes, she’s back in New York. She’s working on an interesting play Off Broadway.”
