Page 74 of The Sky in Summer
“What’s Dad doing here?”
“I don’t know. Probably wants to say another goodbye. You know how they are.”
The lion gets out of his car and gives a wave.
“I’m taking you to the airport! Don’t give me any shit about it either.”
“I haven’t said a word!”
By the time he reaches the open door I see the tears in his eyes.
“Fuck, Dad. Don’t start. Here, help me with these,” I say, grabbing my carryon and handing it to him.
“Hello, boys,” he says to his son and grandson.
“Hi Dad. Teddy, take out that big one. Help Grandpa.”
“I don’t need anybody’s help! I’m not a hundred and ten you know.”
“Just do it,” Aargon instructs Teddy.
As he walks out with the heavy black suitcase, he’s mumbling, “This is fucked up.”
“That is exactly what it is. But it’s your uncle’s decision. None of our business,” my father says over his shoulder. “Van hasn’t figured out his heart is smarter than his brain.”
That was another message for me, not Teddy.
I catch Aargon’s face and the expression of acceptance. It is already done.
“I’ll call you tomorrow when I get settled. It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”
He speaks in low tones so the others don’t hear.
“I hope you don’t throw away your chance.”
“At what?” I say, knowing exactly what he means.
He knows too. The question goes unanswered.
“I know what it feels like to lose love.” Tears shimmer in his eyes.
This is rare for Aargon. Just the out loud acknowledgment is too painful. He has never spoken about how he still is reeling from his wife’s death. Still. But he speaks of it for my benefit.
“I don’t want that for you, Van. Really think about what you are choosing. Nothing is happening that can’t be undone. Not yet. But if time passes and she goes on with her life, you won’t have the luxury of changing anything, bro.”
I take him in a hug. “It’s not me. It’s her. But thank you. I know you suffer, and I wish we could take it from you. Love you.”
When we part I see the question in his eyes. It’s her?
18
Layla
Four o’clock. I have looked at my cell at least ten times in the last hour. Countdown to misery. It is masochistic. At the same time, necessary. The pain will make me face facts. Van is gone. It happened. There was a little part of me that fantasized him making the right decision at the last moment. But none of me ever believed it would happen.
I am no competition for the sophisticated French women who wear clothes beautifully, who seem to age so gracefully. My modest apartment no draw over the beautiful one he has created in Paris. It’s not even a contest. Whatever he liked in me will be forgotten or replaced. In no time at all.
I have never saidfuck meso many times in one day. I am thinking it now. Tears push to have their say. I am fighting the impulse with everything in me. I cannot go down that road, because what if I can’t stop? And what would the twins think if they saw me crying? The cover would be blown, and they would know their mother is a big fat liar who has been hiding her true feelings for months. I have been successful in the con and I won’t change stories now. No. I can’t let that happen.
