So what? Let him.
It's only good for me.
But it still pissed him off.
Alina called at lunch.
"They have a meeting on Wednesday nights.
It's a group grief counseling session.
You wouldn't be alone, or even just with me.
It would be us, a counselor, and two other couples.
What do you think?"
He thought it was bullshit.
Nothing any counselor could say would make Alex return, or make Ian stop wishing he would.
The very idea that someone would try to convince him to
get over it
made him grit his teeth.
But he missed Alina.
God, he missed her.
So he said, "Sounds good."
"How does this coming Wednesday look?"
"Well, you know, I have that business trip to
Rome
, but I can wrap it up early and take my private jet back.
I should make it."
He'd meant it as a joke, but it came out too sharp.
"What about dinner first?"
Silence.
"Alina?"
"I don't think that's a good idea.
Let's just meet there."
Let's keep it business.
You can see me again if you perform the way I want you to at the session.
"Okay.
Do you want to email me the address and stuff?"
"Sure."
She fell quiet again.
Their conversations were fraught with these pits of silence now.
You could stumble into one at any time, without warning, and just fall, and fall -
"Ian, are you serious about this?"
"What?
What do you mean?"
"I feel like you're just doing this to make me happy."
No shit.
What was he supposed to say?
No, as you know, I am ready to move on.
It's like we never even had a kid.
Let's pretend that.
It'll be easier.
See, I've totally come around!
He didn't know how to respond, and he didn't want to stammer - so there was another pit, yawning beneath him just when he thought he was getting his footing.
She said, "It's just not going to work if you don't give it a chance."
"I know.
I'll give it a chance.
Yes, I'm taking it seriously.
I promise."
As his lips moved, he remembered how, when he'd first fallen in love with her, he'd promised never to lie.
He felt like a jackass.
But lies were the only thing that would make her happy.
She didn't want to know what he really thought.
She didn't want to know that he still saw Alex, playing with cars -
Shake it off.
"Hey.
Guess what."
She sighed.
"What."
"Justin sent me a posting for a Senior position.
I guess he thinks I should go for it.
It would be at least two bucks more an hour."
"Wow.
Really?"
She actually sounded pleased.
He hadn't heard her sound that way in a long time.
"Yeah."
"Are you gonna apply for it?"
I don't know.
Part of me doesn't want to give him what he wants.
A year ago, he could've told her that.
He could've told her anything.
"Yeah, probably."
"Well, good luck.
I hope it goes well for you."
Not,
Let me know how it goes,
or
That would really help us out.
He felt like he was standing on a cliff's edge, with the wind pushing at his back.
"Thanks."
He came home late.
Alina had already put Alex to bed, but he wanted to say good night.
Alex's door was ajar.
Just an inch or so, because if it was open too far, he would use the light to play; but if it was closed, he would scream bloody murder.
Ian eased it open, then picked his way over the floor, littered with cars and Legos like a minefield.
His son was lying with his face to the wall.
Ian kissed his temple, smiling gently.
"Hey, guy."
Alex's eyelids fluttered, but didn't open.
"Daddy's home.
He loves you."
Normally he would stop there, creep back out and leave his son to rest, but sometimes he had to say more.
Sometimes it felt urgent.
"Daddy will always come home.
You never need to worry about that.
I'm always gonna come home and keep you safe."
He made this promise because his own dad hadn't; he made it because nothing in the world mattered as much as the little boy in that bed.
He made it because he didn't want Alex to worry.
From behind him, Alina cleared her throat.
He glanced back at her, smiling, and saw her glare.
"What?" he asked.
"What the hell are you doing?" she said.
He had never seen her so irritated.
"What do you mean?"
"Would you just get out of there?"
"I was just saying good night."
He turned to give his son another kiss, but the boy's face had been blasted open.
"Alex?"
Blood was splattered across his son's temple, over his blankets, up along the wall.
A glistening hole gaped where his nose had been.
"Oh my god.
Alina!"
But when Ian turned back, it was Leroy Eston in the doorway.
His gouged eye burned in the depths of his silhouette.
"Where were you?" he said.
It snowed on Wednesday, and when he saw her waiting on the sidewalk for him, the flakes were collecting in her hair.
She looked beautiful.
She let him give her a quick peck on the lips.
They were warm, and tasted like peppermint.
When he pulled away, she gave him a tight smile.
"Thanks for coming."
"I'd do anything for you," he said, and meant it.
Mostly.
Then he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be here for her.
Her smile flickered away, but it was too late to take the words back.
The setup was simple: metal folding chairs, arranged in a circle in the school gym.
A pretty, black woman greeted them as they came in.
"Ian Colmes?" she said, "and Alina?"
Alina nodded and exchanged big, warm, fake smiles with her.
Ian couldn't muster one.
"I'm Shauna.
Have a seat anywhere.
We're just about to begin."
Ian took off his coat and slung it over the back of a chair as he glanced at the other couples.
One was heavyset, a white man and woman who weren't morbidly obese but could get there with little effort.
The other was a thin asian couple.
He didn't recognize either of them.
"Welcome," Shauna said warmly once everyone was settled.
"My name is Shauna Douglas, I'm a licensed therapist at the
Associate
Grief
Center
in
Saint Paul
.
I've been working with grieving parents for more than fifteen years now."
She nodded encouragingly, and grinned a challenge at him.
"I live in Pine Springs, so this is a bit of a
haul
" - she chuckled -"but we've been hosting sessions here at the junior high for several years, and I think we've helped a lot of people."
Her head bobbed vigorously at no one in particular.
Ian felt his neck trying to nod in response, and forced it to be still.
"Let's just start by going around the circle and introducing ourselves.
I started" - another overwrought grin - "so you can go next and we'll just go around."
She nodded at the asian couple like an overzealous teacher trying to coax a child into the pool.
"Okay," the woman said without a trace of an accent.
"I'm Rachel, Nguyen, and this is my husband Harvey."
Harvey
nodded at them; Ian nodded back.
"Should we... say who we lost?" Rachel asked.
"If you'd like to," Shauna said.
"Whatever you're comfortable with.
We'll all be sharing later."
"Okay, well..." She glanced at her husband.
"It was our daughter, Lana."
The words tumbled out, rushed but steady.
"She was sixteen and had just gotten her license and was hit by a drunk driver."
A round of condolences followed; then it was the fat man's turn.
He took off his hat and his pate shined with sweat.
"I'm George Benson, and this here's Mary Ellen.
Our son Evan's been missing for three years now.
They can't find him.
It don't seem like he's coming back."
He pinched his lips and looked at his wife, who grabbed his hand.
He nodded tightly.
"I mean, we don't know, you know?
But it don't seem like he's coming back."
"I'm so sorry for your loss," Shauna said, then looked at Ian and Alina.
Ian cleared his throat.
"We, ah -"
He looked at Alina.
"Did you want - ?"
She shook her head.
"I'm Ian Colmes, and this is my wife Alina.
Our son, Alex..."
He didn't want to say the words.
It wasn't that he didn't want to admit Alex was dead; he could do that.
But Alex had been special, divine.
He didn't deserve to have his memory desecrated by a fucking round robin of lost children, like just another corpse getting rolled into a pit of rotting bodies.
"Alex was an incredible kid, with these amazing blue eyes.
Looking at us you would never have guessed where he got them."
He looked at Alina; she gave him a sad, lop-sided smile.
"He was really smart, and I know everybody says that about their kids, but it was really true.
But most of all he was a great person.
He was only five, but he was so outgoing and friendly.
For a five-year-old, he was incredibly selfless."
He huffed.
"Shit, for a thirty-year-old he was incredibly selfless.
He never had a problem learning to share, or make friends.
He was friends with anyone he met, instantly."
A familiar image burst in his thoughts: Leroy Eston, pulling up alongside Alex as he walked toward home, asking the boy for help finding his way around the neighborhood.
"I'm lost.
Can you help me?"
That's all it would've taken.
His throat closed.
He forced his way past it.
"Someone shot him in the face and dumped him in a ditch," he said.
"That's it."
Shauna gasped and shook her head.
It sounded fake, and it made Ian want to jump out his chair.
Please don't act like you care.
I realize you hear these stories all the time, but for fuck's sake, he was my son.
Don't
fake
it.
But when the group's response ended,
Harvey
leaned forward and said, "Did they catch the guy who did it?"
He looked earnest, hungry.
"No," Ian said.
"But he got shot in the stomach.
They think it happened while he and Alex were fighting.
Alex fought back."
He couldn't keep the pride out of his voice.
"The guy died."
Harvey
gave a sharp nod, leaned back.
"Not the guy who killed Lana," he said.
Unlike his wife, he had a slight Cantonese accent.
"He was in a giant truck, one of those with the really big tires?
He was barely scratched.