The Family You Choose

by Deborah Nam-Krane

  "Fine. Tell me, then get out."

  "That pretty blonde you met at the AIDS Ball."

  "Oh, the one you were kissing?"

  "Yes, the one I was kissing. Did you ever ask Stephen how I met her?"

  "No, I was too busy being happy that you were gone."

  "Never be too satisfied, Annabelle. You miss so much. I met her through Stephen. I met her here. I saw them in the window—not very subtle. So I’m guessing Stephen was drunk. You know how much judgment he can lose after he’s started in on his eleven o’clock scotch-"

  "Shut up!" She turned away.

  He walked right behind her. "He had her here, Annabelle," he whispered. "More than once, while you were at your meetings. For the party she came to. Did he ever mention that he had anyone over?"

  "It’s—his house," she managed. "And I’m not his mother. I’m his wife."

  "His wife. You are, but do you know that you came pretty close to losing that distinction?" She turned around. Her eyes were red and swollen. "It’s true," Alex continued coldly. "He seriously considered leaving you. Considered leaving your son. Of course he didn’t do it. Stephen isn’t strong enough to leave you. He isn’t strong enough to go after what he really wants."

  Annabelle slapped Alex across the face. He knew she’d wanted to for years, since before she’d married Stephen. It hurt, but Alex didn’t move. He didn’t touch her. He’d already touched her. "But you’re strong, aren’t you Annabelle?" he said as if she hadn’t touched him. "You know how to fix things. You know how to get things done. A benefit. A child. A marriage. All the responsibilities of a family. So I have faith in you, Annabelle. I know you can do the right thing."

  "Get out."

  Alex opened the door and shrugged. "I was just leaving." He stepped into the hall and heard a crash of glass against the door after he closed it. He smiled. And then he turned around and saw Michael standing outside of his door. Michael blinked, angry, afraid, and unsure. Alex looked at him without any emotion, then turned and left.

  CHAPTER 52

  Weeping, Miranda went into the bedroom. She avoided looking at the bed. Twenty minutes later, she came out and put bags in Richard’s car. "Just take these to your place. I’ll pick them up in a few days."

  Richard drove off, and Miranda sat in the living room. It was six. Michael’s flight was just touching down. He was going to go through security. He was going to pick up his bag. He was going to get in a cab and come home to her. She cried all over again. She made sure that she cried to get all of her tears out so that they’re wouldn’t be any left by the time he got home.

  An eternity later, she heard the door latch. She took a deep breath and stood up. A moment later, she was facing him. He smiled with relief when he saw her. "You’re here," he said, taking her hand in his face and kissing her hungrily. She didn’t move. He stopped and touched her wet face. "What’s wrong? I’m back now."

  She couldn’t look at him, so handsome, so wonderful. The man she loved. She needed to do this quickly, or it wasn’t going to get done. And it needed to be done.

  "That was a twisted little story you told."

  "What?" He put his bag down. "What story?"

  "The one about my mother and your father. Perhaps you remember?"

  He shook his head, confused. "Why are you bringing that up now?"

  "Because it was all..." she took a deep breath. She knew the best way to do this. "It was all a lie."

  "I know," he said. "And it’s good that we know the truth."

  "It’s not the truth," she said simply. "You weren’t telling the truth."

  "Sweetheart, why now? Why do you need to think..." he seemed to understand. "It doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter, because it’s just like you said. It’s something in the past that we can’t change."

  He put his hands on her back and she sobbed. "Miranda?"

  She turned around, her face etched in misery. "What’s wrong?"

  "They weren’t lovers." She handed him the smaller envelope. "They weren’t lovers."

  He opened the envelope and read the document. He read it quickly. He shook his head.

  He looked up at her. Neither could speak for a moment. She broke the silence. "You got it wrong, I guess."

  "It isn’t an uncommon name," he said desperately.

  She nodded her head. "Yep, there must have been more than one. But then what a coincidence, hmm. Don’t you think?"

  Michael sank into the couch. He looked ahead at nothing. She needed to do this quickly, while she still could.

  "So your sick little plan worked," she said as coldly as she could. "You finally found a way to get what you wanted." She threw the other envelope at him. He didn’t move. "Open it," she said simply. "It’s everything you always wanted."

  He looked at her. He wasn’t crying. He was shaking his head. He opened the document and read it. He knew what it was more quickly than Emily or Miranda or Richard. "What the Hell?"

  "The money in question, Michael. The money you wanted so badly. It’s mine. All mine. I mean, first it was my mother’s, left to her by Michael Abbot Senior. And you know who that is, right? It looks like it didn’t start out as that much, but...my grandmother, I mean, my great-grandmother, she was pretty conservative. And Alex made it grow even bigger. Because Alex knows how to fix things the way he wants them."

  Michael stood up. "He gave you these. You can’t believe him."

  "He gave them to Emily. She gave them to me. And Richard checked it out." She blinked, unable to maintain her cool. "Do you think I would have given this to you on his word alone? I check things out now, much better than I did before."

  Michael didn’t move. "I didn’t-"

  "The money is yours," she said simply. "We’re married, and I think the way it works in this state is that whatever we have we split."

  "We split?" Michael repeated as the words sank in.

  "We split. We split the assets. You’re entitled to half, but because things are so—what’s the right word here? Unorthodox, maybe—I’m just going to give you all of it."

  "You’re going to give me all of the money?" Michael repeated, tears coming to his eyes at last.

  "All of it," she said. "I don’t want any of it. Look at the dates, Michael. Look at the ages. Do you not know what that means?" Her lips trembled. "And it’s perfect, isn’t it? Because you always thought someone stole something from you. And I guess they did, after a fashion. So now you get it back."

  Michael leapt over to her and held her by the arms. "I don’t care about any of this, do you understand? I don’t care about the money, and I don’t care what my grandfather did. Alex knows, Richard knows, Emily knows. I don’t care. They can keep it quiet, or they can tell the whole world. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change anything."

  She looked up at the ceiling and remembered, all of a sudden, what it was like when someone told her that her mother was never coming back to her. Now Miranda was the one who was gone. "It changes everything," she sobbed. "This was all a lie."

  "I didn’t lie to you," Michael said desperately, embracing her. "I didn’t lie to you."

  She wanted to tell him that she knew, but if she did she’d never leave his arms. "The money is yours," she repeated. "But not without conditions."

  "I don’t want-"

  "You’re going to quit your job, Michael. You’re going to quit your job and you’re going to leave. Go far, far away. I’m giving you two days. Just go—go and it’s all yours."

  "I don’t want it," he said, squeezing her tighter, and she could feel his sobs. She laid her head on his chest and hugged him as if she were holding on for her very life. In a way, she was.

  He took her chin to make her face him. "No," she said, pulling away. Because it was all over if she kissed him.

  "The money, and you go," she said.

  "I don’t want—"

  "But you promised, Michael," she moaned. She leaned her forehead against the wall. " You promised you’d do anything I asked
, and I haven’t asked for anything. I’m begging you for this." She cried a second more, closing her eyes. She knew he wanted to touch her, but he wasn’t touching her. She knew she should be grateful. She took a breath. "Two days, Michael. And then it’s all yours."

  She turned to the door. She started to walk away. "Miranda," he said. She stopped and bowed her head into her hands. No, she told herself. Just walk out now. And she did.

  She ran to her car and started it, forcing herself not to look in her rearview mirror, where she knew she’d see him.

  CHAPTER 53

  Richard drove Emily home. She couldn’t look at him. "I’m sorry, Richard," she said when he got to her door. "Is he-"

  "I’m going to check on him, Em. I’ll make sure he’s okay," Richard said gently. "I was planning on it."

  Emily nodded silently. "And...what about her? Shouldn’t someone check on her?"

  Richard’s face darkened, and she understood. She nodded again. "Please, call me—tonight or tomorrow, I don’t care."

  Richard drove off, and Emily felt empty. She let herself in and then walked downstairs to the little apartment she and her husband shared.

  Mitch was white when he saw her. "Emily, Emily, where have you been? You sounded so upset when you called, and I was worried sick, and you didn’t come home, and then I didn’t know where you were." He took a deep breath. "Is everything okay?"

  Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. He held her for half an hour, stroking her hair, telling her everything was going to be okay. He waited until she was ready for her story to come tumbling out. Then she told him. He had trouble understanding, first because he didn’t want to, but then because she kept apologizing. And then he understood. With tears in his eyes, he stroked her pained, drawn, guilt-stricken face.

  "She just lost everything."

  He shook his head solemnly. "No, she didn’t. She still has us."

  "Even you?"

  Mitch nodded. "Even me."

  CHAPTER 54

  Michael watched his wife, the woman he’d loved since he was a child, drive away. He stood still. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t exist. How could there be life for him without her?

  He stepped back into his house, which had been his home once, many years ago, when his parents had loved him. But it wasn’t his home again until he’d shared it with her. For many years he would have traded anything if he could have had his parents back. But now he’d give them up and give up ever having had them to make it possible to have her back.

  He ran into the bedroom, hardly able to see through his own tears. He needed to know she hadn’t really gone. But he went through the drawers and closets, and everything of hers was gone. He cried, putting his hand on their bed, which she’d laid in last night, waiting for him to come home. Then he took off his ring and held it to his heart.

  Michael hadn’t cried like since he was seven years old. For years, he remembered every detail of his father’s last night as if it had been burned into his memory. He never told anyone how much he knew or how much he wanted to forget.

  Michael had come out of his room when he heard the glass crash. He looked at Alex. He wanted to be told he shouldn’t worry. But Alex just left.

  Michael ran to his mother. "Mom!" His mother was crumpled in the chair and crying. He’d never seen her cry like that before. He ran over and hugged her. "Mommy, mommy! It’s going to be okay. He’s gone now. I won’t let him in again, I promise." And then his mother cried harder. It scared Michael, but then she hugged him, and he thought maybe it really was going to be okay.

  "Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I wanted everything to be good for you," his mother said through her tears.

  "Mommy, don’t cry. You’re good." Michael was starting to cry too.

  Annabelle wiped her tears and patted her little boy’s head. "Michael, darling, how would you like to spend a couple of days with Uncle Jimmy and Richard? I bet they’d love to take you to the Cape for a couple of days."

  "But what about you, Mom?"

  "I’ve got a couple of things I need to do here, and then I’m going to come too."

  "What about Dad?"

  Annabelle’s eyes teared up again, but she didn’t cry. "I don’t think he can come this time. But you’ll see Dad again, I promise. Okay?" She nodded her head, so he nodded too. "So I’m going to call Uncle Jimmy and I’m going to have him pick you up tonight. Is that okay?"

  "That’s okay, Mom." It wasn’t fair for her to ask, because it wasn’t a question. "So I want you to go to your room and start packing up, okay? That’s my good boy." Annabelle kissed him on the head as she guided him to his room.

  He heard his mother pick up the phone. He heard her cry a little bit. Then he heard her put the receiver down. So he was going. He picked out his clothes. He picked out some comic books to take too. He had just turned his attention to the baseball glove when he heard the front door open. He froze. What should he do?

  "Bastard!" He heard accompanied by a hard slap. They were in the front hall. His heart beating very fast, he opened the door just a little bit. His mother had his back to him. His father was standing off to the side. But there was someone else, a very pretty blonde woman.

  "How dare you?" It must have been the third time his mother had said that tonight. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "You have the nerve to bring your mistress here?"

  "Anna, please calm down."

  "How long were you going to play me for a fool?" She was crying again. "Did you think you could hide this forever? Did you think I wouldn’t care? How long were you going to lie to me?"

  Stephen put his hands on Annabelle’s shoulders. She cried more. "I came here to tell you the truth, Anna. I swear. I’m sorry it’s taken this long."

  "And you had to bring her with you?" she said, shaking her head. Michael could tell she was looking at the blonde woman. "What did you do, switch off between Alex and my husband? Did you want to figure out which one could do more for you? So what did you decide, you gold-digging whore?"

  "Stephen, tell her now."

  Michael could see the tears in his father’s eyes. Michael could see him clearly, but his father only had eyes for his mother. "Tatiana, please. Wait. Please. Can’t you see this isn’t the time?"

  And now the blonde woman was crying. "How long, Stephen? How long do I have to be everyone’s dirty little secret?" And then her eyes locked onto Michael. "Oh, God," she said. "Enough. Enough! Forget I ever met you. That’s what I’m going to do."

  "Tatiana, please-"

  "Go to Hell! Go back to your perfect little life—I’m sorry I interrupted it!" She ran out the door.

  "Wait!" Stephen called out, but she didn’t stop. Stephen cursed as he ran down the stairs. Michael opened the door wider. He saw the blonde woman get into the car, and then he saw his father get in too. And then it drove away. And that was the last time Michael Abbot ever saw his father.

  Annabelle cried again, much worse than she had before. Michael closed the door now, terrified.

  It was only thirty minutes later, but it seemed like an eternity. He heard the front door open, and then there was a knock on his door. It was Richard, already so tall and in his first pair of glasses. He smiled when he saw Michael, but then his face fell. "What’s wrong champ?" Michael didn’t say anything. He just threw his arms around Richard and whimpered that he wanted his dad to come back.

  Richard was shushing Michael, telling him everything was going to be okay and that they were going to go to the Cape tomorrow when there was a knock on the front door. The children went out into the hall. Annabelle and Jim answered the door. It was a man in a policeman’s uniform wearing a big hat. He looked so serious. Michael couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he saw his mother crumple into his uncle’s chest. "Oh, God. Oh no! No, no, no, no! Stephen! Stephen!" Michael cried too, because he knew his father was never coming back now.

  CHAPTER 55

  Richard found Michael two hours after Miranda left, still cr
ying in his bedroom, clutching his hand to his chest. "Michael, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry." Michael couldn’t say anything. All he could do was cry more. Richard looked like he knew, like he understood. But no one, no one, was ever going to know how much he loved her.

  After another hour, Richard helped Michael into bed. Even in his sleep, Michael clutched the ring to his chest.

  ~~~

  Again Miranda found refuge at the beach on Magnolia. It was just a little warmer than it had been that night, the first night…. the first night with Michael. Miranda remembered how repulsed she’d been, how much she’d hated him and how she was using him because she hated herself. But now she would have given anything to go back to him again, even as he’d been.

  She curled herself up into a little ball on the beach. It was cold. She couldn’t move. She didn’t care. Maybe she would just die there. It didn’t matter to her if she couldn’t be with him.

  She heard footsteps on the beach. She knew who it was. She didn’t care. "Miranda," Alex said, kneeling next to her. "Come with me, you’re going to freeze."

  "I don’t care." She sobbed harder than she had so far. She felt sick again and dry heaved. "Go away. Go away. I wish you’d left me here when I was a little girl."

  "Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen, I swear to you." He put his arms around her, but now it meant nothing.

  CHAPTER 56

  Miranda woke up the next day in a strange but pretty white bedroom. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was before she remembered the beach and Alex. She rubbed her eyes. Alex had taken her to a bed and breakfast after much pleading. Miranda had been too tired to say no. She looked at the side table. There was a scone and some juice and tea. She sipped the juice, but she couldn’t touch anything else.

  There was a knock on the door. She knew who it was. "Come in," she sighed.