by Amy Vastine
Max’s presence brought it all back no matter how nice he was or how positively Simon was responding to him. He was making it impossible to ignore the hurt she’d worked so hard to hide.
Emma thought it was a fabulous idea to spend more time with Max. She had talked to one of the child psychologists at the hospital, who said anything they could do to help “generalize Simon’s communication behaviors into other speaking situations” was highly desirable. She thought Kendall and Simon should start spending as much time with Max as possible.
Lucy, on the other hand, was beginning to wonder what Kendall wasn’t telling her, and it wouldn’t be long before her older sister figured out there were secrets yet to be told. People believed Trevor was a good man who did no wrong, that he was a dedicated marine, an attentive father and a loving husband. There was no way Kendall wanted anyone to think any different. He had been a good father and an excellent marine. She was not about to speak ill of the dead.
“This is so close to your place,” Emma said as they climbed the steps outside Max’s three-flat. It was the only building on the street with a bright red door, making it easy to find.
“Too close,” Lucy said, reading Kendall’s mind.
Kendall had brought her sisters with her because she thought it was the best way to prevent them all from staying too long. The psychologist had also said the more people Simon spoke in front of, the better. Since meeting Max, Simon had taken to speaking in front of Lucy and Emma quite regularly. Kendall wanted that to continue.
“You want to press the button?” Emma asked Simon, who nodded gleefully. She helped him find the name Max Jordan and he rang the bell.
The yucks were having a field day in Kendall’s stomach. They needed to get in and get out. Pick out a box that would work for a costume and go back home.
The door buzzed and Emma held it open for an eager Simon. There was no turning back. Kendall followed everyone up the stairs, her feet heavier with every step.
Max’s neighbor stumbled out of his condo just as they hit the second floor. He was dressed in navy, and the Chicago Fire Department emblem on his jacket had a paramedic patch underneath it.
He said hello to Simon, who didn’t reply. “You guys headed up to see Floor Three?” he asked.
Emma stepped up behind her nephew, placing her hands on his little shoulders. “The guy who lives on floor three.”
Max’s neighbor squinted and pointed at Emma. “You look familiar. Do you work—”
“At St. Joseph’s? Yeah, I’m an ER nurse over there. What station are you from?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Paramedic, I see,” she said nodding at the patch on his jacket.
“Yep.” His smile somehow widened. “I drive 43.”
Emma bit her lip and tucked some hair behind her ear. “The triage nurses talk about you.”
Tall, Dark and Enamored’s eyes widened. “Good things, I hope.”
“They like you a lot.”
“Cool.”
The two smiling fools stood on the landing with a restless Simon waiting in between. Lucy, rolling her eyes, huffed and gave her youngest sister a push. “We need to get up there.”
“Oh yeah, of course. Sorry.” The neighbor stepped back into his condo and made room for them to pass. “Maybe I’ll see you around, Nightingale,” he said, keeping his eyes on Emma as they all headed up. “Tell Floor Three I said hi.”
Max was waiting in his doorway. A faint shadow of stubble darkened his jaw. His sights, unlike his neighbor’s, were firmly set on Kendall.
“You guys met Charlie, I hear.”
“He says hi, Floor Three,” Kendall said, pushing her nerves aside.
Max had a dimple on his right cheek when he smiled big. “His nicknames for people need some work.”
Kendall slipped into the apartment, holding her breath so she didn’t smell him. He was bound to smell good, since his hair was slightly wet like he’d just showered. She was sticking to her plan of getting in and out fast. She couldn’t give in to any pull he had over her.
“You ready to test-drive some vehicles, little man?” he asked, waving his hand toward a stack of boxes. Lucy and Emma helped Simon choose the perfect one for his costume.
“It’s really nice of you to do this,” Kendall said.
“No problem. I had a bunch of these lying around. Might as well put one of them to good use. I’m just going to toss the rest.” He folded his arms across his chest, making the muscles in his forearms more defined.
Great. Now she could add nice arms to the list. Certainly there had to be some very not-nice things about him. Everyone had not-nice parts. Didn’t they? A little voice in her head reminded her that people didn’t always show their true selves until you were in too deep. She didn’t want to get too deep only to be disappointed. She certainly couldn’t let that happen to Simon.
She turned her head away from Max and toward a console bookcase filled with record albums. He had quite a collection. A record player sat on top in between two enormous speakers that could probably cause some serious hearing damage.
Her grandmother used to play music on a turntable when the girls were little. The three of them would dance around her living room to “Dancing Queen” by ABBA and Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline.”
“Does it work?” she asked.
“Like it’s new. My music is the one thing I’m really good at taking care of.”
Trevor didn’t have much interest in music. When Kendall was in high school and throughout college, she went to dozens of concerts with her friends and sisters. When she met Trevor, that all stopped. He had a passion for fast cars and NASCAR races. Kendall had watched more cars drive around a track than she cared to admit.
She hadn’t realized how much of herself she’d given up for Trevor until she moved back to Chicago. At the time, she had thought she’d been compromising. Marriage was about give and take. Somewhere along the line, though, Kendall had become the only one giving.
“What about this one?” Lucy said holding a large rectangular box around Simon’s middle. “Not too big, not too small.”
“Just right,” Emma added.
“Let’s paint it now!” Simon shouted. “Please, Mom.”
This was better than she expected. In and out in under five minutes. She had needlessly worried about how difficult it would be to get him to leave.
“Okay, let’s go. Tell Mr. Jordan thank you.” Calling him Max was too comfortable. Simon shouldn’t get too attached.
“Thank you, Mr. Jordan,” he repeated, stepping out of the bottomless box. “Can you come paint the car with us?”
Max’s face registered surprise. Feeling panicked, Kendall jumped in. “Let’s not bother Mr. Jordan any more than we have.”
“Please, Mom.” He stood before them and tugged on his mother’s arm.
“We were going to get some lunch with your aunts,” she tried.
“Can you come get lunch with us?” Simon asked Max, his blue eyes full of hope.
Max looked unsure but unwilling to hurt a little boy’s feelings. “I don’t want to intrude.”
Kendall felt the rug pulled out from under her. How could she not invite him without seeming like a jerk? Why couldn’t he have said he’d already eaten or had other plans?
“You’re more than welcome to join us, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to come. Simon will get over it.”
“No, I won’t,” Simon said.
She tipped her chin down and gave him a look. “Yes, you will.”
“I won’t, Mom. Please come, Max.” Simon jumped up and down in front of them and grabbed both of their hands. “Please, please, please, please.”
Max looked over at Kendall, who was sure she was bright red due to the extreme embarrassment mixed
with her growing anger. “Only if you’re sure,” he said.
She was sure about a few things. She was sure this was a mistake, that she was going to regret this, and that Simon would now think jumping up and down, begging and whining was the best way to get what he wanted.
“I’m sure.”
* * *
AN AWKWARD LUNCH ENSUED. Simon would only talk when the waitress wasn’t in the general vicinity of their table and stopped altogether when another group of people were seated next to them. Max was great with him, though. When he picked up on Simon’s silence, he switched to drawing pictures back and forth on his place mat with him.
Things got even more uncomfortable when they headed back to Kendall’s house. She realized on the walk over that there were pictures of Trevor all over the place inside. Even though she had mentioned the resemblance, she hadn’t been specific about the fact that he looked exactly like him.
It also didn’t help that Emma had other plans and Lucy got a call from someone in her animal-rights group to go protest outside a pet store that bought puppies from a puppy mill. Kendall secretly wished Max would try to get out of painting the box.
When they got home, she had the boys wait outside. Box painting was an outdoor activity. Maybe she wouldn’t have to invite Max in at all. While she gathered up all the necessary materials for costume construction, she spent a minute hiding the more obvious pictures of Trevor, just in case.
She was snagging the photo of him in his dress blues when Simon came bursting through the front door. “Mom! Don’t forget the tinfoil for the bumper!”
Hiding the frame behind her back, she tried to act casual. “Got it. I’ll be out in a minute. Stay out there with Mr. Jordan, okay?”
“He says I can call him Max. Can I call him Max?”
Of course he said that. Kendall was failing miserably at keeping this relationship from getting too personal. “You can call him Max if he’s really all right with it. Now, get outside.”
He smiled like she’d bought one of those puppies Lucy was worried about and shouted, “He’s all right with it. Hurry, Mom!”
Simon closed the door behind him. It was a glimpse of the little boy she’d been missing since his father died, and it made her happy and terrified at the same time.
How long would Max want to hang out with some woman and her kid? There was no way there could be anything more than friendship between him and her. It seemed unlikely he’d stick around unless things went to another level, and that wasn’t going to happen. Kendall had too much emotional baggage for any man, let alone one who looked like Trevor. Kendall’s feelings for her husband were complicated at best. There was little hope of her ever resolving them now that he was gone. That left someone who looked like him up a creek without a paddle when it came to winning her affections.
Satisfied that Max would not see a picture of Trevor if he came in to use the bathroom, she grabbed the painting supplies and headed outside. Max and Simon were trying to decide where to attach the straps Simon would have to wear over his shoulders.
“What are you going to name your car?” Max asked.
Simon’s face scrunched up. “I have to name it?”
“All the cool guys name their cars. It’s a thing. I don’t have a car anymore, but my last car was named Candy because she was red and so sweet.”
“You had a girl car?” Simon’s eyes were the size of quarters.
“All cars are girls.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
Simon couldn’t believe his ears. He needed his mother to verify this insanity. “Mom, did you know cars are girls?”
Kendall covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laugh and nodded.
“I’m naming mine Lulu.”
Kendall chuckled a little louder. Her sister would love having a car named after her, especially that name. “You might not want to tell Aunt Lucy that.”
The three of them got busy painting and embellishing the costume. Their collective laughter created a lightness Kendall hadn’t felt in a long time. Seeing Simon act like a normal six-year-old freed her from the year’s worth of guilt and worry she’d been carrying around. This wasn’t like having Trevor around. It was better.
Max came up with the idea of using a Frisbee as the steering wheel. He cut a hole in it and attached it to a paper towel tube that Simon had way too much fun unrolling. Max painted Simon’s nose red and Max returned the favor by painting a white smiley face on Max’s knee.
With the help of a lot of duct tape and some imagination, they created the coolest red sports car, complete with white flames on the sides. Kendall took pictures with her phone until Simon couldn’t stand still another minute.
“We rocked that thing. My mother would be proud,” Max said, grinning from ear to ear.
“It’s pretty awesome,” Kendall agreed as they watched Simon run up and down the sidewalk, pretending he was in the Daytona 500.
Max looked at his paint-covered hands. “Can I use your bathroom to wash up?”
Although she’d been prepared for him to ask, the request still racked her nerves. Her shoulders stiffened. “Sure, we can all go in for a minute.” She called Simon over and they left the car on the porch to finish drying.
Kendall let Simon show Max where he could clean up so she could scan the main floor for any other pictures of Trevor. Her heart raced. This was more stressful than presenting a design to a room full of her toughest clients. She climbed up on the couch and took down the photo collage that hung above it, hiding it behind the cushions. She sat down and held her head in her hands. Hiding all evidence of Trevor’s existence was ridiculous and she knew it.
“Mom, can Max stay for dinner?” Simon skipped around the room, too excited for his own good.
“No, honey. Max probably needs to go home.”
“He doesn’t. His son lives with his mommy and Max doesn’t have a wife. He’s all alone. We should let him stay here for dinner. No one likes to eat dinner by themselves. I hate being by myself.”
He was so sweet, and she appreciated his empathy, but there was no way she could ask Max to stay. She’d have a heart attack before the night was over from the stress of it all. Plus, Simon didn’t need to get too attached. Once the job at Sato’s was finished, it was unlikely they’d have anything to do with Max again. She had to protect her son from being disappointed later.
“Not tonight, Simon.”
“But—”
“No buts. No. It’s my final answer.”
Simon glared at her. Her tenderhearted boy disappeared. “You’re mean, Mommy.”
“Hey, be nice to your mom. She helped make you the best costume in town.” Max strolled down the hallway toward the family room. It felt strange to have him in this house. Trevor had never lived here, even though the ghost of his memory haunted it daily.
Max’s eyes roamed the room. Kendall could only hope that as he scoped the place out he didn’t notice things like the random nails sticking out of the wall or the unusual way the photographs on the mantel were spread out.
“Bye, Max. Mommy says you have to go home now.” Simon sounded so dejected.
Max looked to Kendall and then patted Simon on the head. “I do have to head home, bud. But I’ll see you around, right?”
Simon brightened. “Maybe you can come trick-or-treating with me.”
Max paused. Kendall didn’t know if she should hope for a yes or a no. Both had their pros and cons. He stared at her as if trying to read her mind. It almost made her laugh because everything in her head was one big jumbled mess. If he could figure out what she wanted, she’d be thankful.
“Sure, why not? If that’s okay with your mom.” He checked for her reaction, but she still didn’t know how to feel about it. Part of her was relieved he didn’t disappoint Simon an
d the other feared this only meant he’d let the kid down later, when he was completely attached.
“That’s really nice of you,” she said, getting to her feet.
Max rubbed his hands together and clapped once. “Great. I can’t wait to see you and Lulu tear this neighborhood up.”
“Yeah!” Simon pumped his fist in the air.
Kendall moved closer. “Thanks again for your help today.”
“No problem,” he said, turning and making his way back to the front door.
“Wait!” Simon headed for the stairs. “I need to show Max something. Don’t go home yet.”
They waited in the front hall for him. Kendall relaxed a bit. She was so close to successfully preventing any additional awkwardness. Max slid his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. The white paint on his right knee made her smile.
“I had a really good time today,” he said, rocking back on his heels.
“Us, too.” Kendall cleared her throat. It had been fun making the costume. They’d laughed and worked together. No one had bossed anyone around. “You are so good with him. He likes you a lot.”
“I like him, too. He’s a great kid, Kendall. Really great.”
Simon came barreling down the stairs, jumping all the way to the bottom from three steps up. He was such a boy.
“Here’s a picture of my dad’s car. I don’t know what her name was. My dad never told me.” Simon handed Max a photo and the moment Max looked at it, Kendall knew which picture it was—Trevor and that obnoxious yellow Mustang.
Max paled and his hand began to shake ever so slightly. The resemblance was surely frightening. He handed the photo back to Simon. Kendall watched as his breathing became more labored. Finally, his eyes lifted to hers. She saw the shock and felt the questions begging to be asked.
“Baby, why don’t you go take this back upstairs. I’m going to walk Max out.”
“Bye, Max.” Simon took off, oblivious to the bomb he had dropped on his new friend.
Max didn’t return the farewell. She wasn’t sure he would ever be able to speak again. She pulled open the door and stepped outside, hoping he’d follow.