by Becker Gray
Keaton: Meet me by the Giant Oak? We’ll have a picnic away from the prying eyes.
Iris: Keaton Constantine, well, aren’t you romantic?
Keaton: I plan to try to feel you up in the great outdoors.
Iris: LOL, you’re ridiculous.
I wasn’t sure why she thought I was joking, but if I would get to see her and make her smile, I would take it.
Keaton: I’m only half kidding. But I can’t wait to see you smile.
She sent a photo of her looking sleepy and bed rumpled with a huge smile on her face.
Keaton: Day made.
I pushed out of bed, still bleary-eyed, grabbed some clothes and a towel, and headed towards the bathroom when my phone buzzed again. Like the completely pussy-whipped jackass that I was, I ran to grab it. Because what if she sent me another kind of photo entirely?
Sure, you tell yourself that. Mostly, knowing she could have texted you just makes you smile.
Yeah, it did. And it was alarming. When I picked it up with a shit-eating grin on my face, I paused when I saw who it was. My mother.
Mom Monster: I’ve decided to come to campus after all today for Parents’ Weekend. I’ll meet you for lunch with Clara and her parents.
What the fuck?
Could I get away with pretending I hadn’t seen it?
Mom Monster: Also, I can see you’ve read this. So acknowledge.
Fuck read receipts. There’s nothing more passive-aggressive to my mother than reading a message and not replying immediately.
Keaton: Sorry, Mom. Busy.
Lies.
Mom Monster: I’m here. It is Parents’ Weekend, so I know there’s no games or practices, and there’s nothing else on your agenda. I’ll see you at 12:30.
Fuck. I didn’t even bother with texting. Instead I picked up the phone and called Clara. “What the hell?”
She groaned. “You got the text too.”
“Yeah, what the fuck? I had plans today.”
She paused for a moment. “With the new girl?”
“She’s none of your business,” I said—politely but also firmly. I knew she’d been on Iris’s case and that was stopping right now. “And make sure she stays that way. No more threats, okay?”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. I was just trying to keep up the front, you know? And she didn’t even seem like your type.”
“And who is? You?”
“Harsh much?”
I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. “Sorry. You’re not the enemy, they are.”
“Tell me about it. I was supposed to see Charlie. He got into Duke. So as luck would have it, we’ll be at school together next year.” She sounded so happy. That kind of elation was unusual for her. But she was always that happy when she talked about him.
“Congrats. I am happy for you.”
There was another beat of silence. “Did you just express emotion and empathetic joy for another person?”
“Don’t get too excited.”
“Wow, new girl—sorry—Iris is good for you then. You seem almost happy too.”
“Well, I’m not happy about today. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t think we have any choice. We have to go.”
“But I don’t want to.”
She sighed, “Keaton, all you have wanted all this time is for your mother to pay attention to you. To show up for you. She’s doing that. I’m sure Iris will understand.”
That was just the thing. Iris would understand. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to go. But I couldn’t deny that little ball of light at the idea that my mother had come. For Parents’ Weekend. And I hadn’t even asked.
“Yeah, okay, that’s a good point.”
“Look, I know our parents aren’t really the ones to give us hope and shit. But maybe this is good. I mean my parents always come, so I’m just praying that with your mother there they’re not going to harangue me about my choice to go to Duke—if I get in, obviously—and not Harvard.”
“Duke’s at least still a good school though.”
“Yeah, but it’s not prestigious enough for Mommy.”
“Well, good thing you have your own trust fund and you don’t have to listen to her.”
“Thank God for little miracles.”
“Look, I’ll see you at 12:30, yeah?”
I hung up with Clara while trying to figure out what the hell I was going to say to Iris. But in the end, all I could do was tell her the truth. She picked up on the first ring. “Hey. Are you about to get in the shower thinking about me?”
The smile pulled at my lips, and I couldn’t help it. “I had been thinking about that shower in New York.”
“Me too. So how does this work? Why isn’t this video? It’s a lot better if I can see you touching yourself.”
I coughed a laugh. I had created a monster. “Actually, there’s a change of plan today. I’m really sorry.” I wasn’t used to apologizing. Usually people apologized to me. While I withheld emotion one way or another.
“Oh, what’s up?”
“My mother showed up.”
There was a beat of silence. “Your mother?”
“Yeah, I know. Shocking right?”
“Hell yeah. But that’s actually a big deal.”
I sighed. “Yeah, that’s what Clara said.”
This time there was a longer pause. “Clara?”
Fuck. Should not have said that. “Yeah, my mom is insisting on lunch with her family. So I called her to find out if we could weasel out.”
“Oh.”
That one word carried the weight of so many sentences. So many orations. A whole goddamn Julius Caesar speech. Just with an oh.
“You know it’s not like that.”
“No, I know. I just still hate that you get to spend the afternoon with her. And not with me.”
“Trust me, I’d rather be spending it with you.” And that was the truth. I wanted to spend every moment with her. We luckily had the excuse of our project for another month. But I wanted to spend all the time in the world with her.
I wasn’t going to tell her that yet though. She was dead set on Paris, and I didn’t want to change her plans. I also didn’t want to scare her off. But she, Iris Briggs, and I were endgame. And I wanted to ease her into the idea of that. “I’m sorry, Iris.”
“It’s okay. I’m not insecure or jealous. Okay, a little jealous, but I get it. Did she have plans with—what is that guy’s name again? Charlie?”
“Yeah. So she’s in the same boat as us.”
“Charlie and I should form a support group.”
“We probably could go out together if you wanted to.”
“I think it’s going to be a minute before Clara and I are, like, you know, friends-friends.”
“Yeah, I get that. But I’m really sorry. I’ll make this up to you tomorrow. Okay? That’s just about enough time for my mother to get bored of me.”
“Okay. Look, it’s fine, honestly. I get it. I have some reading I want to catch up on. And there’s a lot of stuff I need to do to edit the photos, picking out the best ones, seeing which ones work for the illustrated double exposure.”
“I wanted to do that with you.”
“We will. I’m just going to do the preliminary sifting. The dregs of the work. You’d hate that stuff. It’s boring.”
She had a point there. But still, I didn’t want to make her do it all by herself. “Are you sure?”
“Oh my god, Keaton. It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow. Hell, if you’re up tonight, call me. I might even sneak out of my room.”
I clutched a hand to my chest as I gasped. “Oh my god, Iris Briggs, what have I done to you?”
“You have just encouraged my inner bad girl to come out and play.”
“I am so here for that. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you,” I said then hung up.
For a moment after I hung up, the words hung in the air, practically still echoing against the walls.
What.
The.
Fuck.
The words had just tumbled out of my mouth, unexpectedly. As if I had meant to say them all along. What was she thinking? What did I just do?
My mother sent a text.
Mom Monster: Do not be late.
Mom Monster: I’m serious.
Jesus Christ. I had to go. Excellent.
I’d deal with Iris and the three little words later.
Lunch was not nearly as terrible as I thought it would be. My mother was in a mellow mood. Actually, a pretty good one.
There was laughing, there was talking. Mom touched my arm and said she was proud of me—as she chattered about my grades and rugby season and how it was going to be amazing and how I not only had scouts looking at me, but from the UK and New Zealand teams. Which was true. But how did she know all of that?
She’s a Constantine, I reminded myself. There was no way she wasn’t keeping tabs on me here at school.
It was strange how I was almost warmed by it, even if it meant she’d delegated taking an interest in me to someone else. But it still showed she cared.
The Blairs seemed dutifully impressed, and then conversation segued off into the usual Bishop’s Landing gossip and travel talk, which was always the same. Someone sleeping with someone else, so-and-so getting ready for their trip to the Seychelles, the Morellis are sniffing around some development opportunities on our side of the city, etc.
My mother was shockingly pleasant the entire time. Even her normally cool eyes were warm, and her smile—only rarely bestowed—was out in full force as she charmed the Blairs. As she charmed me.
This was the mother I had seen only glimpses of in the past five years, this was the mother I remembered from before Dad’s death. This was what it felt like to be fully her son, someone who had value in the here and now, and not just as Winston’s clone someday. Maybe…maybe I’d been too hard on her?
If she was making an effort now, then shouldn’t I as well?
We took her car back to campus after lunch, and as I watched the red and gold trees flash by the window as the driver sped down the highway, my mother cleared her throat. I looked across to where she sat next to me, calmly studying her pale pink nails.
“How are you and Clara doing together? Have you thought any more about carrying this relationship into college? Beyond?”
All the happiness, all the light that I’d been feeling earlier began to dim. A bitter taste crawled up my throat. “That is not going to happen.”
My mother pinned me with a cool look. “We need it to happen. The Blairs are thinking about expanding their portfolios with investments in WC Tech—but it’s the kind of deal that only happens with an ironclad family tie in place, which is why we don’t need any broken hearts complicating things.”
“That’s not what this is. I’m not breaking Clara’s heart.”
The look got even cooler. “Can’t you see your family needs you? All I’m asking is that you try to make things last with Clara.”
Clara. Right. That was the only reason she’d come. For the Blairs and their money. I was such a fucking idiot. I’d thought she’d come for me. For once. I thought she’d turned up for me.
“I don’t love her,” I said finally. “And she doesn’t love me.”
“Love is not the only thing that makes a marriage,” my mother responded, pushing her fingertips against her temple as if she was getting a headache. “Take it from me. Your father and I—we had a strong partnership. A good partnership. And we did love each other. But when that love grew . . . complicated . . . what kept us together was the family and what the family needed. I’ve made sacrifices too—more than plenty—to make sure that there is a legacy for you and your brothers and sisters to carry on. Because that’s what being a Constantine means; that’s what it looks like to grow up and succeed in a world hell-bent on tearing you down.”
I stared back at her. “I want to help, but I’m not Winston, Mom. I can’t be blood on the family altar.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be dramatic. All I’m asking is for you to think about your father’s legacy. What he died for—what he was killed for. We can’t let that sacrifice go to waste.”
By the time we parked in visitors’ parking, I was in a hell of a mood.
I wanted to tell Mom everything about me and Clara and Charlie and Iris so then it would all be out in the open, and I could just be with the girl I loved. But I also wanted to make my mother proud and honor my father’s legacy.
I wanted my own life.
But I also didn’t want to fuck over my brothers and sisters.
I climbed out of the car and then helped Mom out, watching as she straightened her dress and smoothed her hair. The sun accentuated the tiny lines by her eyes and mouth, and caught the thin strands of silver threading through the blond, making them gleam.
She was still beautiful, Caroline Constantine, but it struck me then that she was getting older. That she might be tired from steering a family that walked a razor-thin line between prosperity and utter destruction. That she might truly and genuinely need my help—not because she was controlling or cold, but because the work of running the Constantine family was too big for one person alone.
“Do you remember how your father loved the sea?” Mom asked as we walked towards the stone stairs where Clara and her parents waited for us. Her voice was no longer cool, but wistful, and a little bit sad.
“Yeah.”
“Every time he’d get to Bishop’s Landing, it wouldn’t matter how late it was or if we had guests waiting—he’d go right through that back door into the gardens and stare at the ocean. As if he wasn’t really home until he saw it.”
I remembered. It’s why I’d sketched him that day, wanting to capture an image that was so indelible to my childhood. The image of Lane Constantine looking out onto the water, wind ruffling his hair, his shoulders and back relaxing as the business of the day or week melted from his body. He was no longer a billionaire, a mogul, and emperor ruling over an empire of both legal and less-than-legal realms, but a husband about to go kiss his wife on the cheek. He was a father about to hug all his children and ruffle their hair and ask about their day at school.
He was a man at home.
My throat closes at the memory; my eyes burn at the thought of him.
Fuck, I miss him.
My mother continued. “Your father loved the sea because it meant he was home. But that home won’t be there for the next generation of Constantines unless we safeguard it. I know I can count on you.” Her voice started to break when she added, “You’re such an amazing son. He would have been so proud to see you now.”
These words—words that I’d wanted to hear for years. My throat clenched even harder.
“Mom?”
“I love you, Keaton,” she said, eyes shining. She blinked fast, swallowing it. “He loved you. Anything I’ve asked of you hasn’t been about control . . . it’s been about love.”
“I—” I stared at her.
It had been so long since I could really remember feeling her love, so long since I’d felt the glow of being her son all for myself, instead of feeling jealous and resentful that my brothers and sisters soaked up all her attention.
I couldn’t marry Clara. I couldn’t even date her in college. But to keep pretending for now, until I could make my mom understand? Until Clara was ready to come clean about Charlie?
What could it hurt?
It will hurt Iris.
But my mother would be gone soon, and then Clara and I would resume our usual pattern of staying out of each other’s way, and Iris and I could get back to us.
“I can keep trying with Clara for now.”
She touched my shoulder. “Thank you, Keaton. This means the world.”
Subconsciously, I glanced around for Iris, searching the crowds for her smile. Just seeing her smile would stop this ugly churn of doubt and flattered desperation inside me.
You told Iris you love her, and now you’re
agreeing to pretend to love someone else. You’re really ready to see her right now?
Okay. No, not really.
And I knew she would be making herself scarce anyway. This was Parents’ Weekend. Her parents would be busy playing host to all the visitors. And this time she wouldn’t be needed to help, since most parents would be wanting to talk to the headmaster about grades and behavior—nothing she could help with or was even allowed to hear. She was all alone today.
But I was glad she wasn’t around to see what I was going to do.
This is a bad idea. You don’t want to do this.
No, I didn’t. But neither could I relinquish the feeling of my mother’s love and pride in me so easily.
But Iris. . .
But this was just for today . . . just for the year. Until Clara went to Duke with Charlie, until I got my first stage of trust fund money. Why shouldn’t I get to enjoy this version of my mother for a while longer? Why shouldn’t I get to feel what it was like to be Winston and always do the right thing?
When we approached Clara and her parents on the stairs, Clara gave me a smile. And her mother clapped her hands. “Let’s get a picture of the happy couple together.”
Automatically, my arms wrapped around Clara’s waist, and I pulled her against me in a pose we had practiced a million times.
My gaze flickered up. For once I had Mom’s approval. Her attention.
And that felt so very, very close to being cared about. Like she finally gave a shit that I was her son.
I turned and gave Clara a tight smile.
She frowned and lifted a dark brow. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I whispered. The fear and pride and the need to please my mom mixed together inside me, like a whirlpool of toxic chaos. All I’d ever wanted was to be a real part of this family, to prove I had value, and now I had my in. My chance.
With every muscle tense and every nerve thrumming like I was going into battle, I leaned in and kissed Clara. Not just a regular kiss. But the kind of kiss that left no argument about our relationship.