The Family You Choose (23 page)

"So what would it mean if I chose you? What
would it mean if I said you and I could be together?"

He took her hand. "It would mean that I
wouldn’t be Boston’s most anything anymore," he said softly.

New tears, but underneath a smile. He hugged
her. "I mean it, darling. Just say the word, and I’ll give you the
biggest, most wonderful wedding Boston has ever seen."

She laughed a little bit. "Alex, there’s so
much you don’t know," she said. "And there would still be
Stephen..."

"I choose you," he whispered. "I choose you
over Stephen, over whatever else. I don’t care about any of it. But
then…" He looked away, and it was one of the few occasions in his
life at that point that his face darkened with shame. "You have to
promise that you’ll choose me too, over everything that comes with
me."

"Oh, Alex!" she took his face in her hands
and kissed him so well he couldn’t breathe. "Of course, of course,"
she whispered. "I’ve learned not to be picky."

He laughed, as he stroked her beautiful,
catlike face. "Are you sure? Should I tell you now so that you know
before you say yes to me?"

Tatiana shook her head. "Someday you’ll tell
me. And I’ll tell you. But right now, I just want this to be for
us." Then she pulled him back into her arms, and he came to them
willingly.

She got dressed half an hour later. He kissed
the crook of her neck as she put on her shoes. "When, my love?
When? When will you talk to Stephen? When will I see you?
When?"

She kissed him and stood up. "Soon, I
promise. I’ll find you. I’ll take care of it. But wait for me." She
kissed him one last time and then walked out of the room. It took
him another ten minutes to catch his breath, but he wasn’t sure
that he’d be whole until he saw her again.

It was Saturday again. Miranda woke up at
six, showered and dialed Richard’s cell phone number from Zainab’s
phone. She was very glad she hadn’t secured her own cell phone just
yet.

"Miranda, where the Hell are you?" Richard
said as soon as he picked up. She knew it must be three in the
morning where he was, but he didn’t scold her at all.

"Okay, so I guess Zainab had to reveal some
details."

"Some details? Jesus Christ, what the Hell is
wrong with you? Please tell me that every single sense I have has
betrayed me and you are not sleeping with Michael."

"I’m not right now."

"But you were...this week?" She could hear
him grasping for words. "Are you going to tell me about this, or am
I going to have to painfully put each piece together?"

"I will tell you every ugly detail, but I
need a favor; a big one."

"Talk."

"I want to get out of town for a few days. I
need to, alright? I can write you a check, but I’m too afraid of
Alex tracing it if I use an ATM. Can you wire me some cash and then
I’ll bring a check to Zainab?"

Richard laughed. "Are you planning on buying
a house?"

"No."

"Are you planning on buying a car?"

"Negative on that too."

"Then how about I just have the office issue
you one of our cards and you can pick it up on your way
to...wherever?"

"Did I mention that I love you?"

"I love you too, but the card requires you to
return."

"Of course, silly. And when I get back,"
Miranda said, sighing, "you and Zainab are going to help me figure
out what the Hell I’m going to do for the rest of my life."

"Oh yeah!"

"Richard—wait." Now she could think. "Not the
office, please. Can you have it sent to the airport?"

She packed a small bag and was just about to
leave when the phone rang. She glared at it but answered on the
third ring.

"What?" She knew who it was.

"You left your things." There was a pause.
"Where should I send them?"

"Throw them away, donate them to charity or
burn them. I don’t care." She slammed down the phone and buttoned
up her coat. It rang again. "What?!?"

"Aren’t you...don’t you have anything to say
to me?"

"Not now, not ever. Enjoy the rest of your
life, if you can." She hung up again. It rang again before she
could undo the lock, but she shook her head at it and walked
out.

She grabbed a cab using the last bit of cash
Michael had given her. Hurry, she thought. It was early enough that
they made good time to the airport. She stopped at the counter she
and Richard had agreed on and picked up her card. She then bought a
ticket for the shuttle leaving in thirty minutes. She paced,
waiting for the plane to board, constantly looking over her
shoulder. She clutched her bag once she was on the plane and they
were flying through the clouds. "It’s alright now," she whispered
to herself. "Everything is going to be alright."

~~~

Michael had spent the night alone. He’d sent
the girl out ten minutes after Miranda had left. He sat on the
couch for hours, telling himself he’d done the right thing. Then he
opened the Victoria’s Secret bag and held up the lingerie. He
closed his eyes and put it against his face. He found her clothes
and buried his face in them, inhaling her scent. Then he used them
to wipe up his tears.

He hadn’t slept. His bed seemed too big and
cold without her. He called Miranda as soon as he thought she might
be up. She didn’t pick up the third time. He threw the phone and
grabbed his car keys.

He drove to Zainab’s. The lights were out. He
called the number again and didn’t see anyone move.

He returned to his car and grabbed his
steering wheel. She wasn’t at his house; she wasn’t at Zainab’s.
She wouldn’t go back to Alex, she couldn’t go to Richard. She
didn’t have any money. Where would she go?

"Where is she?" Michael barked as soon as
Richard answered.

"I don’t know, but I can tell you that she’s
fine." Silence. "Michael, what have you done this time?"

"I didn’t...I just need to find her."

"After everything you’ve done, I didn’t think
it was possible for you to surprise me. Thank you for proving me
wrong. I guess I wouldn’t be much of a scientist if I put too much
value in untested certainties."

"How about you lecture me later and help me
find her now?"

"Why? What more can you do to her? Jesus
Christ—are you proud of yourself for using an ugly little secret
against her? Sorry, I’m not going to help you break her down even
more."

"Richard, please. You know...I’m not as bad
as everyone thinks I am."

"I did. Prove it by being satisfied with the
knowledge that she’s alright." Then Richard hung up.

He hadn’t gotten what he wanted from Richard,
but he did get tacit confirmation that he’d given Miranda money.
Richard was away, it was too early for the banks to be open. It
couldn’t have been cash. It must have been a credit card.
Where?

He wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t think of
anywhere else in Boston she could be. Then he remembered all the
times Miranda would escape to New York since Jessie had gone to
boarding school. He racked his brain, trying to remember some of
the names she’d said when he wasn’t supposed to be listening. Ten
minutes later, he thought he had a few.

Alex went to the tailor for his final
fitting. He could not escape this obligation, although he would
rather have jumped off the end of the earth than gone. But since he
had to go, he’d be sure to look as sharp as ever.

The tailor had just taken his final
measurements when Stephen walked in. He looked as if he’d been
crying. He looked as if he’d been drinking—more so than usual. He
slumped into a chair. "I wasn’t expecting to see you here."

He could tell from Stephen’s monotone that
Tatiana had spoken to him. He could also tell that Tatiana hadn’t
used his name. He admired her a little bit. More about her personal
dignity than lust for someone else. But he wished she’d said
something, because now he had to do it.

"Is everything alright?" Alex said as he took
off his suit, holding his breath.

Stephen looked up at the ceiling. "Just
saying goodbye to a dream, I guess."

"Which dream is that?"

Stephen looked straight at Alex. "The one
where I get to be the man I’m supposed to be. The one where I get
to be brave. The one where I get to do the right thing."

"I’m sorry." Alex genuinely meant it. "I’d
like to see you be that man too."

"Teach me, Alex," Stephen said, looking down
at the floor. "You seem to do it. You do it well. You get what you
want, you do what you have to, but you have a reason, most of the
time at least, right? You don’t do the things you do because you’re
a miserable, selfish bastard. You don’t do things because you like
hurting people. You’re not cruel."

"I...Steve, I just don’t have anything to
lose. I didn’t have your father," Stephen scoffed, still looking at
the ground. "I had to open all of my doors myself. And sometimes I
had to push. Sometimes I had to pick the locks. I’m not proud of
those moments, and believe it or not, sometimes that’s enough to
make me question what I really wanted in the first place."

"What are you trying to say?"

"You love your wife. You love your son. I
don’t think you should feel bad about not wanting anything as much
as you don’t want to lose them."

"They’re my life, Alex," Stephen said, tears
coming into his eyes. "Annabelle...I know you don’t like her, but
I’m not the husband she dreamed of. I’m hardly the husband her
father would have picked out for her. And you know how
discriminating she can be. But she has never, ever once told me
that I wasn’t good enough for her. She’s never regretted that I was
Michael’s father. I love my wife. She deserves whatever sacrifice
I've made to spare what little I’ve given her."

He had trouble swallowing. "She’s lucky. And
Michael’s lucky to have you too."

Stephen nodded slowly. "She’s my life, but
he’s the whole world. That’s what a child deserves from his
father." Before either of them could say anything else, the tailor
called Stephen. He left Alex to gather what was left of his
integrity and leave for home.

~~~

The Boston AIDS Ball of 1990 was the biggest
event Annabelle Hendrickson Abbot had ever been responsible for.
She had had to work every connection she had, including her
sister-in-law Lucy Bartolome Hendrickson, for the privilege of
chairing and organizing the benefit. It had been worth it. Within
an hour, everyone in the grand ballroom was buzzing that it was the
best party Boston had had in over a decade.

Stephen too seemed to have put aside the
damp, sour mood he’d had for the last few weeks. He was always good
in a crowd—sometimes too much so—but tonight he seemed genuinely
happy. He danced with her, and he looked at her the way he did when
they’d been dating years before: before Michael, before the
marriage, before Alex’s intrusion into her life. Tonight they were
happy, and she was going to make sure they stayed happy.

Suddenly, Stephen stopped dancing and his
face turned white. She turned in the direction he was staring in.
There was Alex. She sighed. Aristocratizing bastard. He was with
his newest conquest, although Annabelle had to admit, she was much
more attractive and much more in place at this benefit than many of
Alex’s other companions.

Stephen moved toward them as if he were about
to say something. Annabelle followed. "Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs.
Abbot? Can I get a picture?"

"It’s the photographer from Boston Magazine,"
Annabelle whispered, and Stephen put his arm around her while the
photographer snapped his picture. Beneath her smile, Annabelle
noticed that he was looking at Alex kissing his companion’s
forehead.

As soon as the photographer moved, Stephen
stormed over to Alex and his friend. "What the Hell are you two
doing?" Annabelle was shocked. She’d never seen Stephen so angry,
and she’d never seen him lose control like that in public. Not a
good night to break that habit.

Annabelle plastered a smile on her face as
she turned to the crowd, and then turned to her husband. "Dear,
maybe you and Alex can have this conversation in one of the smaller
rooms?"

Stephen, seething, looked at his wife as if
he didn’t see her. She raised her eyebrows. "Please?" she asked
calmly. He took a deep breath, nodded. "This way, please." Alex
left with Stephen, and Alex’s companion smiled at Annabelle. It was
such a strange look, as if she’d been waiting for the chance to
speak to her.

"I don’t think we’ve been introduced,"
Annabelle said graciously, holding out her hand. "I’m Annabelle
Abbot."

"Oh, I know, pleased to meet you." The pretty
woman shook Annabelle’s hand. She seemed very charming. "I’m
Tatiana Hamilton. You did a wonderful job tonight."

"Why, thank you. I must say, I’m glad Alex
picked tonight to finally show some good taste in a date. I hope
we’ll see you more often."

Tatiana beamed. "Yes, I hope so too."

~~~

Stephen had kicked the staff out of one of
the coat check rooms. He grabbed Alex by the tuxedo lapels their
tailor had worked so hard on this week. "What do you think you are
doing?" Alex smelled Stephen’s breath. He was sober.

"What did you think was going to happen?"
Alex said. "Did you think you could throw her away and then expect
that no one else would…"

"Throw her away? And no one else…" Stephen
searched Alex’s face as if he were looking for something. "Are you
everyone else now?" He threw Alex off. "How dare you?"

Alex adjusted his jacket. "Let’s back up,
shall we? Where do you get off being so indignant after what you
did to your wife?"

"Since when are you in Annabelle’s cheering
section?"

"That’s irrelevant to the fact that you were
screwing around on her."