The Family You Choose (32 page)

~~~

It was almost twelve when Michael finally
called. "What are you doing now?"

"Just watching TV."

"What are you wearing?"

"Your blue pajama top and those boy briefs
you like so much."

"Mmm hmm," he said, and she laughed.

"What are you wearing?"

"My boxers."

"Mmm hmm," she said, and then he laughed.

"Turn off the TV."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to go into the
bedroom."

She smiled and turned off the TV. "Are you by
yourself now?"

"Since when do I like to share?"

She closed the bedroom door. "Now what?"

"Take off that shirt, for starters."

~~~

Emily met Miranda at noon the next day.
Miranda grinned when she saw Emily and threw her arms around her.
Emily hugged her back. She could feel how happy and warm Miranda
was. She wanted to run out right then.

"How is Mitch? Is he still excited about the
baby? Have you picked out any names? Zainab told me you were
feeling better. Was it like this for your mom? I think I read this
runs in families. Oh, Emily, I’ve missed you so much! I wanted to
call you so many times, but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to talk
to me."

"I missed you too, Miranda." She couldn’t
stop crying now. "I’m so sorry. I wish I’d seen you earlier."

Miranda took a deep breath. "Em, I
understand. I really do. I was never angry with you. I just hope—I
hope this means that you know things are good and that I’m happy.
He’s not the same person he was. I don’t know what Zainab and
Richard have told you, but—"

"Miranda, please stop!" Emily closed her eyes
miserably. "I have to tell you something. Alex Sheldon paid me a
surprise visit yesterday."

Miranda’s lip trembled. "Oh, Em." She looked
away. "Is that why you wanted to see me all of a sudden?"

"Yes—no. I missed you, I wanted to see you.
I...Alex wanted me to see you, but I don’t care what he wants. I
know he’s a monster. I don’t know how..." Emily started crying
again. "You’re too wonderful for both of them. I’m sorry to come
like this."

"Emily, what’s going on?" Miranda reached her
hand out to Emily. "He had no right to bother you, especially now,
and I’m going to tell him just that."

"I have to give you something, honey. I’m
telling you now how sorry I am, and I hope you remember that I love
you, and whatever happens now, I’m going to be there for you. I’m
so sorry I wasn’t before. Do you believe me?"

Miranda nodded her head, looking at her
wide-eyed. "What do you have for me?"

Silently weeping, Emily handed Miranda the
same two envelopes that Alex had given her yesterday. Like Emily,
Miranda opened the big one first. She seemed to understand what it
was more quickly, but was just as disbelieving as Emily had been
when she got to the end. "Alex gave you this?" she asked
incredulously.

Emily nodded mutely. She held Miranda’s eyes
for a moment before pushing the second envelope in front of her.
She forced herself not to blink as Miranda opened it.

Miranda read the small piece of paper once,
then again. Then again, and again. She looked up at Emily. "No,"
she said finally, but it was more a plea than a denial.

"Miranda, that’s what they look like."

"No..." She grabbed her stomach with one hand
and covered her mouth with another. She ran to the bathroom. Emily
grabbed the documents and followed her into the stall. She stayed
with her for ten minutes while Miranda vomited. Emily wiped her
hair and forehead just the way Mitch had when she’d been sick.

Miranda stood up and made her way to the
sink. She splashed her face with cold water. Emily ran out to get
her some ice water. Miranda drank it while she cried.

"Who else knows?"

Emily shook her head. "I don’t know. I didn’t
tell anyone."

"Please," she said weakly, "please take me to
Richard’s office."

They made it to Richard’s office near South
Station in less than twenty-five minutes. Miranda sobbed the whole
way there, and Emily cried with her as she stroked her hair. She
hated to be a part of this, but she would have hated herself more
if she had just let it go.

Emily had called Richard ahead of time. He
was waiting for them when they got there. He closed the door and
Emily handed him both documents. He held Miranda for twenty minutes
while she sobbed. "Did you know?"

Richard shook. "Miranda, sweetie, I had no
idea. No one ever said anything to me and even my family..." He
teared up too. "How long has Alex known?" he asked Emily.

Emily shook her head. "I don’t know. I didn’t
ask. I was too busy telling him off."

"Hopefully I can think of a few things you
didn’t say."

"Richard, please, please," Miranda pleaded.
"I need to know if this is true. Call your lawyers, track this
down. I need to know." She sobbed again. "Michael’s coming home
tonight." Emily, who still hated Michael almost as much as she
hated Drew Sharpe and Joe Welles, cried all over again at Miranda’s
misery.

Richard was on the phone for two hours. Emily
sent people away every time they knocked on his door. Miranda
didn’t move.

Richard put the phone down. The pained
expression on his face said it all. "The dates check out," he
managed at last. "The original beneficiary and originator...that’s
accurate. And the transition date...it fits."

"And that means the second document..."

"That would explain everything," Richard said
softly through his tears.

Miranda looked at the wall. "I need to go
home," she said in a monotone. "He’s coming home tonight."

Emily composed herself. She wasn’t being fair
spending so much time crying. "Do you want us to come with you?"
she asked gently.

Miranda shook her head. "No. Richard, can you
take me there? But then I need to be alone with him."

Richard hugged her and kissed her forehead.
"Whatever you want sweetheart. Always." She nodded, looking up at
him.

"Actually, I guess there is just one more
thing."

Richard dropped Miranda off at her house, and
he and Emily watched her walk in and then close the door.

"I’m sorry," Emily said. "I didn’t want to do
this. I didn’t hate Michael that much."

Richard nodded sadly. "It’s better that it
was you, Em. He would have made sure it was someone."

On that spring day in 1990, it had taken Alex
three hours to decide to finally do what he knew he was going to as
soon as he’d gotten off the phone with the older woman at Tatiana’s
house. Alex liked to take his time and make sure he made the right
decision. Because once he made a decision, it was final.

He marched over to Stephen’s house. Michael
answered the door. "Hello, Michael. Is your dad home?" Michael
shook his head silently. "Is your mom home?" Michael nodded. "Can I
come in and see her?" Michael didn’t say anything.

Alex bent down so he was right at Michael’s
level. "It’s very important that I speak to your mom, son. I think
they’d want you to let me in." Michael, still silent, sighed and
let Alex into his house. That was why Alex knew Michael would
always secretly blame himself for what happened next, even when he
was too old to remember exactly what he had done. But Alex had
always remembered.

Michael went to get his mother. Annabelle
came out a moment later. Her eyes blazed when she saw Alex. She
stopped herself from saying anything. "Honey, I want you to go to
your room now, alright? Why don’t you read that book about the
baseball players Uncle Jimmy got for you?"

"Mom, I don’t want—"

"Sweetheart, do what I’m telling you to do.
Right now." She cupped his chin in her hand and kissed his
forehead. "Right now." Michael nodded and slowly walked to his
room.

Annabelle led Alex into the living room and
closed the door. "You have a lot of nerve," she said at last. "How
dare you show your face here after what you did to my husband?
You’ve never done anything but leech off of him, and you repay his
generosity by hitting him? What kind of a man are you?"

"That isn’t really the question here," Alex
said coldly. "You should be more concerned with what kind of a man
your husband is."

Annabelle walked right up to Alex’s face. She
wasn’t afraid of him at all. That had always bothered Alex. "You
aren’t fit to clean his shoes. He is a better man in every measure.
He doesn’t bully people, he doesn’t use them, he doesn’t turn on
his friends. I’m proud to call him my husband."

"He’s no saint, Annabelle. You know it. He
doesn’t go out of his way to do anything. He just lets things
happen. Just falls into them. You love him because he’s weak and
you think he needs you— "

"He’s not weak."

"So then what does he need you for?"

"I guess you’ve never loved anyone, have
you?"

"And you’re sure Stephen loves you?"

"I’m positive. Despite every bit of poison
you injected into my family, I’m sure."

"Really? So where are Michael’s brothers and
sisters?"

"How dare you?"

"He wants more children, you don’t. Why is
that?"

Annabelle walked to the door and opened it.
"Get out."

"Because you know Stephen can barely keep it
together for the two of you, isn’t that right?"

Annabelle closed the door. "We can have
children anytime we want. We’re letting Michael enjoy being the
only child for now."

He snickered. "You just keep telling yourself
that."

"What do you want? Tell me, and then get
out."

"I think it’s time for you to know what kind
of a man your husband is."

"I know better than you do."

"No, sorry. I know you always wanted to win
that little competition, but you never stood a chance. And I’ve got
you now."

"You just keep telling yourself that."

"Where is he right now, Annabelle?" She
didn’t say anything. "You don’t know. That’s okay. I know. Do you
want to know?"

"Anything, Alex. I want to hear whatever you
have to say if that will get you to leave."

"He’s having an affair, Annabelle."

"You’re a lying piece of garbage."

"That may very well be the case, but I just
told you the truth. He’s having an affair, and you’ve already met
his mistress."

"You said your piece, now go."

"Don’t you want to know who it is?"

"I don’t care what you think, or what you
think you know."

"Sure you do. You want to know. You want to
know, because after I tell you, I’m going to leave, and I won’t
darken your doorstep again."

"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.

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."