The Family You Choose (7 page)

"Really, Miranda," he said, continuing to
lean into the door. "You think you can take me?"

"I think you’d better make sure that you
don’t get a chance to find out whether or not I can."

"Right," he sneered. "Because you’re all of,
what, one-hundred twenty pounds? I’m shaking."

"Shake or don’t. But let me ask you
something: if you were able to take me, how long do you think it
would be before Alex finally did something?" A look passed over
Michael’s face. It was the same look from that summer a few years
ago. Miranda took a deep breath. "You know, that’s such a great
idea, maybe I should be the one getting in your face from now on.
Let’s see how long it takes for you to fight back. Let’s see how
long it takes for you to win. And then let’s see how long it takes
for you to finally get out of my life."

Michael took a deep breath too, and Miranda
wasn’t sure what he was thinking. "No," he said finally, shaking
his head as he took her in. "You’re not like that."

"Maybe not," she said, "but you keep pushing
me, and I can be. Now, please, get out of my way." He looked at
her. She looked back. He moved and even opened the door for her.
"Yeah, thanks," she said, forcing herself to leave the room
slowly.

Miranda met Emily at Richard’s Christmas
party. She thought she was gracious and sweet. She could see why
Richard would like her; she really did want to know about the
stupid Solar Car Richard was so obsessed with. When they told her
that Michael was coming and she refused to leave, she understood
why Jessie liked her. Miranda liked her too, and that’s why she
wanted to make sure Emily left too. She wasn’t going to let Michael
take one more friend from her.

Miranda glared while Richard offered Michael
coffee and some food to help absorb all the alcohol in his system.
She shuddered when she saw Jessie, of all people, pour him some
coffee. No, that was just too much. She grabbed the coffee from
Jessie and told Richard’s friends to stay with her.

She handed Michael the coffee. "Here. Sober
up," she said.

He gulped it down black then smacked his
lips. "Joining us for a little yuletide cheer? I didn’t think you
went that way."

"It’s true, this isn’t my special holiday
you’re ruining, and I’m afraid you missed Chanukah and Passover
this year."

"It’s so hard to keep up with that irregular
calendar."

"You have no idea how much it pleases me to
hear that you don’t approve."

"That can’t be true," Michael said, and the
way he looked at her, Miranda wondered how drunk he really was. "No
one goes so out of their way to be nice if they’re not trying to
get people to like them."

"Nice," she said, nodding a little bit.
"Maybe I do go out of my way to make up for things I can’t fix. But
what’s your excuse?" Then she left the room before he could
answer.

~~~

Miranda visited Israel for part of the winter
quarter. Her grandparents were getting old, and to her it was worth
delaying graduation for a few months to see them. So she began
classes in earnest the following spring.

That is when she saw poor Mitchell Graham
again. He was kind to her even when he was in the middle of his
self-deluded justification for leaving someone he was obviously in
love with for someone he obviously didn’t care about. He hadn’t
taken her advice but why would he? She’d told him to do the right
thing, because at that point it could still be done. But she had a
different definition of impossible than most other people.

When she realized that Jessie and Richard’s
friend Emily was Mitchell’s Emily, she knew it was her job to bring
them all together. But she could also tell that Emily, for all her
pride and independence had been genuinely hurt by his stupid
mistakes. Miranda had been happy to hang out with Emily while she
soothed her heart with old television and some vegan ice cream
bars.

To her surprise, Miranda found that she loved
some of the Thelonious Monk and Ella Fitzgerald songs Emily had
played that night. Most of the Ella was so pretty that she sang to
herself as she listened, but the Monk was overall perfect to help
her focus while she studied.

On a Sunday in May, when Alex was away on a
business trip in Asia, she was sitting in the living room, going
over her notes for European History, 1945-Present. She had her iPod
on and was bouncing her head to
Eronel
when she felt a rough
tap on her shoulder. It was Michael. She’d thought he’d had a late
night out and wouldn’t be up for a while.

She rolled her eyes and paused the music.
"Yes?"

"I said, that’s really loud."

"Yeah, okay." She put the music back on and
made it a little bit louder. Her eardrums could withstand a little
abuse if it got him to leave.

"Turn it down!"

"Go into another room!" she shouted back. "I
need to study. Go nurse your hangover somewhere else."

He grabbed the iPod. She sighed and sat back.
She didn’t want to start a game of keep away with him, so she’d
just wait until he’d had his fill.

"When did you start listening to grown up
music?"

"When Radio Disney went off the air in
Boston."

"Wow, Monk," he said, going through her
playlists. "Who do you know that has good taste in music?"

"Emily," she said, snatching the iPod
back.

"Right, Richard’s little friend. I didn’t
know you knew her."

"There’s a lot you don’t know." She found her
place in her book and started reading again.

"So enlighten me."

Scowling, she gathered her books and iPod. "I
doubt that’s possible," she said as she walked out of the room and
left the house to go to the library.

Michael was not quite as tall as Richard but
he was still over six feet. He was built like an Abbot: broad
shouldered, thick-chest and strong. His hair was dark brown, like
his mother Annabelle’s, but thick and wavy with red highlights like
Stephen’s. And he had the long eyelashes of his grandfather Michael
Senior, who had used them to his advantage on many occasions.
Michael was very handsome if his face was still and emotionless,
but when a dark thought crossed his mind, he had the appearance of
a dangerous animal that would pounce on its prey at any point.
People would usually back away if they were near him when this
happened which had sadly been the case since he was seven years
old.

After he had that little episode with Emily
in May, Alex had made it unusually clear that Michael had to leave
for a long period of time. That day Alex had taken him to dinner at
the club, after he’d bought Michael a new suit and shoes. The ones
he’d had on that afternoon had been covered in spinach dip, thanks
to that twit Mitch.

"The Surf and Turf, I think, but first the
vodka martini," Michael ordered.

"Just the food, please," Alex said.

"Why’s that, Alex? I promise I haven’t even
had a beer today."

Alex leaned in. "Then that makes what
happened today even more unacceptable."

Michael was offended. "I’m still having
trouble walking. Does anyone care that she hurt me?"

"She wouldn’t have had the chance if you
hadn’t shoved her hand down your pants."

"She should keep her mouth shut about things
that don’t concern her."

"Like what?"

"Like one more person over reacting to a
little fun between me and Jessie."

"A little fun with a little girl! You could
have been taken in for statutory rape at the very least."

Michael shrugged. "I thought she was sixteen
already. Who can keep track of everyone’s birthday?"

"Don’t play dumb. If you touch Jessie again,
I can’t help you, and more importantly, I won’t. And assaulting
someone—one of Miranda’s friends, no less—in front of a crowd of
witnesses is something I might not be able to help you out of this
time."

The steak and shrimp arrived, and that was
just as well, because Michael didn’t want to play word games. He
was halfway into his food when Alex spoke up. "Do you understand
what I’m telling you?"

"Of course, this is my last meal before you
turn me into the police yourself."

Michael didn't look at Alex. "You know I’m
not going to do that."

"Then you’re going to call in that would-be
Sir Lancelot to finish me off? Or you’re going to do it
yourself?"

Alex didn’t take the bait. "I made a promise
to Miranda. She and her friends won’t go to the police as long as
you leave."

"And go where? I thought you suggested the
continent of Europe should be avoided for a few more years."

"Go to Asia."

"I don’t like them
that
young."

"This isn’t a joke."

"I’ll tell you what isn’t a joke—how am I
supposed to meet with the East Coast clients when I’m halfway
around the world."

"I’m sure I can arrange a transfer of
clients. They owe me a favor or two."

"Still?"

"Still. I’m more useful than you are
destructive."

"Yes, but is anyone as destructive as you
are?"

Alex didn’t say anything and Michael didn’t
look away. He wanted an answer.

"I’ve tried to make up for my mistakes. I’m
trying right now."

"Then your nobility should be rewarded. I
think I can make myself scarce for a few weeks."

"It’s going to have to be a longer than
that."

"A month? I think that’s pushing it."

"Longer. And if I understood Miranda
correctly, the police aren’t the only thing you’ll have to worry
about if you stay in Boston."

Michael laughed loudly. "He caught a lucky
break. Don’t worry, I can take care of myself next time."

"I’m not so sure." Alex had ice in his voice.
"I think it would be best for everyone if you were scarce for a few
months."

"Fine." He had no intention of staying away
that long. "But it’s going to cost you."

"What do you want?"

"Of course I’ll need an apartment—in
Seoul."

"I could get you better accommodations in
Bangkok-"

"No, Seoul."

"Fine."

"But while I’m there, I don’t think it’s fair
to keep me locked up in such a small country."

"You’ll get a traveling allowance."

"And you know, I’ve been picking up this job
so quickly that they’ve been really shoveling new tasks on me. I’m
practically managing my little team."

"It’s a two-person team."

"Exactly. And he has the title, and I have
all the responsibility. Does that seem fair? I mean, I can see why
I can’t have the title, but there’s got to be something we do about
the salary."

"I’ll fix the salary if you put the increase
into your savings account."

"Half of it."

"Seventy-five percent."

"Sixty."

"Fine. Then the tickets will be waiting for
you at the airport in two hours."

Michael wiped his face with his napkin. "Just
one more thing, though, before I can agree. I want the house."

Alex froze. "I’m not sure that’s a good idea
just yet."

"When is it going to be a better idea?"

"When I don’t have to constantly worry about
getting you out of trouble."

"I am coming back eventually, right? So where
am I going to stay? I don’t have too many opportunities to stay
with Richard when Jessie isn’t there or Aunt Lucy doesn’t make a
cameo appearance, and I’m pretty sure your precious Miranda will
want me around even less than before. So unless you’re going to get
me an entirely new place all my own, doesn’t it make sense to give
me the house now, since it is mine?"

Alex looked as if he was trying to form the
words, but couldn’t do it. "It’s still my house, isn’t it?" Michael
blurted out.

"What? Of course; it’s still your house."
Alex said, but didn’t look at Michael. "And yes, I’ll have the
house ready for you. In October."

Michael genuinely smiled for the first time
in years. "Then I’ll see you in October."

Alex didn’t know that Michael had missed the
flight he was scheduled for. It was alright, he hadn’t needed to
get another ticket because he had turned on the charm for the
ticket agent. He’d missed his flight because he’d wanted to visit
Richard before he had to leave. He let himself in with the key
Richard couldn’t bear to take away from him. But Richard wasn’t
there. Michael let himself into the kitchen to grab a snack, and
with the exception of some slightly stale bread, found it empty. He
closed the refrigerator and thought hard. Finals, he remembered at
last. Richard was finally going to graduate, so maybe he couldn’t
cook. He must have gone out to get a bite to eat.

Michael felt lonely thinking about Richard
eating dinner right now, most probably with his very nice, very
pretty new girlfriend. Richard made Michael feel lonely most of the
time. Even Michael couldn’t help but appreciate how much Richard
had to bear, and Michael knew he was most of it. It hadn’t always
been that way though. He’d had parents once, and though it was a
memory that grew less reliable with every passing day, he knew that
they had loved him. His mother had been snappy and nervous maybe,
but she was always happy to have him with her. And his father...he
remembered the smell of his father’s hand on his head or his breath
when he hugged him. Usually it was heavy with hard liquor, or at
the very least wine. The first time he’d sipped a drink, the smell
had reminded Michael of his father.

He remembered, although it seemed incredible
to him now, how bad he’d felt for Richard when they were younger,
before his parents died, because Michael wasn’t sure how much of
Aunt Lucy’s love Richard had gotten. Maybe he imagined it, but he
thought that Richard enjoyed his company back then, as if he could
experience being a normal child through him.