Chapter 8 - THE MAN WHO FINALLY WENT UPSTAIRS
Tommy turned two.
The birthday party took place in the garden.
No politicians.
No business partners.
Children.
Cupcakes.
Bubbles.
Mercy, now almost five, wore the red stethoscope because she had decided she was “the doctor.”
Tommy called her “Merc.”
Alio had learned to carry his son everywhere.
Sometimes too much.
“Put him down,” Yolanda said.
“He wants up.”
“He has legs.”
“He’s tired.”
“He’s manipulating you.”
“He’s two.”
“Exactly.”
Tommy looked at his father.
“Up.”
Alio lifted him.
Yolanda pointed.
“See?”
Alio smiled.
“Strategic genius.”
Then Mercy tugged Alio’s sleeve.
“Come.”
“Where?”
“The wall.”
His smile disappeared.
The western wall.
The Range Rover had been impounded long ago.
Cassandra’s.
Later sold.
But the place remained.
Mercy stood beside the stones.
For the first time since the incident, she approached without fear.
“Tommy was there.”
“Yes.”
“I heard him.”
“Yes.”
“Then he got quiet.”
Alio’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
Mercy looked toward Tommy in his arms.
“He’s loud now.”
Tommy was currently yelling at a bubble.
“Yes.”
Very.
Mercy smiled.
“I’m not scared of the wall anymore.”
Alio crouched.
“That’s good.”
She touched the red stethoscope.
“My doctor says brains remember scary stuff even when scary stuff is over.”
“Smart doctor.”
“She says I don't have to forget.”
“No.”
Mercy looked at him.
“Do you remember?”
“Every day.”
“Does it scare you?”
“Sometimes.”
She nodded.
Apparently satisfied.
Then ran back toward the party.
Alio remained crouched.
Yolanda came beside him.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
Lie.
She waited.
He corrected himself.
“No.”
Better.
He looked toward the house.
“I had never carried him downstairs.”
Yolanda touched his shoulder.
“You do now.”
“That doesn't erase it.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“You never say anything easy.”
“I’m expensive emotionally.”
He laughed.
Then she kissed him.
Not their first kiss.
Still his favorite.
That evening, after everyone left, Alio carried sleeping Tommy upstairs.
At the nursery door he stopped.
Then walked past it.
Into his own bedroom.
For the first time, Tommy slept in a crib beside Alio’s bed.
Not because of fear.
Because the boy had a fever after too much sun and cake, and Alio wanted him close.
At 2:00 a.m., Tommy woke crying.
Alio picked him up.
No nurse.
No housekeeper.
No panic.
He sat beside the window and rocked him.
Thomas settled against his chest.
Alio looked down.
“I’m here.”
Simple.
Everything Elise had wanted.
Too late for her.
May you like
Not too late for him.
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