Chapter 59 Henry
Chapter 59
Henry
Henry’s seated at the table, waiting for the others to arrive. He’s thinking about all that’s transpired, knowing that when they walk out these doors, they’ll have decisions to make, mistakes to confront. The table acted as an intermediary, but reality is closing in.
Lucy and Sienna don’t know he heard part of their conversation. He followed them downstairs, standing behind a wall of wines to make sure nothing escalated, and when Sienna mentioned how Adam took advantage of Lucy, Henry released a breath he hadn’t realized he held in. The relief washed over him, the anger morphing into a forgiveness he clung to with both hands.
“Henry?” Simone says it twice before he hears her. “Are you okay?”
She holds a bottle of red in one hand and white in the other, and he catches the smell of whipped potatoes as he stares at the wine. He wants something stronger, but he chooses the red Clos des Papes Chateauneuf-du-Pape. Jean-Paul had boasted about the full-bodied blend produced in France’s Rh?ne Valley. The first swig goes down smooth and velvety.
A car pulls up the drive, and in walk Rosalie and Renée. The young girl’s eyes look sunken into her face; her purple hair is pulled back. She looks peaceful, despite her somber mood.
“How’s Cassidy?” Simone asks.
“No change,” Renée answers.
Rosalie drops into a chair and lets her face fall into her hands. The ringing of Henry’s phone breaks the silence, and his father’s name and face cover the screen. Filling Rosalie’s glass with water, Renée says, “Maybe you should answer,” but he hits “Decline.”
He’ll have to deal with his father at some point.
He hears them before he sees Sienna and Lucy step into the room. Lucy’s managing the crutches, able to keep pace with her friend.
They crowd around Rosalie, concern for Cassidy spilling over, and Rosalie shares her monosyllabic responses. They don’t promise her it will work out. They don’t make baseless platitudes. They reassure her that they’re there for her, which is the one thing they can control.
Henry reaches for his phone. His father leaves another voice message, one that he may or may not listen to, and he sees a notification from the Night Sky app about what’s in store for them tonight. He wants to delete it. Come down to Earth. He knows the answers he needs aren’t there, but the possibility used to give him a small comfort.
“Where’s Adam?” Rosalie asks.
“Adam left,” Sienna says.
“He went home?”
“It’s over,” Sienna says, unflinching.
“Shoot,” Rosalie says. “Wait. So you’re all getting divorced?”
Sienna adds, “We got to the root of our problem, I suppose. You can always count on this place to give you the truth.”
“We promise to peel onions, literal and figurative, while creating connection and reflection.” Renée half smiles. “I think we’ve accomplished that.”
Jean-Paul doesn’t look amused.
Their voices flurry around the table, but Henry is cautiously eyeing Lucy, curious about the question Rosalie posed, the one they had all ignored.
“It’s better this way,” Sienna begins. “I’m better off. The kids are at my mom’s, and he’s going to pack his stuff.” Renée rounds the corner and offers her wine. “I’m strangely okay,” she adds. “It’s like this relief washing over me ... I mean ... I stayed with him too long ... It’s time.” She points to the white wine. Renée serves a generous pour, and Sienna takes a taste.
“I know you’re all staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind. My best friend and my husband ... well, it could have been worse.” She downs another swig. “We weren’t as perfect as people assumed. We were barely holding on.”
Henry lets her finish.
She holds Lucy’s eyes in hers. “Adam never ever saw me. We’ve been living in the dark for a while.”
“To a lot of us, it looked like he worshipped you,” Henry says.
“That’s what he did. That’s his gift. He puts on an act when people are around. The affection, the compliments, the adoration. That bright light. But he never really saw me. It was an eclipse.” She takes another sip. “How could I complain about someone who worshipped me, right?”
She rambles on, not the least bit concerned about who’s overhearing the tawdry details of their life. “When we were alone, he was different. Aloof. Distant. And don’t get me started on our sex life.”
“Hold on,” Henry says, motioning at Rosalie.
“I’m almost sixteen, Henry. I know about sex.”
“You’ve had sex?” Renée asks, which sends three sets of eyes spinning in her direction.
“You guys are weird,” Rosalie says. “You’re starting to creep me out.”
“If we’re going full-on creepy,” Henry begins, directing the observation to Sienna, “we thought you and Adam were like bunnies—always all over each other.”
“Oh, that,” Sienna says. “Part of the show. Let people think he’s this ideal husband with an insatiable appetite. For me.” She shakes her head.
“We all want to feel beautiful and wanted,” Lucy finally says.
Sienna blinks away tears. “I never felt those things with him. I felt like an impostor. A body.” She inhales, tucks the sadness away, and puts on a brave face. “Henry.”
He’s half listening, half reading the update on his phone about tonight’s sky. “Sienna.”
“I’m sorry for his behavior. I hope you’ll find a way to forgive Lucy—”
“That’s really cool, Sienna,” Rosalie interrupts. “I’m not sure I’d be as forgiving.”
“You will. When you know what matters, you figure out a way. And it’s good for you to know that not everything’s as it seems, and that we’re all just ... what do you call us, Henry?”
“Atoms. Energy.”
“We’re just people with flaws and faults.”
They’re interrupted when Leo walks in looking like he’s been beaten up.
“Hey, gang.”
A chorus of muffled greetings follows.
Renée comes around with the wine, offering Leo the red. “Is Penny joining us?”
“She’s got a headache. Probably not.”
Sienna holds the glass up to him. “To solidarity.” And they clink glasses.
“How’s everyone doing?” Leo asks.
They all gulp simultaneously.
“I didn’t have sex with Adam,” Lucy says, “if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I’d never think that. He’s way too big of a jerk for you.”
“Thank you, Leo,” Sienna scoffs. “I’ll take the compliment.”
“Where is he?” Leo asks.
“You didn’t hear him take off?”
“I was dealing with my own shitstorm.”
“Full moon,” Henry says.
Jean-Paul comes around with a tray of crab cakes.
They eat in silence, lost in their thoughts. The table feels smaller, as though it’s shrinking beneath their troubles. Simone circles around, taking photos of the food, a close-up of the yellow calendula adorning the apple pie.
Henry’s the only one who notices that Jean-Paul hasn’t said a word the entire meal.