45. Henry
Chapter forty-five
Henry
W rong. Eliminating the oxygen tank during Mother’s appointment this afternoon, as the care team had prematurely done, was a wrongheaded and dangerous decision. The walk from the car to the kitchen nearly bested her.
With each step, Henry debated the wisdom of scooping her into his arms. His fears would be appeased; hers would deepen, the limitations of the world closing in once more. He hadn’t been invited to sit in during her therapy session. His watchfulness for signs of depression could only catch the external, not the internal. He took minuscule steps to match her pace and steadied her with both arms, but she reached the door under her own power. That would have to be enough.
They had arrived home too late for proper tea, as expected. He prepared dinner while reporting what he’d picked up from the butcher and the grocer. Mother grimaced her way through an herbal tea. That battle he’d partially won; she could have a single cup of caffeinated tea per day, but not within two hours of taking her pill each morning.
After dinner, they decamped from the kitchen to the music room. She fared better inside, with surer steps and quieter lungs.
“Did they give you an ETA, darling?” Like a child awaiting Santa Claus, Mother labored mightily to remain awake for Alice and Jay’s arrival. A folded blanket doubly covered her lap. “Shall we have a dessert tray waiting?”
“Late, I’m afraid.” The most recent message from Alice indicated a traffic jam on the interstate. Hardly unexpected for the Friday night before the holiday, even before adding the possibility of accidents. Tomorrow would have been more of the same. “After ten, certainly. Shall we go upstairs now, and I’ll read to you for a while? You know your greetings and embraces will be equally well received in the morning when all of you are fresh from a night’s sleep.”
“Alice flew in from the Midwest this morning, you said?” She ignored his suggestion wholesale. Well. It was but eight thirty; he would gently try again later. “Poor girl. She’ll be exhausted by the time she arrives.”
Alice and Jay arriving exhausted would be simpler, uncharitable though the thought was. Today had presented an unceasing string of appointments and errands. Tomorrow would require he be his usual self, and he as yet had no manner of ensuring that outcome. If his spouses collapsed into sleep upon arrival, all the better. “She may nap in the car; it seems Jay is driving.”
“He’s such a sweet boy.” Mother clicked her tongue. “And I haven’t a single Christmas cookie in the house for him yet. I’ve missed the cookie swap entirely this year.” Her questioning glance rolled toward the kitchen. “I don’t suppose—”
“Not tonight, Mother.” A paltry three days since her last emergency rush to the hospital. Having her mixing thick dough? Fighting with the rolling pin? Carrying heavy trays, hovering over the hot oven—not tonight or any night while he was here. “Why don’t we discuss it tomorrow as a family?”
A few stern words to Alice and Jay about Mother’s current capacity would present him with more leverage to enforce her rest and recovery.
By nine thirty, after an update from Alice with copious apologies extending their arrival time to eleven or thereabouts, Mother consented to begin preparing for sleep. Once in bed, with the covers tucked neatly around her and Henry reading from the first of Gerald Durrell’s lighthearted adventures in Corfu, she drifted off within minutes. He read several pages further to be certain, then placed a bookmark at the earlier position and laid the book aside.
Elevated on a slope built of four pillows, Mother breathed steadily, her face turned slightly toward him. He’d silenced his phone; checking revealed no new messages. He composed a brief missive for Alice, informing her that Mother was sleeping and asking for a notification when they were fifteen minutes from the house. That would be sufficient warning to illuminate the path to the front door for them and prevent any ringing of the bell.
Working backward through the day, he ensured nothing had been left undone. Lina had been updated about the Saturday situation and kindly offered to be on standby should anything else arise. The nursing service had been instructed to consider part-time and drop-in candidates for specific tasks in addition to full-time care, with any interviews to be scheduled after the holiday. The tickets for the Nutcracker had been reassigned to Robert’s family.
A twinge of disappointment plucked beneath his ribs. Experiencing the familiar ballet through Alice and Jay’s fresh eyes would have added a delightful dimension to the outing. Beyond that, ballet—dance of most any sort, truly—provided an aesthetic release, emotion through form and movement, the flowing rhythm he could capture but one frame at a time on canvas. The glory of the human body and its expression of inner joy and turmoil—those could be shown in total on stage, wordlessly, whether dancers rose on silent feet or floggers descended like striking falcons.
But even that respite would have been impossible with Mother’s current state. How could he sink into enjoyment of any diversion when she might need him at any moment?
At ten thirty-five, he roused himself from the chair and ghosted out the door into the darkened hallway. The moon, less than full but greater than half, spilled light through the windows around and above the front door as he crossed above the entryway. His bedroom at the opposite end of the hall would be in fine condition; he’d not slept even once in the sheets on the bed now. The addition of a few more towels to the bath would suffice.
With the bedside lamp on, he tidied his things and removed his traveling bag to the closet. Alice would have the next week’s clothes with her. They would have to decide what to do about the rental car. They were unlikely to need it while in town, but—
But if he needed to stay beyond the week, it would be useful for sending them both home before their jobs demanded their attention once more.
Beyond the week. Into the new year. He sank heavily on the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, smoothing his hands over his face and into his hair. This hadn’t been the plan. He’d been so detailed, so methodical—so certain of presenting Alice and Jay with the holiday season they deserved, every night made for memories.
At this very moment, he ought to be lying in front of a cheerily burning fireplace, having thoroughly exhausted his spouses with his inventiveness and passion, and be contemplating doing so again until the last embers cooled. Or watching Alice astride Jay as the firelight silhouetted their bodies, sketching their shifting shapes and drawing in their pleasure.
What did he offer instead? Sleepless nights, a nonexistent libido, and a baby monitor that consumed his focus.
Had he even included the Advent calendar on Alice’s packing list? No, no, he hadn’t thought of it. They certainly couldn’t go back for it now. He would simply have to announce the activities each morning. The intent in the final few days before Christmas had been to give Alice and Jay a family experience with Mother. They could have that still, even if ice skating would no longer be suitable. The piano lesson in carols, perhaps, if Mother could sit comfortably with her back unsupported. If not, he would have to recall his lessons himself, which might prove amusing for everyone save him.
His phone vibrated against his leg. Alice and Jay were nearly here. He turned down the sheets and left the pillows for them to sort as they wished. Lights on, yes, and in the hall as well, to facilitate the quiet movement of luggage. The wall sconces gave a gentle golden glow. Mother’s door was shut; her breathing remained steady and audible through the monitor. Down the stairs he went, the entry tile chillier than the hardwood or the carpet runner beneath his feet. Shoes. Shoes would be appropriate, should he need to assist Jay with the bags.
He illuminated the drive and the walkway, then sat and donned his shoes. He watched from the window beside the door. Pacing would create unnecessary sounds. At ten after eleven, headlights appeared in the drive. A white minivan parked alongside his black sedan. Had they suddenly acquired children? Were Will and Emma joining them on an unannounced mission to set him straight?
Jay flew around the front of the vehicle and opened Alice’s door. The muffled slams ought to be fine; no change registered in Mother’s breathing.
Henry stepped out onto the stoop, one hand on the door handle, as they approached.
“Come in, come in,” he called quietly, the air puffing with his breath. His spouses carried no bags, but perhaps they needed the facilities before emptying the car. “Mother is asleep, though she sends her love.” He stepped inside, holding the door open. “The powder room down the hall is available, and of course the bedroom has been made up for guests—”
“Psst, husband.” Alice rubbed the front of his shirt as she stepped in past him and tilted her head toward Jay. “We’ve barely seen you in two weeks. Hugs first, okay?”
He pivoted and swept Jay into his arms, the lesson in emotional etiquette landing with a solid thunk in his belly. On any typical day, he wouldn’t have needed to be told such a thing. He would have prepared for his spouses’ emotional arrival as much as their physical one. Today he’d spared them no such thoughts. “Certainly. I do apologize. The day has been lengthy.”
Jay, trembling, fitted himself to Henry with an athlete’s strength. “We’re here to help. Whatever you need done, I can do it. Just tell me, and I’m on it.”
Would that he had a list of a thousand tasks enumerated. But the last two weeks had been lived hour by hour. A task that made sense in the morning might be irrelevant by lunchtime. Inventing busywork for Jay would tax his already limited mental resources. Could he develop something overnight? “Thank you, Jay, yes, perhaps tomorrow. You’ll undoubtedly wish to bring in the bags first.”
“I can do that.” But Jay clung more tightly, tucking his face against Henry’s neck. “It’s so good to see you. I’m sorry we didn’t come up sooner. It must’ve been hard taking care of your mom all alone, being the only one who really understood.”
The smudged green eye of a haunted child flashed before him. No one had understood. The baby monitor—where was Mother’s breathing? He pushed off, freeing himself from Jay’s embrace, and the sound returned. Smothered at their hips, that was all. Still regular and steady.
“Yes, it’s—” He pressed his hands together to hide his own trembling. A far cry from their poised dominant he was. They could tell, surely. Jay furrowed his brows, a hint of confusion rising in sweet brown eyes. Alice kept her distance, studying their interaction with a sharp-edged engineer’s logic. She would have questions, and he had no answers he cared to give. “It’s good that you’re here. You’ve saved me quite the trip tomorrow. But it’s late, and no doubt you are both tired after the day you’ve had. Alice, awake before sunrise no less. Let’s get you settled in.”
Alice smoothed her hand down Jay’s arm, rubbing lightly, and squeezed his hand. “Will you start with the duffel bags, sweetheart? I’ll join you in a minute. It feels good to stretch our legs. I didn’t expect we’d be in the car so long.”
Jay kissed her cheek. “I can manage. I know you’re still tired.” Nudging their wife toward Henry, he unsubtly ahem ed. “Somebody didn’t nap in the car like they were supposed to.” He dashed back into the night, tugging the door nearly shut behind him.
His spouses appeared fine, their behavior no more unusual than he might expect in these odd circumstances. Will was clearly wrong about there being any problem. He or Em had overreacted, that was all. Alice carried a weariness, but she’d done a great deal of traveling today. This wasn’t the night any of them had asked for. “The traffic must have been quite a vexation.”
Alice stared at him. Her lips twitched with a frown, the tug at one corner she couldn’t hide when a bothersome thought bedeviled her. “We have a lot to talk about. Is there time for that tonight?”
“We have much to recount from our days apart, don’t we?” His smile stretched with uncomfortable falsity. Who was this man pretending to be himself? Not the Henry his spouses loved and deserved; that man lay unreachably deep inside him, and a flicker of anger scraped along his nerves at the idea that he should be summoned forth to take care of Alice and Jay’s needs. Managing Mother’s care taxed his capabilities to their limit. “I’m certain Mother would love to hear about your trip and Jay’s adventures around town. Over breakfast? We have an open schedule tomorrow.”
“Those things too, sure.” Alice sighed with a heaviness not unlike his own. “But I meant—”
The door whisked open, and Jay appeared with a bag slung over each shoulder and another in one hand. “I’ll grab the gift bags next, and that’ll be everything. One sec.”
The bags dangled precariously over the tile floor, seconds away from causing a clatter. “Quietly—”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Alice pried the bag from Jay’s hand and laid it gently aside. She gestured to him for the next, and the third, both given over in silence. “Excellent work”—she kissed his cheek—“and much appreciated. Lock the car without the horn, okay?”
Jay flashed a thumbs-up on his way back out the door.
Those words, those actions ought to have been his. Praise and reassurance. Why couldn’t he connect the pieces? He’d known for hours that Alice and Jay would be arriving, and in all that time he hadn’t found himself for them. Alice would manage Jay’s expectations. The security he needed, she could provide.
Certainly. Abandon Jay to Alice, allow her to take up the task of running things—reignite both of his spouses’ traumas in a single gesture. What masterful plans he concocted. His own recurring loop would devastate his marriage, yet he couldn’t will himself out of it. Wanting to wasn’t enough; logic wasn’t enough; he’d held out hope that seeing his spouses would be the catalyst he required. But even their presence, their reminder of his adult responsibilities, hadn’t shaken off the terrified seven-year-old clinging to his mother and begging her to wake up.
A sharp spike of pain invaded his skull. He’d never been one for migraines. Normally, Alice and Jay’s needs would calm his nervous system, not elevate it. Helping them walk through their struggles brought joy and satisfaction. But in this house, with Mother so ill, he confronted his own fears—and he could not do so in front of Alice and Jay. He had been an absent dominant for two weeks. Not merely absent in body but in mind as well. He’d kept no schedule for them, set no time aside in his days to address their emotional upheaval. And now, with Alice watching him intently, having offered neither hug nor kiss of greeting of her own, he had no such attention to give. He measured his moments in Mother’s breaths.
At her side, Alice smoothed her fingertips across her thumb. “Is there anything we can do to make this easier for you? I know, I know”—her knotted frown transformed into a wry smile—“not make you come up with something on the spot. But just right now. What do you need?”
Time alone.
He staggered back, catching himself on the wall and thankfully not knocking anything askew.
“Henry?” Alice darted forward, her hand landing on his arm, her fingers slim and searching. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” His voice emerged hoarse. That word never had gone down smooth. “A glass of water will set me to rights.”
“I’ll get—”
“No need, we’ve a pitcher and glasses in the bedroom.” The sooner the luggage and his spouses were tucked away, the sooner he could sit with his thoughts. He would need a new plan. A numb sense of duty lay between him and his love for Alice and Jay. That could not stand. “Will you help me carry these upstairs?”
He grasped two bags himself, hoisting them as Jay joined them with the rest of their things. Alice flipped the lock shut and picked up the final bag. “Upstairs would be great.”
They traveled in silence, in single file, the hallway longer than he could ever recall—no, perhaps not longer than traversing it with Mother as her oxygen cannister rolled along beside them. Now she lacked even that surety. Ridiculous. The cardiac care team merely masqueraded as medical experts. Have caffeine in your tea , they said. That won’t hurt. Go without supplemental oxygen , they proclaimed. You won’t stop breathing in the night, gasping for the strength to inflate your lungs.
The bags settled on the long chest at the foot of the bed. Morning would be soon enough for Alice and Jay to unpack and make use of the closet. Mindful of his words to Alice, Henry poured himself a glass of water and took a long drink as Jay piled the gift bags near the window.
More than half an hour had passed since he’d left Mother’s room. “You should have everything you need at hand. If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on Mother.”
Alice nodded, the shadows under her eyes deeper in the low bedside light. “We’ll get started on brushing teeth and digging out pajamas.”
She rested a hand on the turned-down sheets. The pale blue set. They’d made love on these sheets once in the pre-dawn hours, waiting for word from Jay. No emotion attached to the memory, no spark of arousal such things often carried. He needed to leave the bedroom before he worried Alice and Jay with his behavior more than he already had.
“Sleep well.” He returned the glass to the tray.
“We’ll keep a space warm for you.” Jay unzipped the duffel bag at the end of the row. “First night for all three of us together in way too long.”
They expected—of course they did. Why wouldn’t they?
Alice was watching him with curious eyes again. “When you get back, we can get cozy and talk. I love falling asleep to the sound of your voices.”
“There’s—” He could manage an hour, at most, before the urge to confirm Mother’s health would drive him out of bed, again and again. He’d tested it many times. “There’s no need to wait for me. You both must be exhausted, and I’ll only disturb your sleep each time I rise to check on Mother. Please, get your rest. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
He slipped out without waiting for their reactions. He could do nothing about them now. He had a chair and a blanket waiting for him, and a night’s worth of breaths to count as he dozed.