Chapter 51
I wasn’t a parent, but I understood the depth of love a man could have for his child. It was evident in the way Vince’s face lit up when he saw Carmine or when Carmine called to say that Nick was safe. But now there was no trace of him and Vince came back from California despondent.
We were both working a lot, and I couldn’t help thinking what it would be like when Vince retired, and he’d be home all the time.
After six years of marriage, I had never been able to tell him that I loved him.
He told me often, early in our marriage, but I never reciprocated.
When he asked me one day if I loved him, I told him that I didn’t grow up with declarations of love, and it felt silly and childish to me.
The first part wasn’t true. Mom and Dad showered us with love and affection when we were kids.
My friends my own age still met up in bars and nightclubs, went to drive-in movies, enjoyed rollerblading and got wasted at their children’s birthday parties, but I realized that I was living Vince’s life.
We did a lot of Netflix and no chill. We tried out every new restaurant as soon as it opened.
We were ready with our opinions on the latest book-to-TV adaptation and the latest fine-dining experiences when we had other couples over to dinner.
Long, dull evenings, where the men would discuss their golf handicap and the wives would discuss anti-ageing creams, menopause, and of course, books.
We all avoided discussing politics, it was becoming too contentious.
I didn’t resent those women, but I floundered.
There was something missing from my life.
Business was great – I had one author in the USA Today chart and one who had been shortlisted for a National Book Award – but I was unfulfilled.
Maybe I did want a baby after all, but our sex life had diminished so much that it would probably be a miracle for me to conceive, now aged forty-two. I stayed on the pill.
When I explained it to Vince, we wondered if it was some kind of ruse to get back into my life.
Vince emailed him and asked him if he was Milo Kelly, and told him that he knew what he had done to my sister.
Milo responded that he had never done anything to my sister and that he had spent thirteen years in prison for nothing, but if Vince wanted to meet his son, Milo was happy to arrange it.
Vince called him up. Apparently, Milo had befriended Nick slowly over the course of six months.
He described it like getting an abused dog to trust a human again.
He had asked a psychiatrist friend of his to meet Nick where he lived in a semi-derelict house in Fenway and, together, they had persuaded him that he might feel less fear if he took some anti-psychotic medication.
I recognized the name of the psychiatrist, Ben Roche.
He was one of Milo’s friends when he was in college.
They had been together at the Boston Marathon on the day of the bombing.
Ben had called my sister a liar. He’d been in court the day I gave evidence.
But, apparently, he and Milo had put Nick back together.
I did not want to have a reason to be grateful to Milo Kelly after everything he had done to our family.
Vince went to meet him on his own. And, later that evening, he brought Nick home.
The years had taken their toll on him. The last time I had seen him, he was emaciated, but now his face was puffed up and swollen, probably a side effect of the drugs, he said.
His words came slowly. He cried when he entered the house and said he missed his mom.
Vince caught him in a bear hug, and I felt like an intruder.
I asked Vince if I should leave, but he wanted me to stay.
Nick said I should stay too. He apologized for all the hurt he had caused.
He was hazy about how he had met Milo. His memories of the last few years were like shrapnel, a fight here, an arrest there.
He had a rap sheet and had served time in correctional facilities, which had made him even more afraid and paranoid.
But nobody had ever offered him genuine help until Milo.
He was lucid and coherent despite the slurred words and the swollen appearance. I made up the spare room for him.
Nick never said how long he was going to stay, and we didn’t ask.
He’d realized that he had a mental illness and was accepting of the treatment he was getting from Dr Ben, who had been treating him free of charge.
He felt calm for the first time he could remember.
It seemed like it should be a happy ending, but all I could think of was how Milo had spent months with Nick in this city until Nick was well enough to come home, and I had no doubt in my mind that he was still trying to prove to me that he was a good guy.
How could Vince not be grateful to Milo?
He had offered him money earlier that evening, but Milo had refused to accept it. How noble of him.