Chapter 26
Henry
The full-bodied relief that happens when Olly returns home hits me instantly as we walk inside. Though I know Carly takes excellent care of him, I’m uncomfortable when he’s not with me, like a constant tug-of-war between worry and letting go.
He gushes about his weekend until we run into Dot in the hallway.
“Golly, it’s Olly!”
They enact their special handshake, slapping their hands together, backward and forward, bumping elbows, and then wiggling to end it, while he giggles and tries to get it right. Mostly, he does. She rustles his hair before holding up her tablet victoriously and saying her goodbyes.
“Dad, we had corndogs,” he continues, “and watched Spiderman, and Mom wants to get a cat—”
He stops upon seeing Mr. Massie, who bows dramatically. “Olly! It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Eric the Sword-Swallower.”
Olly laughs. “That’s funny.”
Mr. Massie’s smile lifts to me. “Henry, I thought we might talk? I know you’re busy with this little tyke and Venus, but—”
“Venus? THE Venus?” His brown eyes enlarge to the size of golf balls, and his jaw drops.
“Um, yeah, the real Venus.” I run a hand through my hair—I haven’t prepared for this. “She’s installing the garden on the roof.”
I refuse to lie, but this is awkward. Wouldn’t allowing them to meet break our no-attachments agreement? Olly’s already attached to her through my stories, and Venus doesn’t want to be attached to us.
But I think of what Dr. Blake said, that she doesn’t know what she wants, and Dot’s encouragement: Why not love her while you have the chance and let the future take care of itself?
“Dad! She’s here?” he asks again, impatiently. His pleading eyes end any debate. This might be his only chance to meet her. After all my stories, how could I deny him?
“Could you wait here, Mr. Massie? I have to…”
He waves me off and plops onto the bench. “Take your time.”
My son’s cheeks puff with his hopeful smile.
I try to predict Venus’s reaction. Will she run away? Is she already climbing down the fire escape? If she stays, will she be cold and aloof, ultimately hurting his feelings? Test her, then. If there’s any hope, you’ll see it.
I take his hand, leading him to the staircase. “I’m happy for you to meet her, but just remember, Venus isn’t like other people.”
He scoffs. “I know, Dad. That’s what I love best about her.”
Did he say love? Everything inside me sinks a little. I stop him on the stairs and crouch to his level. “I’m sure she’ll love you, too, but it might be hard for you to tell that on the outside.”
“Right,” he says, rolling his eyes impatiently. “She’s short on smiles but big on brains and feelings. I remember.”
Olly pushes through the rooftop access door in front of me, almost tripping over his feet.
“Venus!” he shouts. “I’ve been dying to meet you!”
Shoving her gloves into her fanny pack, she turns—a deer caught in the headlights.
At first.
Olly races over, dumping his backpack and all but forcing her to meet him at his level. She goes to one knee just in time for him to crash into her arms.
And there it is, this sweet and elusive glimmer as she accepts his embrace—one I’ve rarely seen.
Her hand falls against his back, ring-covered fingers spreading over him, and her eyes close as she tucks in her bottom lip, like she’s tucking in her emotions, too.
She nestles against his small shoulder. Her cheeks plump in an uncharacteristically wide and beautiful smile.
This is Venus, happy.
A sharp inhale makes my chest flutter at the sight of it. My heart catches in my throat—I never would’ve expected this. That Olly would be bold enough to hug a stranger or that Venus would be so gracious in her acceptance. Have I ever seen Venus hug anyone but me?
No—an answer that makes my emotions swell even more.
Olly pulls back, beaming at her. He grabs her arm, unabashedly touching and ogling her tattoos. “Aw, you’re all painted. It’s so pretty and cool. Dad didn’t tell me about that.”
Her eyes cut to mine. “You told him about me?”
“He’s told me all your stories,” Olly answers for me. “About climbing trees and Frank the Frog and ants in the pants and the gardens you planted and the adventures you went on—”
“Olly,” I cut in, finally finding my voice to break his stream-of-consciousness. “He’ll go on forever if you let him.”
“I don’t mind,” she says, a little breathless.
“Did you really pick up a snake with your bare hands?” He cocks his head at her with scrutiny.
“Several times,” she answers. “The last time, I became friends with a Sanzinia madagascariensis or a Malagasy tree boa in Madagascar.”
Olly giggles. “You talk funny.”
Venus’s eyes catch mine over our shared memory—I said the same thing to her over our first lunch together in second grade.
A sad smile escapes her as she says, “So I’ve been told. Do you like snakes?”
“Eh, they’re a bit scary,” he admits with a light shrug.
“Well, some are very dangerous. You should never pick one up without knowing what type it is, if it’s venomous, or if it seems nervous or unfriendly,” she explains, “but snakes are often misunderstood… Oh, I have something you might like.”
She holds up a finger and unzips her fanny pack. She digs inside the overstuffed bag until she pulls out what appears to be an ordinary brown rock.
“This reminds me not to be afraid,” she says. “All creatures are treasures.”
He raises his hands and his brow at once. “It’s just a rock.”
She flips the rock over. “No, it’s a fossil.”
My kid’s head practically explodes with awe.
I step closer to see the soft, pale outline of a curled skeleton, small but embedded clearly in the stone. The snake’s tiny skull reveals even tinier fangs. Olly runs his fingers over it, but only after she does.
“I named him Mango,” she says, “after the Mangoky River where I found him.”
“Aw, he’s so cute,” Olly coos, touching him again.
“Now, you’ve touched a snake, too,” she says, flashing a soft smile.
Olly holds the stone up toward me. “Dad! I touched a snake!”
I barely manage a nod—I’m so shocked by the scene unfolding before me. Olly is his usual exuberant self times ten—that’s typical. But Venus isn’t what I thought she’d be at all.
Most adults act differently around children. They put on happy faces, explain things with simple words, and even use higher-pitched voices.
But Venus doesn’t change for him, except to allow his affection. She stays herself unequivocally. And my affection for her grows more for it. She’s passed the test easily, while I’ve made our situation harder.
I couldn’t let Venus Blake go when I was angry. How will I let her go after this? What’s to stop me from falling in love with this woman all over again?
A weird surge of protection and perhaps self-preservation overcomes me, forcing my hand on Olly’s shoulder and squeezing him gently toward me. Away from her.
Venus stands, her green eyes landing on mine in guarded curiosity, as if wondering if she’s done something wrong.
She hasn’t, but this isn’t what I expected. I’m not sure if it’s even what I want. I’ve never seen my son so elated, and I’m with him every Christmas morning. Wouldn’t it have been better for her to remain a mystery? A figment of his imagination?
Imaginary friends don’t leave.
“That’s great, Olly, but we should leave Venus alone to finish the garden.” I manage, my mouth going dry. “Say goodbye to her and Mango.”
Olly’s face contorts from happy to devastated in a flash. “Dad, do I have to?”
“No, please keep Mango,” she says, refusing to take it. “He’s traveled all this way and needs a better home than my fanny pack.”
Olly giggles before turning his pleading eyes on me.
“Thanks, Venus. That’s kind,” I say.
“Dad, can I help Venus with the garden? Pleeeaaasssse,” he begs, clasping the fossil between praying hands.
Her eyes stay fixed on mine, her face expressionless, like she might be testing me, too.
“Um, okay, just for a few minutes. I need to talk to Mr. Massie downstairs, anyway.” I meet Venus’s eyes again. “Is this okay? Will you be alright?”
Disappointment outlines her face, like she’s offended at my uncertainty, but she says, “Of course.”
She points to the nearly empty bin of plants, showing Olly what’s left to do. “We’re planting Dionaea muscipula and Sarracenia flava—”
“Venus,” I cut in, turning from the access door. “He’s six. Maybe don’t use Latin? It’s too advanced for him.”
Venus and Olly twist in my direction with highly offended, gaping stares. If looks could kill, I’d be dead twice over.
“Too advanced?” Venus begins to counter, but Olly chimes in with, “Dad, we got this.”
Venus’s brow cocks in a silent challenge.
Defeated, I back away and retreat to the museum.