58. Henry
58
HENRY
When I wake up, I’m convinced there’s an arrow shoved through my skull.
It takes me a moment to identify a few things—what day it is, where I am, and what the noise is in my ear canal. I know that I’m at Amelie’s, because her dress from last night is slung over her desk chair. The events of yesterday hit me like a truck when I sit up, along with a decent amount of back pain from sleeping on the ground. Amelie’s ‘pillow bed’ was a complete and total failure, but I’d rather sleep on it for the rest of my life than let her know that.
The tiresome noise, though, is my phone.
It’s ringing loudly, though I can’t pinpoint where from. Did I even take it out of my pocket last night? I was thankful to be away from the device for a bit. I knew my dad wouldn’t be contacting me, mainly because he can’t, but I know that something will come to be from last night. Something on the internet, or a news article that I don’t need to see.
I slowly stand up off the ground and paw around the nightstand for my glasses. They’re right near the edge, close to falling, so I grab them before I knock them off. Amelie must be up already because the only person in her bed is Liz. She’s slowly waking, sitting up with the speed of an injured turtle. I sneak out of the room before she actually opens her eyes.
My clothes are right where I left them—folded neatly in one of the kitchen chairs. As I’d suspected, my phone is ringing itself out of my pocket. Lizzy and I must be the only ones here, because the living room is empty as well.
I grab my phone and answer the call without checking who it is. “Hey.”
“Henry, my sweet boy. I’m so sorry.”
Mom.
Her voice is a shock this early in the morning. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice cracks, like she’s been crying, and it makes my stomach roll. “You?”
“I’m fine,” I return, racking my brain for what she could be worried about.
“Your dad told me everything last night,” she says, answering my question without me having to voice it. I have the urge to ask what version of the story he told her, but I know that isn’t what she needs. “I’m sorry, Henry. I didn’t know. You know if I had?—”
“I know, Mom,” I say softly. “I trust you.”
“I should’ve done something.”
“You couldn’t have. Please don’t worry yourself over this.”
“I could have,” she says, sounding determined. “I knew something was wrong, but I foolishly let it go, and…” She begins mumbling something that the phone doesn’t catch. It takes a moment for her to speak clearly again, her voice turning perky. “Would you visit me today? I’ve missed you, honey. Elizabeth, too. Drag her along.”
“Is—”
“No. He isn’t here.”
I release a breath. “This afternoon, then. We’ll be there.”
“Wonderful. Your sister has been keeping me updated on all your adventures , and now, I’d like your side. She told me…Amelie Benoit is back?”
“Yeah,” I say, my mouth forming an involuntary grin. “She’s back.”
“That’s lovely,” she says solemnly. “I liked her, Henry. She was good for you.”
“She was. Still is.”
Mom laughs. “Your father is scared of that girl. Downright terrified .”
“Really?” I say, hoping my tone is curious enough to get her talking.
“Certainly,” she replies, taking the bait. “Even more so now. He’s worried sick over what happened last night. It gives me quite the laugh.”
I can’t help the shock that courses through me. If she knows what Amelie did, what Amelie does, then…
“He really told you everything.”
“No,” she admits. “He didn’t. But for every dollar that man spends to get his way, I’ve got a set of eyes somewhere.”
Her admission sparks a whole new set of questions, along with a slight bit of fear. No— fear isn’t the right word. Respect is more accurate.
“Can I ask you something?” I say into the phone.
“Of course.”
“Why don’t you use it? The dirt you have on him?”
Mom’s voice is smooth, lethally soft as she says, “I will, honey. Someday.”
That answer is enough to have me running instances through my mind, trying to recall if I’ve ever picked up these clues. I’ve always seen my mom as an oblivious, innocent thing that knew nothing of what my dad did. She’s a strong woman, but she seemed to cower down in his presence. Now, I realize it was an act.
My parent’s marriage is a web of secrets, but it isn’t as one-sided as I’d always thought.
Before I can say anything in response, the front door swings open behind me. I turn to see Amelie, Meg and Jensen carrying a drink carrier and a brown paper bag. They must’ve gone to the patisserie early this morning.
“brEAKFAST IS HE—” Amelie cuts herself off when she sees the phone in my hand, then covers her mouth with her palm. “I’m sorry!” She whispers. “I didn’t realize.”
“Is that Amelie?” My mom says through the phone. “Let me speak with her.”
I take the phone away from my ear and hold it out to Amelie. “It’s my mom. She wants to talk to you.”
As soon as she registers what I’ve said, her face softens. She takes the phone from me and hands me the drink carrier. “Hi, Mrs. Arlington.”
Their conversation picks up almost immediately. I catch bits and pieces at first, but Amelie sneaks away to the bathroom as the others dole out the breakfast stock on the counter. They must’ve raided the place, honestly; there’s no way five people will eat all of this in one sitting, but I’m not opposed to trying. I didn’t eat last night before the event, and my only other option was the lighter fluid marshmallows.
“Good morning!” Liz strolls into the kitchen behind me, her voice much too loud for just waking up. She’s wearing something that I assume came from Amelie’s closet, given that it isn’t her dress from last night. “Oh—who got breakfast?”
“We did,” Jensen says, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs. “Amelie dealt with the coffee orders.”
As if on cue, Amelie comes back into the room and hands me my phone. She’s grinning like a cat, looking positively joyous as she says, “Your mom invited me to dinner.”
“ Ooh !” Liz is beaming. “Are you coming?”
“Might as well,” Amelie says flippantly, digging through the bags on the counter. She removes two cups from the drink carrier and hands one to my sister. “I got you my order because I don’t know what you like. It’s good, though. Promise.”
Lizzy takes the cup and tips it back. Her brows draw together as she swallows the drink, and she pauses for a moment before saying, “You’re a goddess, really. This is amazing.”
Amelie laughs and takes a drink of her own coffee. I, on the other hand, am simply trying to find my own. There are three other cups in the holder, and my brain isn’t fully functional yet. I pop the lids off each cup and look for mine, rather than just asking which it is.
“That one,” Amelie says, tapping the lid of the only one I haven’t opened.
I hum. “Black coffee?”
She fake shivers. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m shocked you aren’t trying to convert me.”
“When I do you won’t suspect it.”
I laugh and dig through one of the paper bags. “I’ll always be wary of you, Ames.”
She tries to hide her smile behind her cup, but fails drastically.
We stand around in silence, slowly draining our cups and picking at the pastries. It’s quite a while before anyone says anything, and when someone finally does, it’s almost startling.
“Alright,” Amelie says when she’s finished her coffee. “We’ve got a very full day ahead of us. Lots of things to do.”
“We have to drag three pieces to Hank’s apartment,” Meg reminds her. “We’ve had worse days.”
“Megan, please ,” Amelie sighs. “Let me have a win.”
Meg laughs dryly. “Fine. We’ve got a full day ahead of us. Lots of things to do.”
Amelie nods before turning to Lizzy and I. “You two, grab your things. I’m ready to get this over with.”
The task is not quite as simple as getting it over with.
I tell Meg to pull the van around back so we don’t block off the main entrance. Amelie and I go inside first to let the doorman know we’ll be loading a few things onto the elevator, but instead of giving us the go-ahead, he tells us that it’s been out of order since yesterday evening.
Which leaves Jensen and I to carry the paintings up twenty-one flights of stairs.
It could always be worse, I suppose, but I won’t pretend it’s fun.
It takes about half an hour for us to get all of my paintings into my apartment. The routine is quite simple: Jensen and I drag them up the stairs, Liz opens the door, and we set them in my studio. Then Amelie claps for us. Jensen sighs and shakes his head with each round of applause, which only makes her clap louder.
“Last one,” he yells as we make our way to my door. Amelie swings it open as we drag Lover of Mine inside, both panting and mildly annoyed. We wordlessly carry it to my studio and set it in the corner, far away from my window. I’m aware that my piece wasn’t stolen because of its visibility, but it’s still engraved into my brain to be extra careful.
Once I’m satisfied with the state of my studio, I stumble back to the kitchen and fill a glass with water, then drink it in one go. Jensen sidles up next to me and does the same, grabbing a mug from my cabinet and filling it to the brim.
“Thank God that’s done,” I mumble, leaning back against the counter. Amelie hops up on the granite to sit beside me. She takes extra care to press her arm against mine, and I’m embarrassingly aware of it. “How are we celebrating?”
“Mojitos,” Liz says, walking into my apartment at that exact moment. Meg trails behind her, holding a pitcher and a stack of plastic cups. The two of them drop into chairs at the table and start filling the cups.
Amelie blinks. “We’re drinking at ten in the morning?”
“Of course not,” Liz says, waving a hand. “It’s non-alcoholic.”
“Ah.” Amelie takes a cup off the table. She takes a sip, then looks at Liz like she’s shocked. “Have you considered becoming a bartender?”
“I have,” Lizzy says. “Multiple times, actually. I love mixing things, but I’d rather die than come home smelling like a bar every day. I can’t wash my hair that often.”
“Oh, understandable,” Meg says, sounding one-hundred percent sympathetic.
“You know,” Jensen says, taking the seat next to Meg. “I would say that this is a send-off, but apparently we aren’t parting ways. Which is your doing.” He points at Amelie. “You’ve got this all tangled up.”
“Which is fun!” She argues. “We all get along. It’s good. You’re allowed to have more than two friends, Jenny.”
He sighs. “I’m aware. But I’m a simple man.”
“You literally are not,” Meg argues. “And anyways, this is fine. More people for Mimi and Olive to torment during poker.”
“Those ladies are going to eat you alive,” Amelie mumbles, looking at me.
I raise a brow. “The women who scout the lobby?”
“The very ones.”
Laughing, I cross my arms. “That’ll be fine.”
Amelie smiles and presses a kiss to my shoulder, a touch that lasts only a moment before she gets distracted by Betty. The cat jumps onto the counter and immediately sits on Amelie’s lap, garnering every bit of her attention.
“You know,” Liz starts with a sigh, “I really do like this. I want to thank you, Henry.”
“For?” I ask.
“Dragging Amelie back into our lives.”
Amelie grins at Liz, almost like she agrees with her, but I shake my head. “That wasn’t my doing.”
“No, it was,” Amelie says. “If you hadn’t asked me for help, none of this would’ve happened.” She pauses. “Well, you didn’t ask , but you know.”
Jensen snorts. “Yeah, man, you went about that poorly.”
“Thank you for the input.”
“But it ended well,” Liz says. “Now, I have someone to share my things with again.”
Amelie sighs contentedly. “It’s my favorite part of all of this.”
I laugh quietly. It’s hard for me to rationalize any of this—the people sitting in front of me and how they got here. If I hadn’t been so desperate to appease my father’s wishes, I likely never would’ve spoken to Amelie again. If I had , it would’ve gone differently. Probably a lot smoother than this whole charade went.
But I like this outcome. A lot.
“You’re right,” I say, giving a shrug. “You’re all welcome.”
“ Pssh. ” Liz rolls her eyes. “Don’t get cocky.”
I shake my head. “I’m not. I’d never live it down with this crowd.”
Amelie nudges me in the ribs. “We’re a good crowd, Henry. You’ve never been in such fabulous company.”
“I know it,” I say.
She looks up at me, a faint smile resting on her lips, and I realize how much I mean those words. This is the strangest, most unconventional way I’ve ever come about meeting a group of people, and yet, I wouldn’t swap this situation for another.
It brought me back to her.
And whether or not anything about this moment stays the same, I know we will.