Plans and Certainties #5
Reg gasped, glancing at his mother, who just gave a mild nod. “I hear you, son,” she said. “Tell me—” She leaned forward, elbows on knees. “—would you rather be safe without her or worried with her?”
Ilia gnawed on his lower lip. “I… I don’t know how to answer that,” he said, his voice breaking a little. “I-I am so tired of being scared.” He glanced at Reynaldo. “I’m sorry―”
“Hey, this isn’t your fault,” Reynaldo said. He summoned a sad smile. “It’s dumb luck. Imagine, the first boy I make out with is related to the mobster who wants to take me for ransom, and neither of us knows it! It’s right out of a telenovela!”
Ilia gave an answering smile, some of his earlier buoyancy returning. “We could write a story about it for language class,” he said.
“It needs to have a happy ending,” Reynaldo told him earnestly. “Let’s figure out how to do that.”
“Tomorrow,” Connor Dodge said firmly, standing and gesturing for the boys to do the same. “Let’s take Catherine out for her last walk around the property and then get some sleep. Miss Julie—”
“Oh, I’ve got some spare clothes for you boys,” she said. “Don’t worry, they’re my boys’ clothes. Chance, Reg, things they grew out of, and my grandsons, Russell and Shaw, as well.”
“Why did you keep them so long?” Ilia asked, eyeing Reg as though he was on the cusp of needing geriatric care.
“Because you’re not the first boys who’ve needed a place to stay since then,” she said. “And remember—grandsons!”
That seemed to put an end to the speculation, and as the boys and Reg’s mom followed Connor outside with the ecstatic dog, Reg could only be grateful.
“Poor kids,” his father said, watching them go. “It’s not fair to do this to them. Their lives haven’t been easy as it is.”
“I know,” Reg said with a sigh. “I… I’m just so glad we got them this far, you know?”
“Yeah, quick thinking there, kid,” Ed said, standing up and stretching before fluffing the couch cushions and folding the blankets the boys had been using on the floor. “Why were you and Dean fighting so hard there?”
Subtlety wasn’t a thing after seven kids, Reg supposed.
“He wanted to ask Anthony to come with me,” Reg said. “I didn’t want to impose.”
His father stared at him. “Looks to me like Anthony was happy to go. Why would you think it was an imposition?”
Reg shrugged. “Because he didn’t ask for this, Dad. He was visiting for a date. I mean, you know. A first date—”
“Not by his choice,” his father said, laughing. “I’m pretty sure if that kid’d had his way, you two would be halfway to married by now. Why are you so anxious to push him away?”
Reg sighed. “It’s hard to explain,” he evaded.
“Oh no it’s not,” his father told him, and Reg shifted on the couch uncomfortably while his dad stacked the blankets behind him.
“I’m betting it’s easy to explain. You just don’t want to do it.
Too afraid it’ll lead to something painful.
Yeah, you may think you’re invisible, Registrar, but you don’t see the entire family worrying about you and your shy ways. ”
Reg gaped at his father, unable to catch his breath. “Why would they worry about me?” he asked. “I have a job, I support myself, I help the family—”
“You are a help and a blessing every day,” Ed Royal said, coming to rest in front of Reg. “You are the perfect child. Do you think we’re stupid, Reg?”
“What does that mean?” Reg asked, stung.
His father bent down, like he had when they’d all been young. “It means if you don’t worry about the perfect children, that thing that’s driving them to be perfect is going to eat them alive. Why are you so afraid he’ll see you?”
Reg’s eyes burned. “Dad—”
“Come on, son. You’ve always been a worrier. It’s only gotten worse in the last few years. Why are you about to worry yourself out of a perfectly good man?”
“I don’t want to get lost,” he said and then slapped his hand over his mouth.
“Get lost?” His father sank down onto the couch next to him. “How would you get lost?”
At that moment, Reg heard the crunch of the new SUV on the gravel outside. He sprang up and headed for Laure’s bedroom—the guest bedroom now—saying, “It’s just something stupid I used to think as a kid. Let me make sure the guest room is stocked—”
Which was a dumb excuse, but he didn’t have anything else.
With a sigh, he got to the bedroom and sank onto the pleasant green-and-purple quilt on the queen-sized bed. Laure’s room had ended up being the dedicated guest room because it was the best room—the best decorated and the prettiest and in the best shape—after all the kids moved out.
Val, Prock, and Sal had shared their own room, and Dean, Reg, and Chance had shared another, and Reg remembered a lot of drywall work and painting had gone on as first one room, now the den, and then the other, now a combination sewing room/library, had been emptied out.
Boys were hard on walls.
And that’s as far as his brain got, apparently, because he was still sitting there on his sister’s quilt, staring into space, when Anthony walked in with two knapsacks—one on his back and one in his hand—and asked him how he was doing.