The Perfect Son Page 7
“No,” I say. “We won’t.”
Chapter 18
Erika
Jason and I love to binge watch TV series in bed. When we first got a television in our bedroom, it felt decadent. Up until then, we only had the TV in the living room. “What kind of TV addicts are we that we need to have a television in every room?” Jason had said. But we got the television, and it was a flat screen that was just as big as the one in the living room. And we watch it all the time. I can’t think of a purchase we get more mileage out of than this TV. Even our cars.
Jason has stripped down to an undershirt and boxes, and he puts his arm around me while I snuggle up against him to watch episode five of season two of BoJack Horseman. It’s this television show about a drug-addicted horse who was on a nineties sitcom. Don’t judge.
But it’s hard to focus. Frank is supposed to be talking to Olivia tonight. He’s supposed to text me when it’s done. So until I get that text, I can’t entirely relax. There’s a knot in my neck that’s throbbing.
“This is the best show on television,” Jason says. His eyes are on the screen, and he’s completely oblivious to way I keep tapping my fingers against the bed. My nervous habit.
“Even better than Stranger Things?”
“Okay. Both good in different ways.”
“Hmm.”
My phone starts ringing on the table by our bed and I practically jump out of my skin. But it’s not Frank—he’s supposed to text, not call. I pick it up and see my boss’s name on the screen. I look at my watch and see the time is nine-thirty. Still a respectable time to call an employee.
“It’s Brian,” I say. “Can we pause BoJack?”
“I suppose,” Jason grumbles. “But make it quick. This show isn’t going to binge watch itself.”
I pick up the phone and Brian’s nasal voice fills my ear. Brian is my age, but he hates technology and avoids texting or emails if he can help it. He doesn’t even have a smart phone yet. He’s been running the Nassau Nutshell for ten years, and he has a very rigid idea of how things should be done.
“Erika.” He has an inpatient edge to his voice, which is fairly typical. “Where is my article on the pie contest?”
As part of my incredibly exciting journalism career, I was assigned to cover a local pie baking contest. It wasn’t that bad, honestly, because I got to sample some of the pies. But it’s not exactly what I dreamed about when I majored in journalism.
“I thought it wasn’t due until tomorrow morning.”
“So you were planning to wait until the very last second of your deadline?”
Jason reaches for my belly to tickle me and I swipe him away. “Brian, if you need me to have it by a certain time, why not make that the deadline?”
“Erika, just please get me that article.”
“I’ll have it first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Erika…”
“First thing tomorrow morning. I promise.”
Brian grumbles, but he has to accept it. There would be some nights when I would get on the computer and bang out the article for him on the spot, but I’m not in the mindset right now. All I can think of is Frank. Part of me was tempted to hide in the bushes outside Olivia’s house to see it all go down.
After I hang up the phone, Jason raises his eyebrows at me. “You good to go?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
“You know,” he says, “now that the kids are older, you could go look for a better job. One in the city.”
I snort. “How am I supposed to do that when I end up having to drive them to school every other day?”
“Liam will have his license soon. He can drive Hannah.” Jason blinks his blue eyes at me. “You should think about it. I know you’re not happy at the Nutshell.”
I take a deep breath. “I’d like to. You know I would. But the kids… They just need me too much right now.”
His brow furrows. He doesn’t get it. I love my husband—he’s been an amazing partner for the last twenty years. But he isn’t around as much as I am. He commutes into the city every day and has to travel frequently for work, and that means he misses a lot. When something bad happens, he has to hear it secondhand from me. And he’s always certain I’m exaggerating.
He has no clue what our son is capable of.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it, noticing a text message has popped up on the screen. I see Frank’s name and the following text:
I spoke to her. It’s taken care of.
The tension drains out of my shoulders. Thank God. Disaster has been averted once again, if only temporarily. Olivia Reynolds has been spared, and she doesn’t even know it. I shudder to think of what might have happened if I were rushing into the city every day for a job. I might never have found out about this girl.
“I’ll think about the job,” I lie, as I reach for the remote control.
Chapter 19
Olivia
It’s an embarrassing fact that my bedroom isn’t much different than it was when I was a little kid. I still have posters all over my walls of cute cats and dogs—there’s nothing cuter than a kitten sleeping on a puppy. I still need a night light in order to go to sleep. And I still have to arrange all my stuffed animals just so on my bed every night.
Tonight I cuddle with Mr. Penguin as I try to fall asleep. I push my face into his soft black and white fur, squeezing my eyes shut. Sleep, dammit!
No, this is impossible. I can’t stop thinking about Liam.
I can’t believe I had to leave the diner early. The more I think about it, the more I think Liam would have definitely kissed me. But instead, he didn’t even ask to see me again.
The whole thing has left me feeling totally unsatisfied.
Liam is soooo cute. Everything about him makes me all tingly. Every time I close my eyes, I picture him smiling at me. Also, his teeth are nice. For some reason, I’m really into teeth. Perfect, straight teeth are really sexy to me. Is that weird? Maybe. But I just think Liam is really cute.
Liam seemed really disappointed when I had to run out to meet my mother. Maybe he decided I’m not worth the effort. After all, he knows plenty of other girls at school who are prettier than I am. I’m not even the prettiest Olivia he knows.
And the worst part is I can’t even talk to Madison about it. Usually, she texts me like a million times during the night, but tonight my phone was oddly silent. It feels like a part of me is missing without Madison.
I’ll have to talk to her tomorrow. Try to make this right.
I hear something tapping against my window. I first I think maybe it’s rain, but then I realize somebody is throwing pebbles against my window. I put down Mr. Penguin and get up to investigate.
Oh my God.
It’s Liam.
He’s standing below my window, wearing a light jacket and jeans. His dark hair is tousled by the wind, and he’s craning his neck to look up at my window. He waves to me and I open the window enough to stick my head out.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He tosses a pebble in the air and catches it. “Target practice.”
I stare at him.
“I’m just kidding, Olivia. Could you… Can you come down?”
I glance behind me at the clock on my nightstand. It’s a quarter past one. My parents are surely asleep by now, as evidenced by the lack of light coming from underneath my door. They’ll never know if I slip out. And anyway, I’ll be right downstairs. “Okay, I’ll be right down.”
I’m wearing only an oversized T-shirt to sleep in, and there’s no way I’m going outside in that. Instead, I slip on a pair of jeans and a new tank top. And this time, I grab a light jacket because the temperature has dropped precipitously overnight.
Sure enough, my parents’ bedroom door is closed and the light seems to be off inside. I slip past the room, down the stairs, and into the dark kitchen. I unlock the back door and quietly slip outside, making sure not to let the door bang shut.
&n
bsp; The light from our back porch casts a shadow on Liam’s face. “Hey,” he says.
I shiver, despite my jacket. “Hi.”
I look at the sky and see the moon is full tonight. When I was in fifth grade, we learned about all the different kinds of moons. Full moon, crescent moon, new moon. I barely remember it. But I’ve always loved full moons.
Liam shoves his hands into his pockets and smiles crookedly. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“You didn’t wake me up.”
“No?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
He nods. “Me either.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I… uh, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
I swallow hard. “You… you couldn’t?”
He lifts his eyes, which look even darker than usual right now under the moonlight. “You had to rush out. I’d been… I really wanted to walk you home.”
“Oh.”
“Look, Olivia, I…” He takes a deep breath. I have no idea what he’s going to say, I’m not sure he does either. But then he takes a step forward, ducks his head down, and presses his lips against mine.
Oh. My. God.
It’s my first kiss. My first real kiss. And it is incredible. Liam is a really good kisser. Granted, I don’t have any other guys to compare him to, but I don’t need to in order to know he’s good. I mean, the first time I had ice cream, I knew that was good. And this is indescribable.
When he pulls away, my whole body is shaking. And when he runs a hand through his dark hair, I realize he’s shaking too. He gives me a lopsided smile. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day of school.”
“I’m really glad you did.”
“Yeah?” His eyes light up. “Me too.”
And then he kisses me again.
Chapter 20
Erika
I wake up from a nightmare feeling like I can’t breathe.
I don’t remember all the details from the nightmare. But I remember being in a deep pit in the ground. And somebody throwing dirt on me, burying me alive. And as they bury me, they laugh. A laugh that echoes throughout the shallow grave.
My heart is still pounding at the thought of it. I have to take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.
I turn my head to look at Jason, who is sound asleep beside me. He’s snoring softly like he always does when he sleeps on his back. His pale eyelashes flutter slightly, but he doesn’t stir. Jason has always been a deep sleeper, and he rarely suffers from insomnia. A long time ago, before we had Liam, I could have woken him up to tell him about my nightmare. He wouldn’t have been mad. He would have put his arm around me, pulled me close to him, and made me feel like everything was all right again.
But Jason doesn’t have the ability to make me feel that way anymore. Nothing can. And he has to wake up early in the morning and commute into the city. I can’t wake him up. It wouldn’t be fair to him.
It was so simple back when we were young. I met Jason over twenty years ago. I was writing an article on the tech startup company he had helped found that was quickly becoming very successful. His red-tinged brown hair, that our daughter later would inherit, was in need of a haircut and he was also in need of a shave, but he looked adorable. As he explained what the company did, his blue eyes progressively getting wider and more excited, I blurted out, “I have to tell you, I think you’re the smartest guy I’ve ever met.”
Jason stopped mid-sentence and blinked at me. “Is that a good thing?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Good. Because I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”
We were inseparable for a long time after that. We even spent a summer traveling through Europe in style after Jason sold his company for a bundle of money. It was on the Eiffel tower that he got down on one knee and proposed to me. Maybe it was cliché, but it was one of the most romantic things I could imagine.
I love Jason even more than I did that day, but admittedly, the romance isn’t what it used to be. I hate that he has to travel so far to get to work every day. And I hate the not infrequent business trips he has to take. And I’ve hated it even more since an incident that happened two years ago.
Jason told me he had a late dinner meeting at work with an investor. This is something that happens from time to time, and I didn’t think much of it. But then when he came home, he was grinning ear to ear and reeking of an unfamiliar perfume. I smelled it the second he kissed me hello. And right after that, he made a beeline for the shower.
He spent the next few weeks being particularly attentive to me. Flowers, expensive dinners out—even some diamond earrings he had caught me admiring on my computer. I couldn’t help but think that Jason was filling out every checkbox for signs of a cheating husband.
I considered confronting him about it, but in my heart, I didn’t believe my husband was a cheater. I imagined how hurt he would be if I even suggested it. I finally decided I must have imagined the perfume. Or maybe he had dinner with an investor that had particularly strong-smelling perfume and the scent clung to him. It’s like when you go out to a bar and come home reeking of smoke, even if you haven’t had a cigarette.
And after that night, I never smelled it again. So even if it did happen, it never happened again.
But there’s still that worry in the back of my head. Especially now that Jason has gotten “hot.” I wish his hours weren’t so long. I wish waitresses didn’t flirt with him when we go to restaurants, even if he doesn’t flirt back. Ultimately, I do trust him though. I don’t think he would ever cheat on me—not really.
After all, it’s not worrying about my husband that keeps me up at night.
“Jason,” I whisper. I don’t want to wake him up, but if he happens to be up, then I wouldn’t be at fault.
He snores.
Fine. He isn’t waking up. And I’m not going to fall asleep again so fast. May as well get up and make myself some tea.
I slide my feet into my slippers and grab my fluffy blue housecoat from the dresser where I throw it every morning. I yawn and pad out into the hallway. I start for the staircase, but something stops me.
The door to Liam’s bedroom is ajar.
Liam never leaves the door to his bedroom open at night. Ever. Not even when he was five years old. He always wants the door closed tight. The sight of that door slightly open is as terrifying to me as my nightmare. When it comes to Liam, unexpected is always bad.
I walk over to the bedroom door and push it the rest of the way open. I squint into the darkness of my son’s room.
It’s empty.
I race down to the living room, my heart pounding. Maybe I’ll find Liam on the couch, watching television. Like me, he often has difficulty sleeping. Even though I make him go to bed at ten, I know he’s up far later. He told me once that he only needs five hours of sleep.
But Liam isn’t in the living room. And he’s not in the kitchen. Or either of the bathrooms—downstairs or upstairs. I comb the entire house and even look out on the porch and in the backyard before I race back up the stairs to my bedroom.
“Jason!”
So much for not waking him up. But our son is missing. I can’t not say anything to him. What am I supposed to do now? Go back to sleep after Liam vanished from his room in the middle of the night?
Jason’s eyes crack open. He rubs at them with the back of his fists like he’s two years old. “Erika?”
“Liam’s gone!” I wring my hands together. “He’s not in the house. He went somewhere.”
I stare at Jason, waiting for him to get as upset as I am. He rubs his eyes again. Yawns. Honestly, I’m not feeling his fear right now.
“Jason,” I try again. “I can’t find Liam and it’s two in the morning.”
“Okay, relax. He’s not a baby.” He yawns again. “Did you try calling his phone?”
I can’t believe that somehow I did not think to do that. I’m amazed by my husband’s ability to think rationally in any situation.
“Hello?”
I feel a rush of relief at the sound of Liam’s voice. Jason mouths: Told you so. “Liam! Where are you?”
“Oh.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I couldn’t sleep. So I went out and took a walk.”
“At two in the morning? I was worried sick!”
“Dad said I could walk around the block if I couldn’t sleep.”
I look at Jason accusingly. “Did you tell him he could go outside and walk around the block in the middle of the night?”
Jason taps his chin. “Uh…”
I’ll deal with him later. I turn my attention back to the phone. “Liam, I want you to come home right now.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
He’s quiet again. “Okay. I’ll come right home.”
We hang up, and now I’m free to yell at my husband. Apparently he has absolutely no common sense. “You told him it was okay to wander the neighborhood in the middle of the night? Seriously?”
Jason sits up straighter in bed. “Okay, look, I know you’re mad. But this neighborhood is really safe. It’s not like he’s a little kid. He’s as tall as I am. He’s an athlete. He can defend himself.”
“Not against a knife. Or a gun.”
“You really think somebody is prowling our neighborhood with a knife or a gun?”
“It’s just not a good idea.”
“Come on, Erika. He’s almost an adult. You really think something is going to happen to him?”
No. If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think anything is going to happen to Liam. I don’t think he’s going to get mugged or attacked. Liam can take care of himself. I’m not at all worried about that.
What I’m worried about is Liam happening to somebody else. Because my first thought when his bedroom was empty was: what does he want to do that he can only do at two in the morning?