31
It’s just science
[Midge]
I drift but don’t sleep. Drills zoom in the background. I think I hear water running. I will myself to melt into the couch. Not certain how much time passes, I sense someone before me. Fingers brush over my hair, and I know from the touch it’s Hank.
The cushions at my back are removed, but I don’t question anything. My head is killing me, like a vise wanting to squeeze my brains out. The pain above my left eye is severe enough I can’t open it even though the lights are off in the office and the blinds on the windows have been pulled. Gentle hands shift me, and Hank lies beside me. I can’t even muster the energy to ask what he’s doing.
“Lift,” he commands softly, and I pick up my head, my eyes opening in a fog. He presses my head back down against his bent arm. His other hand comes to my head, massaging light circles at my temples with a tender thumb.
“That feels nice,” I mutter although I’m not certain I speak. A light kiss on my forehead rewards me, and I realize the words left my mouth.
“I hate seeing you like this, little lady.” His typically rough voice sounds deeper, the concern a warm bath enveloping me. We stay quiet a moment as he works his magic with his fingers on my head.
“Were you like this with her?” The question isn’t angry or sharp or sarcastic. I’m curious as I recall him brushing and braiding my hair. I’d like to think I’m not a jealous woman, but I realize I am in regards to Kit Carrigan.
“Like what?” He stiffens beside me.
“Intimate.” His body relaxes.
“Isn’t that a fancy word for sex?” He chuckles softly.
“I didn’t think so. It means tender, close, connecting.”
“Then no. She didn’t suffer like this, but she would get stressed out. Sometimes, I needed to talk her down from the proverbial ledge. She was confident on stage but unsure off it.” There’s more he isn’t saying, and with the pain in my head, my heart can’t handle any more. He kisses me again, lingering at my hairline.
“Please, don’t think about her right now.” His voice cracks, and I shift against him. I nod but the movement pinches; however, his body heat seeps into me. He smells freshly showered and spicy. He cleaned up for me. My leg slips between his.
“Did you see Lawson?”
He chuckles in response. “Lady, quit worrying about everything. I’m going to see him tonight. I found a transition counselor, and she’s helping me figure out how best to enter Lawson’s life.” It must be so difficult. It’s not like someone said, surprise, I’m pregnant, and he has to learn to be a father from scratch. He’s starting at the top, when the child is an adult and has special needs in addition.
“That sounds like a good plan.” Another kiss meets my forehead while his thumb moves over my skin. We grow quiet a second.
“Intimate,” he repeats as if he’s been thinking about the word. “I like the sound of that.” I smile in response, because I don’t really want to talk anymore. Sensing this, he adds, “Rest, little lady. Let me hold you. Let me be here for you.”
The words remind me of our first meeting. Hank is here for me, and I walked away from him. I’m so confused, and it all adds to the pain in my head. Settling into the rhythm of his massage, I allow my body to relax, drifting deeper against him. It’s a weird state of consciousness, not being able to move, and right now, I don’t want to.
+ + +
There’s really no rest for a mother, so hours later, when I’m finally home, Liam springs on me. “I need to make a volcano.”
For the love of all that’s holy, what?
“When is it due?” I’m holding my breath, but I know the answer.
“Thursday.” Thankful for small miracles, this gives us two nights to work on this thing. I don’t even want to ask how long he’s known about it or complain that he has baseball practice in an hour and we don’t have a single supply. After two hours and a hundred dollars at the local hobby store, I have the ingredients for a kickass volcano. Of course, it’s almost nine o’clock when Liam gets home from practice, and he wants to start the project. We’re mixing up paper maché batter because I can’t have the kid who wants to use a simple soda bottle and a mint candy.
“We need to make it look as real as possible.” He uses hand motions to emphasize the boom he thinks this project should express. He’s been working on research behind the scenes, and I’m proud of him for not asking me for every detail. I’m more worried about his paper than the physical volcano, but tonight I don’t have time for proofreading. As he’s stirring up the mush for the maché, the doorbell rings, and I can’t imagine who is soliciting at this hour. Assuming it’s a marketer of some type, I peek through the window first and find Hank standing on my stoop.
“Hank.” As I open the door, I breathe out his name like I need to intake him for air. He looks so good standing under the front light, his hands in his pockets like a nervous teenager. My heart skips a beat. “What are you doing here?”
He looks down at his feet for a second and then up at me, eyes silvery.
“You broke up with me.” My mouth opens, ready to protest. I didn’t. I just wanted to give him the space he’ll need for his son. He speaks before I can explain. “I decided I’m not letting you.”
He steps into the living room, forcing me against the door, and kisses me tenderly in his Hank way. Soft pulls and full exploration like he wants every corner, every crevice before he’ll release me. I’m stunned into submission, and my eyes remain closed even after he pulls away.
“Mom!” My name brings me back to reality. I hear the scrape of a kitchen stool on the wood floor.
“Hank, tonight probably isn’t a good time to—”
“Hank,” Liam calls, standing between the kitchen and the living room. “Come see my volcano.” Hank peers down at me, a smile slowly forming. He leans in to kiss me quick, and I brace myself for the too-short connection. Only he stops, lingering. After three short pulls at my lips, he steps back. I’m stunned again. He’s changed it up. Still holding the doorknob, my back against the wood, I watch his backside as he heads for my kitchen and Liam’s science experiment.
+ + +
Around ten, the paper maché needs to set. Hank has helped Liam practice the volcano over the sink as a test.
“All experiments need a run-through before the real explosion,” Liam tells me although I’m certain this is something Hank said. “Results can be inconclusive without thorough investigation.”
I snort at the scientific jargon before telling Liam he needs a shower and bed. Staring at the mess he made, I shake my head while Hank gathers up the supplies and forms a neat arrangement on my island counter.
“Thank you for this.” I nod at the organization and a hearty looking mound that might resemble a volcano once it’s painted.
“Glad to see you feel better.” He winks.
“Thank you for that as well.”
“Anything you need, little lady.” His hands work to clean up, but I sense he’s doing it to distract himself.
“How was Lawson?” He stills, pressing down on the island. His head hangs.
“I’m in over my head. I wanted this so badly.” His head shoots up. “No, I wanted the truth so badly. Yet now that I have it, it isn’t helping. I’m more angry with her than I was before. And I hate myself for all the things I did, thinking it’s my fault Lawson is the way he is.”
Stepping toward him, I grip his wrist.
“You know that’s not true. It’s genetics and mutations and all kinds of things I don’t understand, but it wasn’t something you or even Kit, for that matter, did. Lawson just is who he is.”
Hank nods, taking my hand in his and raising it to his lips.
“I can’t do this alone.” The implication lies underneath. He wants me to be there for him.
“I’m so sorry for the other night. I shouldn’t have walked out like I did.” His hand cups my jaw.
“Please forgive me for what I said.” He swallows, unable to repeat what he did. “It just slipped out, and it will never, ever happen again.” His head lowers to rest against mine. I prepare to tell him he can’t know such a thing when he explains. “I had this moment when she was in my head because you were speaking about her, and then you had the look like you were ready to bolt. And then I pushed you through the door by calling out her name. I’m so sorry.”
“It was a lot to take in at once. You hadn’t exactly told me the truth about Lawson.” We haven’t covered this omission yet, and I need to know. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You had the interview, and I wanted you to focus on the job. I knew it was important to you, and I didn’t want to be any cause for distraction. You’re a worrier, little lady. You would have deviated.” He’s right in some ways. His revelation would have consumed me as it has the past few days. “You needed to do you.”
“I thought we could do us,” I whisper, and to my surprise, his mouth crooks.
“That’s why I’m here. For us.” He kisses me sweetly a moment before pulling back. “I want us together, Middy. Let’s experiment.”
I grin at his teasing pun, but his face sobers.
“I thought it would be like this.” He nods at the counter. “Father-son time, but I’ll never have it, not in the way I envisioned. No baseball games. No science homework. No band concerts. Nothing. I always wanted a family. The band was my family in a dysfunctional way, but I wanted it all, from the bottom up. Babies to marriage to manhood.” His hands slip to my shoulders. “I’ll never have what you have, Midge, with your boys. I didn’t get a child. I got a twenty-six-year-old. I missed out on everything.”
He tugs me to him, pressing me into his chest with one hand on my head and one on my back. “Don’t ever be jealous of me, baby. You’ve had so much more. A beautiful house. A marriage. Great kids. You’ve had it all while I had the fame and nothing to show for it but a bedroom at my brother’s, a kid I didn’t know about, and a job as a mechanic instead of a musician.”
I don’t like how he makes it sound—degrading himself. He kisses my head and presses me back. “I know I said I want to make all your dreams come true, but I don’t know how. I have nothing to offer you. I’m being selfish because I want you to make all mine come true instead.”
I leap for him. Forgiveness and sorrow mix with kisses against the island. If it weren’t for the damn volcano, I’d ask him to spread me on the counter and take those words to a new level. I also have Liam upstairs, and the click of the back door lets me know Ronin is home from a study session at a friend’s. Hank and I break away like guilty teenagers.
“Hey, honey. Get all your homework done?” Ronin scoffs as he passes Hank and me. We each hold a counter opposite one other as if we need the anchor so we don’t attack.
“Yeah. I’m headed to bed.” He looks at Hank. “Ever consider shaving a bit? Might not leave all the evidence on her neck.” He continues to the living room as my mouth falls open. Hank chuckles, and our eyes meet. His twinkle with playful mischief, and he reaches for me. We come together again, making out like kids desperate to remove clothing and knowing we can’t. Slowing eventually, I walk Hank to the front door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he assures me. “I’m so glad you feel better.” I feel so much better, and it’s all because of him. Three little words linger in my head, but I won’t use them again. I’ll make it experimental instead of emotional. Can I keep my feelings in check? I’ll let this first round fizzle a bit. Results inconclusive. More data needed.