When He Fell (14 page)

If I indulge in a little bit of psychoanalysis, I can see that it is also married men’s unavailability that attracts me. There’s no risk of rejection, if a married man doesn’t choose you. I’m not putting myself out there to be hurt by someone, to have him walk away like both of my parents did. Besides Ben’s father, I’d never taken it farther than a heightened awareness, a bit of flirting, the casual brush of the hand. Until Lewis.

Now Lewis comes into the room, staying by the foot of the bed, making no move to hug or touch me even though I crave that comfort. “How is he?” he asks and I nod towards Ben’s inert form.

“See for yourself.” I don’t mean to sound snippy, but Ben has been ‘regaining consciousness’ for nearly a week.

“Maddie,” Lewis says. “I’m so, so sorry.” It’s exactly what Joanna said, but it’s different coming from Lewis. I know he really is sorry, that he knows, at least a little, of what I am going through. How alone I am.

“Me too,” I say softly. I will him to come over and hold me. He doesn’t.

Instead he glances at Ben. “It’s so hard to believe just a couple of weeks ago he was kicking my butt on the Xbox,” he says, his voice hoarse, and even though I don’t mean to, a little, muffled cry escapes me. That was the last time I saw Lewis. Before Ben fell. Before everything fell apart.

“Oh, Maddie…” he says, and I can’t tell if he sounds defeated or sympathetic. He comes towards me and when his arms close around me I don’t resist. I rest my cheek against his chest and listen to the steady thud of his heart. He smells like leather and wood shavings. Everything about him is solid, certain. I wonder if Joanna knows how lucky she is, and with a needling of guilt I think she does.

The last time I saw Lewis, just two weeks ago, he brought Ben back to my apartment after having taken him and Josh downtown to go bowling after school. I’d just got home from work and I was in the middle of changing; I’d taken off my blazer and heels but still wore my skirt and blouse.

When I answered the door I saw Lewis’s gaze dip down to my cleavage and then back up again, lightning quick, and that, for better or for worse, was enough to light a fire inside me.

In the two years plus Ben and Josh had been friends, Lewis and I had spent plenty of time together, but he’d never once looked at me like that. I’d wanted him to, and I’d toyed with the idea of flirting with him, of nudging him in that direction, but I’d always chickened out. I didn’t want to wreck our friendship. I didn’t want to wreck Ben and Josh’s friendship. And what was the point, when I already enjoyed what we had, the four of us together?

But with Lewis’s little look at my cleavage, I felt hope roar to life within me. I wanted more. I wanted this man, if just for a evening And so I opened the door wider and invited them in, adopting a playful attitude, nothing too obvious. I asked about the bowling and teased the boys a bit about how many strikes and spares they got before I turned to Lewis.

“I was just about to order a pizza,” I said oh-so casually. “Do you guys want to stay?” And I turned to smile at Josh, as if this invitation was really meant for him.

“Ben has a new soccer game on his Xbox,” I added, hoping I wasn’t pushing too much, seeming too eager. Lewis had never stayed for dinner before. We’d gone to the park, to the movies, to the bowling alley. We’d trick-or-treated with the boys when Joanna was working, and we’d painted pumpkins in Central Park. But everything had been centered around Ben and Josh; Lewis and I were just the handlers, the accessories, even if we chatted and laughed together.

This felt different. Felt like more.

“It’s called FIFA, Mom,” Ben said, in that well-duh tone he had mastered so well.

Lewis looked conflicted, and I remember how he slid his phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket and checked the screen. “Mom’s staying late at work tonight,” he said to Josh, who shrugged in reply, his gaze sliding around the room, not meeting anyone’s. “So I guess it’s all right.”

And only then did Lewis turn to look at me. I don’t know if I saw unease or admiration in his eyes right then. Probably both. I gave him a very slightly flirty smile and told him I needed to go change. Lewis’s eyes darkened and he nodded tightly.

I changed into skinny jeans and a cami top with a cute little cardigan; if Lewis hadn’t been there, it would have been yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt. While the boys played on the Xbox I took out a couple of pizza menus and brandished them at Lewis.

“What do you like on your pie?”

“Anything. Everything.” He stood leaning against the kitchen counter, his hands shoved into the back pockets of his jeans. “What about you?”

“Same,” I answered. “I’ve never been picky.”

Lewis was looking at me with sympathy, perhaps even pity. “You grew up in foster care, didn’t you?” he asked and I stilled, because I’d forgotten that I’d said as much once, maybe a year ago, when Lewis was dropping Ben off and asked what I was doing for Thanksgiving and I’d admitted to not having any family. He’d mentioned his own absent father and deadbeat mother, and we’d shared a brief moment of solidarity. Parents can sometimes suck.

“Yeah, that’s right,” I said then. I felt at odds with my own personality: flirty career woman or former foster child? Lewis knew me as both. He saw beneath my banter and for a second I imagined that he could see me as the girl I was, squirreling food away under my bed because I wasn’t always sure how much I’d get at mealtime, hollow-eyed, hungry, and so unhappy. I didn’t know if I liked that he could see that girl, or hated it.

Lewis rested a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly and I tried to smile.

“I survived.” I glanced over at the boys, and saw Josh gazing at us with a puzzled look on his face. I stepped away from Lewis and he dropped his hand.

Lewis didn’t say anything more then, and we ended up busting on Burgdorf for a little while. We both mocked the progressive mumbo jumbo, but recognized, silently, that our sons fit in there. We sat on the sofa, our thighs nudging each other, and watched the boys play FIFA on the Xbox. After awhile Lewis played Ben, laughing when my son scored twice as many goals as he did.

Sitting there, I thought how normal we seemed. I indulged in the forbidden fantasy that this was my life, my husband, my boys. It was a daydream I had begun to enact whenever the four of us were together; how could I not? When people saw us, they assumed we were a family. When we bought ice cream once, the lady behind the counter had handed us our cones, saying, “One for Mom, one for Dad.” No one had corrected her. Even Ben had said a couple of times, wistfully, that he wished Lewis was his dad. Why couldn’t I dream for a little bit? It wasn’t as if it was hurting anyone.

Now Lewis ends the hug first, easing me away from him, his hands resting on my shoulders. He looks down into my face. “How are you doing, Maddie?” he asks. “Really?”

“Really? I don’t know.” He drops his hands and I step away. “I’m just taking each day as it comes.” I glance at Ben. “I want him to wake up. It’s been so long, Lewis. Almost a week.”

“It’ll happen.” As always, Lewis sounds so steady. So sure. Considering how shitty his own childhood has been, I don’t understand how he can be so certain that things will work out. And even though he can’t know what will happen with Ben, I am comforted.

I sit down next to Ben and Lewis takes the other chair in the room, pulling it up to Ben’s other side. He glances at me. “Do you mind if I sit here for a little bit?”

Mind?
I shake my head. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and then I blurt, “Did Joanna tell you they were on the rocks?”

“Yes,” Lewis says after a pause. “She told me.”

“Why do you think they were up there?”

“I don’t know. Josh hasn’t said anything.” He hesitates. “He insists they weren’t fighting.”

“Ben and Josh have never fought.”

“I know. There’s something strange about this whole thing.” He turns to look at me. “But maybe the real question is, why didn’t the playground supervisor call them off?”

I nod almost frantically. “Exactly.”

“And you haven’t had an answer?”

I think of Juliet. “Not one I’m satisfied with.”

“Me neither, considering they’ve suspended Josh over it.” He sighs. “I know that’s nothing compared with—”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I understand.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry about Josh. Is he—is he okay?”

Lewis’s expression clouds and he gives a shrugging sort of shake of his head. “He’ll get there.” He pauses. “Do you blame him?”

“No,” I say, and Lewis raises his eyebrows, clearly skeptical. “Maybe a little,” I amend. I take a deep breath. “If he hadn’t pushed him…”

“I know.” Lewis rakes a hand through his hair, his eyes closing briefly. “I
know.
”

We sit in silence, Ben between us, breathing, twitching. Alive, at least. Finally Lewis shifts in his seat and asks, “So how are you going to get those answers?”

“I’m thinking…” I pause, weighing my words. “I’m considering a lawsuit.” It’s the first time I’ve voiced this idea out loud. “Against the school. For negligence. That’s what they were afraid of, after all.” Lewis doesn’t say anything and I force myself to ask, “Do you disapprove?”

“Disapprove?” He shakes his head. “I’ve already given Burgdorf over a hundred grand in tuition, and they turned on my son the moment things got tricky. I don’t owe them anything. Neither do you. And if they
were
negligent… But you’ll have to find that out. They could just as easily turn it back on you, on Ben, for disobeying the rules.” He pauses. “On Josh, too. All the kids know they’re not allowed up on the rocks. The boys knew they were disobeying.”

“I know.” But they’re nine, I think. And Ben is boisterous. His teachers knew that. Juliet certainly knew that. But she was probably talking to Helen Lanfer about where they were going to vacation next. Aix-en-Provence or Lake Como? “I’m not sure about it,” I say to Lewis. “I haven’t even looked up a lawyer. I’m just…thinking.”

He nods. “But don’t leave it too late. There can be a statute of limitations on these things.”

We both glance back at Ben. “He’s not going anywhere,” I say quietly. “And he’s not getting better anytime soon.”

And then, as if to prove us wrong, Ben opens his eyes. I jerk upright, a gasp of astonishment on my lips.

“
Ben…
” I cry and lean forward, wanting him to see me. I can tell that he’s not focusing on anything. His gaze moves vacantly around the room and his cracked lips part. “Ben,” I say again, and my voice breaks. “Ben, honey, it’s Mom. Can you hear me? Sweetheart…” Tears slip down my face unchecked. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment for so
long
. I reach for his hand, and his fingers are limp in my own. “Ben…” I want him to say something,
do
something. I want this to be momentous, miraculous, but of course it isn’t. After a few more stunned seconds Ben’s eyes close again.

I fight a swamping sense of disappointment and turn to Lewis, conscious of the tears on my cheeks, the break in my voice as I speak. “That’s the first time he’s opened his eyes.”

“I know,” Lewis says. He sounds a little choked up himself. He’s had a good relationship with Ben these last few years. He’s been able to handle Ben’s boisterous moods, which is probably another reason I gravitated towards him. I want a man like Lewis in my life.
I want Lewis.

“I’m glad you were here,” I blurt, not caring if this is treading in deep and dangerous waters. “I’m glad you shared this with me, Lewis.” I glance back at Ben. “Maybe he recognized your voice. You know Ben has always liked you. Loved you.”

Lewis releases his breath in a long, low sigh. He looks conflicted, even sad, and I know it’s because of me and my son. This pseudo-family of his that depends on him, needs him, but can’t have him.

“I’m glad too,” he finally says.

A few minutes later a nurse comes in and I tell her about Ben, and then Dr. Velas is there, doing tests and checking his vitals, and Lewis rises from his chair. I’m still holding Ben’s hand; I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to leave him in case he opens his eyes again. But I don’t want Lewis to leave either.

Lewis comes over to me and leans down. I can smell the leather of his jacket, the soap on his skin. He brushes his lips against my cheek, making tears well up again. I blink them back.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he says. “And keep me updated about Ben. I’ll be in touch.”

I nod, still blinking rapidly, everything in me protesting his leaving, and he walks out of the room.

That night we shared a pizza—only a little over two weeks ago and yet another lifetime—we pried the boys off of the Xbox, and then we sat around the table like a family, chatting and joking. Even Josh seemed lively; Lewis kept asking him if he knew any pizza facts, and Josh rose to the challenge.

The largest pizza was one hundred and twenty-two feet wide and used two thousand pounds of tomato sauce. The most popular pizza topping in Japan is squid.

“Oh, gross,” Ben said with relish and I laughed and shook my head.

“Where do you learn these things, Josh?”

“He has books of facts,” Lewis said, and rested his hand lightly on top of Josh’s head. It was a simple gesture, and yet one that was replete with love. “Lots of books.”

Josh grinned and nodded, and the conversation moved on. I watched them all with a feeling of pride, as if we really were a family. Lewis was so good with both Josh and Ben, even though they were so different. My heart swelled with desire, along with something deeper. Something I’d never let myself feel before.

A couple of times Lewis’s gaze met mine and then skittered away again. Was he feeling the attraction that I was? Did he look at us gathered around the table and see a family, or was that just my own fantasy? When he gave me those quick, sneaking looks, I was sure he was feeling something too, and I was glad. So glad.

Then, suddenly, it was over. Lewis was hurrying Josh into his coat, and he sneaked a few glances at his phone. I could tell he was tense, that it was later than he wanted it to be. Joanna would be waiting. But I didn’t want to think about Joanna, refused to let her intrude into my fantasy.