Read Online The Perfect Son by Barbara Claypole White - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Claypole White
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you explain about Mom they won’t mark us tardy.”
Dad scowled. Uh-oh. Oversharing.
“Do you get marked tardy often?”
If he expected Dad to be honest with him, he had to return the favor, even though he was betraying Mom and breaking the let’s-not-tell-Dad code. Mom had been adamant when he’d brought home the warning. It was a total brain blitz, juggling all the things Mom told him to pretend hadn’t happened. You can tell your dad X, Y, and Z, but not A, B, and C. Mom had always encouraged him to be himself around everyone except his own father. On what planet did that make sense?
Harry gave a big sigh, nodded. “Don’t be mad at Mom. It’s my fault. That’s why she started waking me up at seven fifteen. I have a hard time getting organized in the mornings. But we’ll get it right tomorrow, Dad. We will.” Mom would be super proud of his positive attitude. She loved the whole glass-half-full thing. And really, finding a positive thought was way easier than the yoga shit she’d tried to force him to master. Who had time to slow down for meditation in a crane pose? Life was way more fun at warp speed.
“Is there anything else you would care to share with me?” Dad reached for the phone.
“I need a permission slip signed for a field trip to Barnes & Noble for AP Lit. And breakfast would be good.” Harry pasted on a smile. “Mom keeps chocolate croissants in the freezer.”
For one whole moment, Harry truly believed Dad’s nostrils flared. “You know what, how about I take care of breakfast?”
“Yes, how about you do just that.”
SIX
Voices hovered beyond her eyelids. A nurse muttered about preventing bedsores and then stuck her with a syringe; Katherine whispered into a cell phone.
Sleep reached out, wrapping her close.
Sit up, Ella. Sit up.
An invisible force—a formless being—pinned her to the hospital bed. Sound shimmered into waves of light; lips moved through soundless words; a ghostly mirage leaned over to kiss her with icy breath.
“Mom?”
“Honey, you okay?” Katherine; it was Katherine’s voice.
“I think I’m hallucinating.”
“Seeing the dead mother again?”
Ella nodded slowly. The only part of her that didn’t ache was her head. She planned to keep it that way.
“Damn, you need to share those drugs,” Katherine said. “How do you feel? Like a gang of Hell’s Angels partied all night in your chest?”
“Pretty much.” Ella stared at the breakfast tray. When did that arrive? “Water?”
“On it.” Cradling Ella’s neck, Katherine raised her head and held a plastic cup to her lips.
Ella sipped through the straw, then eased her head back onto the pillow. “Throat like sandpaper. On the positive side, I didn’t croak. If my breath would hold out, we could sing Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive.’”
“That’s my girl.” Katherine packed away her laptop and started winding up the cord.
“Your deadline. God, I’m sorry, Kath.”
“You’re kidding, right? I’ve been on my very own writer’s retreat for the last twelve hours. I should be thanking you.” Katherine smiled. “Felix will be here by nine thirty. Are you still sure you want to meet with the cardiologist alone?”
“Positive. Thanks for covering for me.”
“Hey, what are best friends for, if not to lie to husbands?”
“I owe you.”
“Honey, I owe you a thousand times more.” Katherine picked up her writer’s bag and headed toward the door. “I’m going home to shower and then I’ll be back.”
“Wait. How did Felix sound—when you talked to him last night?”
“Concerned about you, which won’t do him any harm. And Harry’s fine, so no worrying about him. Velcro Max is refusing to leave his side.”
The ringing in Ella’s ears became a thunderous waterfall. She was tumbling into nothingness, falling into rapids. She grabbed the bed rail.
“Should I call the nurse?”
“No.” Ella closed her eyes and visualized the horizon. Nothing was moving; she
Dad scowled. Uh-oh. Oversharing.
“Do you get marked tardy often?”
If he expected Dad to be honest with him, he had to return the favor, even though he was betraying Mom and breaking the let’s-not-tell-Dad code. Mom had been adamant when he’d brought home the warning. It was a total brain blitz, juggling all the things Mom told him to pretend hadn’t happened. You can tell your dad X, Y, and Z, but not A, B, and C. Mom had always encouraged him to be himself around everyone except his own father. On what planet did that make sense?
Harry gave a big sigh, nodded. “Don’t be mad at Mom. It’s my fault. That’s why she started waking me up at seven fifteen. I have a hard time getting organized in the mornings. But we’ll get it right tomorrow, Dad. We will.” Mom would be super proud of his positive attitude. She loved the whole glass-half-full thing. And really, finding a positive thought was way easier than the yoga shit she’d tried to force him to master. Who had time to slow down for meditation in a crane pose? Life was way more fun at warp speed.
“Is there anything else you would care to share with me?” Dad reached for the phone.
“I need a permission slip signed for a field trip to Barnes & Noble for AP Lit. And breakfast would be good.” Harry pasted on a smile. “Mom keeps chocolate croissants in the freezer.”
For one whole moment, Harry truly believed Dad’s nostrils flared. “You know what, how about I take care of breakfast?”
“Yes, how about you do just that.”
SIX
Voices hovered beyond her eyelids. A nurse muttered about preventing bedsores and then stuck her with a syringe; Katherine whispered into a cell phone.
Sleep reached out, wrapping her close.
Sit up, Ella. Sit up.
An invisible force—a formless being—pinned her to the hospital bed. Sound shimmered into waves of light; lips moved through soundless words; a ghostly mirage leaned over to kiss her with icy breath.
“Mom?”
“Honey, you okay?” Katherine; it was Katherine’s voice.
“I think I’m hallucinating.”
“Seeing the dead mother again?”
Ella nodded slowly. The only part of her that didn’t ache was her head. She planned to keep it that way.
“Damn, you need to share those drugs,” Katherine said. “How do you feel? Like a gang of Hell’s Angels partied all night in your chest?”
“Pretty much.” Ella stared at the breakfast tray. When did that arrive? “Water?”
“On it.” Cradling Ella’s neck, Katherine raised her head and held a plastic cup to her lips.
Ella sipped through the straw, then eased her head back onto the pillow. “Throat like sandpaper. On the positive side, I didn’t croak. If my breath would hold out, we could sing Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive.’”
“That’s my girl.” Katherine packed away her laptop and started winding up the cord.
“Your deadline. God, I’m sorry, Kath.”
“You’re kidding, right? I’ve been on my very own writer’s retreat for the last twelve hours. I should be thanking you.” Katherine smiled. “Felix will be here by nine thirty. Are you still sure you want to meet with the cardiologist alone?”
“Positive. Thanks for covering for me.”
“Hey, what are best friends for, if not to lie to husbands?”
“I owe you.”
“Honey, I owe you a thousand times more.” Katherine picked up her writer’s bag and headed toward the door. “I’m going home to shower and then I’ll be back.”
“Wait. How did Felix sound—when you talked to him last night?”
“Concerned about you, which won’t do him any harm. And Harry’s fine, so no worrying about him. Velcro Max is refusing to leave his side.”
The ringing in Ella’s ears became a thunderous waterfall. She was tumbling into nothingness, falling into rapids. She grabbed the bed rail.
“Should I call the nurse?”
“No.” Ella closed her eyes and visualized the horizon. Nothing was moving; she
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