The Good Son Carolyn Mills (best english novels to read txt) 📖

“Do you think Roger is disappointed that he never had any kids?” Amir asked me once, after we’d spent an afternoon decorating Easter eggs with Roger and Beatrice. I was standing at the sink, rinsing a handful of radishes for a salad.

“No,” I said, turning off the tap and setting the radishes on a paper towel. “Why would he be disappointed? My guess is he didn’t want kids.”

Amir poured himself a beer and sat down at the table. “I bet Beatrice did. That would explain why she’s so uptight about everything in her house. It’s the one thing over which she has complete control.”

I slid a cutting board in front of him, along with the radishes. “Don’t slice them too thin,” I warned him. Amir probably assumed that, like him, everyone else wanted kids, and that if a couple like Roger and Beatrice didn’t have any, it must be because they couldn’t, not because they simply chose not to.

I didn’t know the real reasons behind Roger and Beatrice being childless, but I, for one, completely understood the instinct not to have children. I just never shared that small fact with Amir. Not that it matters now.

In the two years that I’ve been dating Jason, we’ve only been to Roger and Beatrice’s house a handful of times. Generally speaking, we don’t do a whole lot of socializing as a couple — not like how it was with Amir. There was an occasion, however, when Jason and I invited Roger and Beatrice to play cards at my house, and while they were over, Mom stopped by. At first, I thought the reason she was acting all weird was because I hadn’t invited her to our little card party. Later, I realized she was just surprised that Jason and I were interacting with other people. She said as much when I tried to apologize.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” she replied. “I still have plenty of friends.”

WITH JASON, THINGS ARE JUST different than they were with Amir. I don’t usually compare the two; in fact, I try to make it a point not to, but now that I’ve got it stuck in my head that Jason is ready to propose, I can’t help but think about the last time I agreed to marry somebody. Amir was one-of-a-kind: sweet, thoughtful, gentle, and surprisingly funny. He wasn’t too hard to look at either. Besides being physically attractive, he had an almost hypnotic charm that drew people to him. Jason is sweet too, but he’s more withdrawn. Possibly because his ex-wife shit all over the life they’d built and brutally abused his trust. I wonder if Amir became more withdrawn after I broke off our engagement. If losing me took some of the air out of his sails. There are times I’d like to know how he’s doing, but then I remember that I have no one to ask, not to mention, no right to ask.

I have convinced myself that Jason and I are better suited to each other than Amir and I ever were. Amir deserves someone uncomplicated and wholly emotionally available, not a closed-off iceberg like me. Jason, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind my occasional coldness. At least I don’t think he does, and anyways, he can be just as distant. We give each other space; that’s why we work. Although, if that’s really true, then why was I so freaked out at the thought of him proposing? I concentrate on swallowing the last bites of my dry tuna sandwich, noticing as I chew, that my jaw has started to ache. I try to imagine Jason and I exchanging vows, but it’s hard to concentrate because it’s not just my jaw that hurts, it’s my whole damn head.

Next week, I decide, after my interview is done and over with and if I still have a job, I will seriously entertain the thought of talking to Jason about moving in together. We’ve already agreed my house is the better option since I have a yard and a garage, not to mention my darkroom. Hell, even if I don’t have a job, I’m going to tell him I’m ready, because if I can’t wrap my head around us living together, I’ll never be able to contemplate marriage. And I don’t want to scare him off. I don’t want him to give up on me. I do believe, in my heart of hearts, that I am his second chance. He is certainly mine.

AFTER WORK, I STAND IN the shower for a long time, trying to get warm. I can’t shake the feeling that I set something irreparable into motion when I blurted out at the restaurant that I wasn’t ready for Jason to move in. How did I expect him to react? And how will he react when out of the blue I appear to have suddenly changed my mind? Which also begs the question: have I really changed my mind?

My weird little outburst at the restaurant is Ricky’s fault, I think irrationally. If he hadn’t just divulged the fact that he was once again about to royally fuck up his marriage, I wouldn’t have been so defensive, so freaked out by the idea of Jason proposing. I bet this Dee Dee chick has big boobs. I remember one Christmas when Ricky said, right in front of Brenda, that he’d be willing to pay for her to get a boob job if she ever wanted one.

“I mean, that’s an investment I’d be happy to make,” he said, grinning around the table at the rest of us.

She’d slapped him playfully on the arm, but I’d been embarrassed for her. And pissed off. Thinking about his comment now, I’m reminded of the time I was rooting through Ricky’s closet looking for his old baseball cleats when I came across a rolled-up magazine stuffed inside a sock. I pulled it out and was shocked to discover page after page of naked women, brazenly showing off what