The Lover's Children

Chapter 79 – Solstice – Part 12

KLEMPNER

The door slams in my face.

Ah… Shit…

Now what?

For long seconds, I stand on Mitch’s doorstep, part of me expecting it to open. Part of me knowing it

won’t.

A loud Click! The turning of a key.

Metal slams, bolts drawing top and bottom. Seconds later, the window blinks dark.

There’s a thumping noise, and it takes me long seconds to realise it’s my own heartbeat, pounding

away under my ribs.

Fucked that up, didn’t I…

It’s the first time Mitch has been truly angry with me since… since we re-joined our lives.

But was it only anger in her face?

No…

I saw fear there too.

Fear for me?

Tugging my jacket tighter around myself, I realise I’m shivering. But the cold’s not from the air. The

evening’s cool, but not cold. The chill comes from inside. My gut tightens. Belatedly, I realise I’m

rubbing at my temples.

Like a fool, I remain on the doorstep, waiting for Mitch to open up, to smile at me, to tell me it was all a

mistake. But the door remains stubbornly closed, and beyond, there’s only silence.

A breeze springs up, and my neck and spine prickle.

Perhaps I should knock next door.

But common sense reasserts. If Haswell’s driver brought Mitch and the children back, then everyone in

the household knows what I did.

I… can’t face them.

The great Larry Klempner…

Scared of getting his wrists slapped…

Miserably, I trudge around the side of the hotel.

Sleep in the car?

?

Never room to stretch out properly…

A couple of benches by the parking lot, out of obvious view, look like the best option for the night.

Tugging my jacket around myself, I stretch out on the nearest.

The benches are slatted. Perfectly functional for casual seating. But ungodly uncomfortable for Nôvel/Dr(a)ma.Org - Content owner.

sleeping on. I roll one way, and a slat jabs at my hip. I shift and another slat digs into my shoulder. In

the end, I settle for lying on my back, not something I ever found comfortable, but at least lying flat,

nothing’s grabbing at me.

*****

“You know, if you stay like that all night, you'll not be able to move tomorrow.”

I open gluey eyes to Michael's silhouette. Cast against the hotel lighting his shaggy head of hair runs

wild in the breeze.

“Klempner, what are you doing out here? Slatted benches aren't designed for sleeping on.” A tremble

to his words suggests suppressed laughter.

I roll to sit up, suppressing a groan as muscles, stiff with chill, line up in protest. “No, they’re not. But

I’ve slept in worse places. And Mitch’s apartment wasn't an option. She made that clear.”

“Yes, I had a feeling you’d need to wear your hard hat when Ross brought her back earlier. But unless

you want to play the martyr, we have guest beds galore in the house. Or there's a couple of rooms free

in the hotel if you prefer to keep your head low.”

“I'll admit, It's a tempting offer…” I sit upright, shading my eyes against the glare of the hotel lights.

Michael sits beside me. “Larry, come to the house. You can tell us what happened. I'm guessing you

had good reason to overlook your wife, three kids and a dog.” The humour fades from his voice.

Nonetheless, there’s a sardonic edge to his choice of phrase.

“How was she? When she got back.”

He scratches his scalp, grimacing. “Incandescent, I think, covers it. But underneath, I'd say you scared

her. Mitch doesn't cope well with you behaving unpredictably.”

“Yes, I'm beginning to realise that.”

“I might mention that Charlotte's pretty unimpressed too. And Beth. You abandoned Cara and Adam.

I’m guessing they’ll both have something to say.”

Oh, God...

“Is there anyone in there not completely pissed off with me?”

He pauses. “You might start with an apology to James and Richard. I realise you left Cara and Adam in

the care of a responsible adult, but Mitch was... explosive... in her opinions on your vanishing trick.”

Crap…

“Listen, thanks for the offer. But I think I'd rather sleep in the hotel if that's...”

Michael cuts me short. “Charlotte and Beth are already in bed. You may have noticed that the women

of our…” He raises fingers, making air commas… “… family run a kind of sorority support system. If

you want to benefit from the fraternal version, you'd better fill me, James and Richard in with what

happened.”

*****

The fire’s well made up and the warm scent of brandy hangs in the air.

They’re waiting for me, James and Haswell, watching in silence as Michael ushers me into the lounge.

Each cradles a glass. The decanter, on a side table between them, contains only an inch or so.

What’s expected of me?

“Before we go any further, I owe you all an apology.”

“Damn right,” mutters Haswell.

For some reason, Michael speaks for me. “He’s half-frozen. He needs something inside him. Do we

have anything hot on hand, James?”

James stalks out in silence, returning only a couple of minutes later carrying a tray with a bowl of

something hot and a chunk of bread. Still silent, he shoves the tray at me.

Chunks of meat and vegetables bob appetizingly in a broth fragrant with garlic, cilantro and something

else, savoury and herbal. “James. Thank you. I…”

Michael interrupts. “Larry, eat first. Warm up. Then, tell us what happened.”

My enjoyment of the excellent stew loses its edge against Haswell’s purse-lipped disapproval and

James’ slit-eyed silence. Nonetheless, I polish off the bowl, swiping out the inside with bread. “Thank

you. That was just what I needed.”

James, chin resting in his palm, fingers covering his mouth, nods a bare acknowledgement.

“And, so…?” says Haswell, his voice level.

“I saw him again.”

“Who?”

“The figure in the grey hoodie. The one I was suspicious of the first time. I was with Mitch and the

children in the park. I saw him again. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to worry her.”

“You saw the man you suspect of being the Surgeon,” hisses James, “And you didn’t say anything to

Mitch?”

“I was with her. So was Bear. And it was from a distance. He wasn’t interested in us.”

Haswell raises a hand. “Calm down, James. Let’s hear him out.” James glares but nods me to

continue.

“I made some excuse to Mitch and followed him. But I lost him, so I returned to Mitch. Then, later, I saw

him a second time. And… he’d… behaved similarly to the first time. Tossed a stone into the water.”

“A stone?” What passes for Haswell’s expression of patience crumples. Even Michael shakes his head,

looking confused.

“It sounds bizarre, I know. I mean… It was a small thing. A small, mean action. Completely petty. The

stone, it scared the ducks. The kids were feeding them…” All three men stare at me as though I’ve lost

the plot entirely.

“Look, Klempner…” Michael scratches at his stubble… “I’m happy to accept that you thought you had

good reason for going off as you did, even if it’s making no sense to me. But you should have said

something to Mitch. Or you could have called. Any of us. A one-line message to let us know something

was happening and we needed to come fetch Mitch and the kids.”

“I know that. I’ve already apologised.”

“Apology isn’t the point.” Exasperation skitters over his face. “We all know empathy’s not your strong

suit…”

“You could say the same for others around here…” I drawl. James reddens.

Michael shoots him another Calm Down look but sounds impatient now. “Klempner, the point is you

scared the shit out of Mitch. And you left her, in the most literal sense, holding the baby. Next time, let

us know.”

“Assuming there is a next time.” James’ tone would splinter glass. Haswell Hmmms agreement.

Michael stands, his usual bon ami eclipsed. “Okay, I think that’s enough for one night.” He points to the

door. “Larry, get some sleep. James, cool it. Richard… just…” He waves a hand in a Fuck-It gesture…

“… just do whatever you want.” He heads out. James follows, leaving me with Haswell.

He eyes me, voice dry. “Screwed that up, didn’t you.”

I palm the back of my neck. “You noticed.”

“Want a drink?”

“Wouldn’t mind.”

He passes me a glass. Slides the decanter toward me.

“Thanks.” The brandy slips down my throat like burning nectar. “What do the marriage rules have to say

about this?”

“Ah.” Haswell sniffs, rubs his nose. “I'd suggest something on the flowers, chocolates and dinner

lines…” He raises a forefinger. “… And your absolute promise that it never happens again.”

“Not a problem.” I knock back my drink.

*****

The following morning, I give breakfast with ‘the family’ a miss. I’m not keen to meet up with Jenny just

yet. Doubtless, she’ll blister my ears.

Deservedly so…

I am, however, keen to set things right with Mitch.

Waiting to be sure the sound of chatter and movement is elsewhere in the house, I take the coward’s

exit, slipping away through the back door, then make my way to Mitch’s apartment.

As I cross the courtyard, Jenny’s mare nickers at me from the stable door, tossing her head as I pass.

At least someone’s pleased to see me…

At Mitch’s door, I pause. It stands open. Only by an inch or so, but… open.

An invitation?

Don’t make assumptions…

Pushing a little, it wheezes on its hinges, easing wider. “Mitch?”

…

…

“Mitch?”

“Come in, Larry.” Her voice cracks on the last syllable.

Inside, she sits at her small table. A cup of her peppermint tea steams. A boiled egg is half-eaten,

congealed in its shell.

But her eyes are swollen and red, shadowed underneath. Her face is blotchy. An avalanche of tissues

lies crumpled and wet on the table.

Ah… Christ…

I did this…

Covering the space between us in two strides, I sweep arms around her, pulling her to me. “I’m sorry,

Mitch. Really, I’m sorry. I just didn’t think.”

She shakes and shivers against me, burying her face into my chest. “Don’t ever do that again, Larry.

Never again.” But her arms clasp around my neck and she doesn’t pull away as I hold her.

*****