Authors: Shira Anthony
“You’re doing fine, you know.”
“Yeah?” Of course Justin could read him like a book!
Justin chuckled. “I remember what it was like when Clay was born. It was a couple of years after Mom died, and I kept wishing she was around to help,” he said.
“I’ve got plenty of people to help me.”
More reason not to be worrying.
“I still felt like a screwup, even with Vicki’s mom helping us out. Took too long to put Clay’s diaper on.” Justin chuckled. “Got a little wet.”
“Duck and cover.” Cary smiled.
“You’re doing fine. Really. She’s got a great father.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Father.
Why was it that he’d been thinking of his father since Graziella was born? “I guess it’s just hard to think of myself as a father. Especially a good one. It’s not like we had much of a role model, growing up.”
“You have Antonio,” Justin pointed out.
“I know. I wish I could be like him.” Cary forced a smile.
“You just need to be yourself.”
And what if “being myself” is being a fuckup like our father?
“You’re nothing like John and you know it.” Cary imagined Justin’s reassuring smile.
“I’m not that different.” Cary ran a hand through his hair and leaned back into the cushions on the couch.
“Yeah. You are.” Justin sighed.
“I used to dream about what he was like.” Cary rubbed his mouth with his hand. They’d talked so little about their father, and Cary was nervous about broaching the subject. More so since Justin had refused to have any contact with John when he was still alive. “I wanted a father so badly, I had this fantasy about how he’d just show up one day out of the blue. That he wasn’t really dead.” Cary sighed. “Who’d have thought it would really happen.”
“You wanted someone to play ball with. Teach you how to ride a bike,” Justin said. “I know. I wanted that too.”
“Yeah. But I realized something after I found Tonino.” Cary was determined to be honest. He’d spent too many years trying to pretend he was something he wasn’t just to make Justin feel better. But Justin hadn’t wanted him to pretend.
“Yeah? What did you realize?”
“That you were a better father to me than he ever was, but I never told you. I never thanked you for that.”
Justin said nothing for the longest time. Then Cary heard him inhale slowly through the handset. “I’m proud of you, you know,” Justin said. “And I love you.” His voice cracked almost imperceptibly with these last words.
How many times had Justin told him that, but Cary hadn’t been able to answer? “I love you too,” he said. He’d never spoken those words to Justin, at least not that he could remember. The words weren’t all that difficult to say, in the end. He’d changed.
Two days before Thanksgiving
C
ARY
TAPPED
his phone to dial Francesca.
“Pronto.” Francesca sounded tired. Cary silently wondered how anyone survived babies’ schedules. He knew she’d been up at least twice the night before to feed Graziella.
“It’s Cary. Listen, have you seen Massi?” He balanced his cell phone between his chin and his shoulder as he checked the apartment for the third time. Where could a nine-year-old boy hide?
He’d spent the better part of the morning straightening up the apartment after picking Massi up from Francesca’s. Thank God their housekeeper, Roberta, would be back next week! She’d been staying with her son and his family in Rome and had offered to come back early, but Cary and Antonio figured they could manage. Manage was a good word for it—the apartment was starting to look a bit like a war zone. And that was before Massi had come back to stay with them the night before.
“I don’t want to clean my room.” Massi had faced Cary down two hours before. “I don’t stay here with you anymore, so why do you care?”
“You
do
stay with us.” Cary repressed a sigh and remembered what Antonio had said about appealing to Massi’s desire to be a grown-up. “You can help me now by straightening up your room,” he suggested. “Your father’s already at David’s getting things set up. I can’t do everything here by myself.”
“We can do it after we get back from Thanksgiving. Why do things have to be clean now?”
“Roberta comes back next week, and we can’t leave everything a mess for her.” Cary fought the temptation to pick up the blankets and make Massi’s bed. It’d be so much easier than arguing with him.
“We can do it together,” Cary suggested.
Massi said nothing but crossed his arms and frowned at Cary.
“Massi. Please. I know you don’t want—”
“She’s the maid! It’s her job to clean!” Massi shouted.
“Massi.” Cary regretted the warning tone in his voice the minute the word left his lips. Massi was going through changes just like everyone else. “It’s not fair to Roberta—”
“I don’t care!”
“That’s enough, Massi. Finish cleaning your room.”
Massi stomped his foot. “I don’t have to do what you say!”
Cary was overtired, frustrated, and he fought not to lose his temper. “I’m going to straighten up the living room. When I get finished, I’ll check on your room.” He hoped Massi would finish up in time for them to leave for David’s villa and that would be the end of it. But when he went back to check on Massi, he was gone.
“Massi’s not with you?” Francesca asked.
“He was supposed to be cleaning up his room, and now I can’t find him.”
Shit.
How do you lose a nine-year-old?
Cary left the kitchen and checked the hall closet.
“He was pretty angry with me. Maybe he went to Gino’s house to play some soccer.” Cary walked down the hallway toward the bedrooms as he spoke. As he passed the table in the entryway, he noticed a piece of paper folded into a very small square with multiple creases, kind of like origami.
Massi.
“Hang on, Francesca. I think I found something.”
Cary set his phone down and picked up the paper, then gingerly unfolded it. He recognized Massi’s writing the minute he saw the tiny block print.
I
CAN
DO
THINGS
ON
MY
OWN
WITHOUT
YOUR
HELP
. I’
M
NOT
A
BABY
LIKE
G
RAZIELLA
. I’
LL
SHOW
YOU
I’
M
NOT
. —M
ASSI
“Oh, shit.” The note slipped from his fingers as he picked up the phone again.
“What’s wrong, Cary?” Francesca asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, I could be wrong, but….”
“But what?”
Cary tried to swallow, but the lump in his throat made it difficult. “I think Massi ran away.”
“I
T
’
S
GOING
to be fine,” Antonio told Cary as he walked into their apartment an hour later. “I’m sure he’s just gone to a friend’s house.”
“Francesca and Marissa have been calling everyone. No one’s seen him.” The roiling feeling in the pit of Cary’s stomach was now a flailing, angry beast.
“We’ll find him, caro.”
Cary wished he could be as calm as Antonio. “I know, but it’s getting late.” The sun had begun to set nearly an hour ago, and it was almost dark outside.
“I’ll go look around the park again,” Antonio said.
“I can go too.” Cary needed to do
something
. Sitting around making phone calls wasn’t doing anything. At least it didn’t feel like it.
“You should stay here in case someone calls or Massi comes back.” Antonio pulled a scarf from the closet, which only made Cary worry more. It got cold at night now. Massi hadn’t taken his coat, let alone his hat and mittens. What if Massi was out there freezing?
“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed.
“I’ll call as soon as I find him. Promise.” Antonio kissed Cary and was out the door a moment later.
When Cary’s cell phone rang an hour later, he pulled it quickly out of his pocket. “Pronto?”
“It’s Antonio.”
“Did you find him?” Cary’s heart thudded against his ribcage. Of course Antonio had found Massi. He
had
to find him, didn’t he?
“No. Not yet.”
For the first time that night, Cary heard worry in Antonio’s voice where there’d only been concern before. “Shit.”
“I’m going to try the playground and the school,” Antonio told him. “Have you heard from Marissa or Francesca?”
“Not since you left. Marissa said she was calling a few more parents of kids from Massi’s school. Tonino, do you think we should call the police? What if he’s gone somewhere out of Milan?”
“He’s a smart boy. He wants to let us know he’s angry, but I know he wants us to find him. Let’s give it a little longer. If I don’t find him at the school, I’ll call the authorities.”
“Okay.” Cary tried not to sound like the nervous wreck he was.
“It will be fine, I promise, caro,” Antonio replied.
Cary hung up the phone and began to pace again.
C
ARY
YAWNED
and looked at the clock. Four in the morning and still no Massi. Cary was still sitting on the couch, where he’d been since the police officer left an hour before. She’d asked them a few questions and noted Massi’s description and a list of places Antonio and Cary thought Massi might have gone—all of which Antonio had already visited several times.
“You really should get some sleep,” Antonio said as he sat down next to Cary.
“I’m going out.”
“Now?”
“I need to do this, Tonino.” Cary stood up and looked back at Antonio. “I know you mean well, telling me it’s not my fault and that we’re best off just staying around here until the morning, but I’m tired of sitting and waiting.”
“I really don’t know if—”
“I’ll be careful.” Cary leaned over and kissed Antonio. “I’ll call if I have any problems. Really.”
Cary knew Antonio wasn’t pleased with this, but for once he didn’t care. He wasn’t the same drunk idiot who’d been mugged years before, and he had no intention of getting into any trouble. He strode over to the front door and pulled on his leather jacket.
“Cary—”
But Cary was out the door before Antonio could finish.
E
VEN
WITH
his heavy jacket, the winter air bit at Cary’s neck after more than an hour on the street. He pushed all thoughts of Massimo wearing his T-shirt and jeans, freezing in a doorway, from his mind as he walked around the small park he’d once cruised for sex. This early in the morning, the park was deserted but for a few pigeons pecking at the paved paths through the trees and the sound of a bird on an overhead branch.
Had it been less than five years ago when he’d come here weekly, hoping for a quick fuck and a few minutes when he didn’t have to think about what a total screwup he was? He’d avoided the park when he’d taken Massi out to play soccer, the memories just too vivid and disturbing to seek it out, even when the sunlight bathed the place of its more sordid atmosphere.
Massi. God. If anything’s happened to you….
He’d been terrified when Francesca had considered moving from Milan and taking Massimo with her, but this—this was far worse. Why did it always take something bad for him to realize that what he had was so important? Why was happiness such a fragile thing? He thought of Sam and Aiden. They’d be arriving today. He remembered how Sam had called him to let him know Aiden was in the hospital after being hit by a car in London. He couldn’t even imagine what Sam must have been going through. Now it scared him to think about what might have happened if Aiden had been seriously hurt.
Cary had always known that humans were breakable things—he’d lived most of his life believing his father had died when he was a baby. When he’d turned himself around, he’d discovered how little control he really had over what might happen from one day to the next. Ironic, wasn’t it, that there’d been a twisted security to his messed-up life filled with anonymous sex, booze, and drugs? Then his heart had been numb. Now it hurt more than he’d ever realized it could.
Massi had been five years old when he’d asked Cary, “You like boys, don’t you? I mean, grown-up boys. Like Papà does? You know, better than girls.” Cary couldn’t remember much of his life before Antonio except the music he’d played. But he remembered everything about his life now: how it felt that Massi saw him as a father in much the same way he saw Antonio. How Massi had touched the screen on the ultrasound machine when he’d first seen Graziella. How Massi used to feel when he’d carried him on his shoulders. Cary laughed as he thought of this.
How it felt when I still
could
carry him!
He reached into his back pocket for his phone and remembered that he’d stuck it in his jacket instead when his fingers met paper instead of the plastic case of his iPhone. He pulled out the paper. When he’d left the house, he’d picked it up without even thinking—the advertisement for the circus.
Massi. I love you, Stinker! Please be okay.
“Please.” He said the word aloud, startling one of the pigeons, which seemed to stare back at him reprovingly before flying away.
He sat down on a bench, texted Antonio, then stared at the flyer with the elephants and clowns. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. His shoulders felt like they were made of iron and his neck ached.
“Why are clowns so happy?” Massi had asked one night after Cary had read a book about a stuffed clown toy that’d come to life. They’d laughed and made up stories for the book, which had only illustrations and no words. Massi had told Antonio the next day that he didn’t want to be a lawyer or a musician. He was going to be a clown. The memory made Cary smile.
And then it hit Cary like one of the elephants on the cover of the advertisement. Massimo wanted to be a clown. Sure, it had been two years ago, but the colorful photo of the clowns and elephants had been sitting on the table in the living room for three days now. Plenty of time for Massimo to have noticed.