The Christmas Orphans Club(70)

The rest of us don’t wait to be told what he needs and spring into action. I feel desperate to do something, anything to take his pain away, but I don’t know how, so I settle for getting him a glass of water while Priya conscripts a box of tissues from the check-in desk.

“There’s a five o’clock flight out of JFK,” Theo says as he scrolls through flights on his phone. “And a six p.m. out of LaGuardia.”

“Wait a second,” I interrupt. Four sets of eyes swivel toward me, even Finn’s. “Do you actually want to go?” This is directed at Finn, the first words I’ve spoken to him in a year. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“I don’t know,” he answers. His eyes dart around the circle like one of us might have the answer. “I probably should, right?”

“Fuck ‘should.’?” I sit down on the couch next to him and press my shoulder into his. “I asked, do you want to? Because you don’t have to.”

Finn takes a beat to deliberate. My heart breaks as I watch him. What an impossible position his father has put him in. If he wasn’t dead, I’d leave him a scathing voicemail right now. How dare he leave his son—his wonderful, warm, caring son—to be the bigger person. How dare he leave this world without making things right with him.

“I think I want to go,” Finn says. “Or, I don’t want to go so much as I’m afraid that, if I don’t, I’ll regret it.”

“So it’s a yes, then?” Theo asks. He has his credit card out, poised to enter it into whatever travel app he’s using. He looks at me for approval.

Finn nods at me.

“It’s a yes,” I confirm with the gravitas of a five-star general choreographing a military operation.

“Four seats or five?” Theo asks. “Jeremy, are you coming?”

Jeremy looks up from where he’s squatting in front of Finn. He looks like a deer caught in headlights. “Me? I can’t . . . ,” he says to Theo instead of Finn, like he knows enough to be embarrassed by his refusal.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Jeremy?” I snap.

“I have to work tomorrow. I need to feed my sea anemones or else I’ll have to start my experiment all over again.” This is undoubtedly the lamest excuse of all time.



* * *



? ? ?

?Theo, Priya, and I are all in middle seats on the six o’clock flight out of LaGuardia. When the airline upgraded Theo to first class on account of his frequent-flier status, he insisted Finn take his seat.

Before the flight, Theo and Priya ran home to pack a bag, while I went with Finn to his apartment to help him pack. I didn’t notice Jeremy had slinked away until the taxi pulled away from the curb at the escape room and it was only the two of us in the back seat, Finn clutching my hand in a vise grip on the cracked vinyl bench between us. I considered telling the driver to stop so I could go back and yell at Jeremy for his cowardice, but it’s probably better this way, just the four of us.

At his apartment, Finn sat on the couch catatonic, while I threw open drawers and closets and cabinets doing my best to round up everything he might need for the next few days. Boxer briefs, razor, toothbrush, pajamas. I threw in a worn copy of The Magicians from his bookshelf in case he couldn’t sleep on the plane. I know it’s his favorite and figured he could use some comfort right now.

“Do you have a garment bag for your suit?” I asked him.

He shook his head. Tears began to well in his eyes again, threatening to spill over.

“No problem, I’ve got this,” I reassured him.

An hour later, I stood in the boarding line with Finn’s suit wrapped in an upside-down garbage bag as my carry-on. When the man in front of us side-eyed my choice of luggage, I stared back with open disgust until he looked away first. Today was not the day to cross me.

As soon as the seat-belt sign turns off, Finn shuffles to the back of the plane and taps the man next to Theo on the shoulder. I can’t hear what he says from my seat in the last row, but watch Finn point to his seat at the front of the plane. The older man gathers his belongings in a rush before Finn can take back his offer.

When I use the bathroom mid-flight—walking to the one in the center of the cabin instead of the one beside my seat—I’m relieved to find Finn sleeping with his head on Theo’s shoulder. Theo gives me a sad smile as I walk by his row. I’m glad Finn’s not alone.



* * *



? ? ?

?In Atlanta, there’s a handwritten sign on the desk of the Alamo counter. The message, written with a Sharpie in blocky capital letters, says: merry christmas. we’re out of cars. god bless. We make our way down the row of abandoned rental car counters until we find the lone open kiosk. “It’s your lucky day,” the woman behind the counter tells us in a syrupy southern accent, “we have one car left.”

She may have oversold our luck, because the last car turns out to be a bright yellow Hummer. In the parking lot, we stand a few yards away from the car, giving it a wide berth, like it might turn sentient and take offense if it hears us talking shit.

“Who’s driving?” Theo asks.

“Aren’t you driving?” I ask Theo. He paid for the rental and put his name on the insurance form.

“I’m not used to driving on the right side of the road. Even in, erm, more modestly sized vehicles. I’m afraid I’d run us off the road,” he says as he eyes our monstrosity of a ride.