Between Here and the Horizon(78)

“That’s all right, buddy. It’s totally okay if you change your mind.”

I could imagine it all too well: Sully showing up and not knowing what to say or how to act. Connor feeling uncomfortable and running for his bedroom. Odds were that was exactly what was going to happen, but it was better than the alternative. It was better than Connor never meeting Sully, and it was better than Sully always wondering.

There was only one way to find out.





******





“Are you ready?”

“Not really. This is more intimidating than going before a military court.”

“You went before a military court?”

“No. Kind of. Not really. Are you sure they’re not going to flip out?” Sully clearly didn’t want to talk about the military court comment, however I was all too interested. Another time, though. I rubbed my hand across his chest, trying to reassure him.

“They might at first. But it’ll be fine, I promise. They’re good kids. You might just need to give them a moment to adjust is all.”

“I’m the one who needs time to adjust,” he said. “What if they call me Dad by mistake? I’ll lose my f*cking shit, Lang. I’m not joking.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll remind them your name is Uncle Sully, and you’ll cut them some slack. This is just as hard for them as it is for you. Harder. You knew they existed, after all. You’re completely out of the blue to them.”

He looked unconvinced. I’d been so sure he was going to call and bail this morning, but when he’d actually shown up at ten o’clock sharp, wearing a smart, ironed shirt and a pair of clean black jeans I’d had to give him credit: he was a man of his word. A terrified man of his word, admittedly, but still.

“Come on,” I told him. “They’re waiting for you.” Leading him through to the kitchen, both Connor and Amie were sitting at the table, gluing down pictures I’d been cutting out of magazines for them all day onto huge pieces of craft paper. Amie was covered in glitter, her fingers absolutely plastered with glue to the point where she couldn’t spread them apart anymore. Connor had small, white fragments of paper down the front of his shirt and in his hair, which was curling like crazy all over the place.

When Sully and I walked into the room, the children fell silent, and Sully froze—a rabbit trapped in the headlights. The three of them looked at one another, staring and I began to wonder if this wasn’t just a huge mistake. Connor was the first to look away. Slowly, he picked up a cut-out picture of a soccer player and began to rub his glue stick over the back of it; the tips of his ears were practically glowing, but his cheeks were pale, pale, white, like he was in shock.

“Whoa,” Amie breathed. She looked at me, sweet little face full of confusion, as if checking in with me—is this really happening? “You look just like my daddy,” she whispered. I’d warned them both that Sully was more than just a little bit like Ronan, that he was exactly like Ronan, but Amie couldn’t be blamed for being surprised now. The resemblance was unnatural.

Sully shifted from one foot to another, clearing his throat. I’d never seen him so out of sorts. “Yeah, well. People say that a lot,” he replied. “It must be weird for you, huh?”

Amie nodded gravely. “It’s really weird.”

“I get that. I’m sorry…I haven’t come to see you before.”

Amie nodded. “Feelya said you were sad, so it’s okay. Are you still sad now?”

“I think I might be a little bit,” he said. “But I’m getting better.”

Was he telling the truth? Was he getting better? Did he hate Ronan a little less every day, and miss him a little bit more? It was so hard to tell with him. As soon as anyone mentioned Ronan’s name, it was as though a heavy, metal roller shutter was slamming down in front of him. He didn’t want to talk about him. He didn’t want to reminisce. As far as I could tell, he didn’t even want to think about the fact that he had a twin a lot of the time, which made it difficult to talk freely about the situation we were in now. Sully glanced around the kitchen awkwardly. I could tell that he didn’t really know what to do with himself, which made me unreasonably proud. This was such a huge step for him.

He paced slowly toward the table and stopped in front of Connor. “What are you making, man?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Connor replied. “A picture of under the sea?”

Sully tipped his head to the side, trying to take a better look. Connor leaned over his picture, hiding it from view, though. “Hey, that’s okay. Artists don’t like sharing their work until they’re finished, right? I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Connor glanced quickly up at him and shrugged. “I’m not an artist. I’m just a kid.”

“Well, you’re way better at art than I am, either way.” Sully shot me an anxious sideways look. He clearly thought he was drowning, making zero headway with the little boy; he didn’t realize just how amazing it was that Connor was interacting with him at all, though.

“Are you staying here for lunch with us?” Amie asked, clambering up so that she was standing on the seat of her chair, glue spatula in one hand and a dog-eared picture of Victoria Beckham in the other.