If I Forget You(38)

Henry takes the man’s hand and looks quickly to his parents and then back up to the man. He is easily six foot five and broad.

Henry is about to speak when it is as if Kiernan anticipates what he is about to say and says, “I work for Mr. Thomas Fuller and I am here on his behalf.”

“What do you want?” Henry says.

“Sit down, please,” Kiernan says.

Henry looks toward his father, that impassive and unknowing face, and then to his mother, who of course tells him what he needs to do with a nod and with the stern look in her black eyes. She says, “Sit down, Henry.”

Henry sits in the closest chair, and next to him Kiernan eases himself into a matching chair, a chair too small for his folded body, like a parent visiting an elementary school classroom.

“Henry,” Kiernan says, “I’ve had a chance to talk with your parents. But you need to hear what I am going to say. It’s important. Do you understand? Are you listening?”

Henry shrugs. “I’m listening,” he says.

“These are the facts, okay? You assaulted a man and broke his jaw. No one disputes that. The fact that he is a very important man does not matter in terms of what the court will do, except that perhaps we could be helpful to you. From talking to the prosecutor, I would say you could be looking at a year in prison. Prison, Henry, understand?”

Henry nods as his mother gasps loudly, and he can hear her start to cry, but he cannot look at her. Instead, he looks only at Kiernan, who has gray eyes, and his head is so large that when he looks at Henry, it unnerves him, and while he is hearing him, he also desperately wants him to go, or to have this conversation somewhere where his parents cannot hear it.

“I have also talked to President Matthews at Bannister. They are prepared to move forward with an expulsion hearing for violating the code of conduct, which applies equally to off-campus activities. So right now you are looking at being kicked out of Bannister and a year in prison.”

Kiernan pauses as if to let this news settle in. His mother is crying harder now, and Henry finally looks over to her and says, “It’s going to be okay, Mom. Really.”

“Well, it could be,” says Kiernan. “Mr. Fuller is very forgiving man. And so against my advice, he has asked me to come here today to give you an opportunity to get your life back on track.”

“Why?” Henry asks.

“I’ll get to that in a minute. The prosecutor, at Mr. Fuller’s recommendation, is prepared to give you probation without any time, provided you agree to the following. First, you will not return to Bannister, but you will be allowed to graduate. President Matthews says you have met all your distribution requirements, so the work left is all in your major, creative writing. Professor Deborah Weinberg has agreed to advise you in the production of a thesis that will be a substitute for normal coursework. You can do the work from here or anywhere else, but you will not be allowed back on the Bannister campus for a period of five years. If you successfully complete the thesis, your transcript will not reflect any detriment to you.”

Henry takes this in. He looks around the kitchen and then out the small window that stares at the identical house next door, and for a moment, incongruently, he thinks about this, houses next to houses, all of them the same other than their colors, many of which were once garish but now are dulled by time, like so many things.

“What’s the catch?” Henry’s father says from across the table, shaking Henry back to what is in front of him. “There’s always a catch.”

“Just an agreement,” Kiernan says. “Henry will agree not to contact Margot Fuller ever again. And Henry will write her a letter now, to be approved by me and mailed by me, that will explain to her that he is not interested in seeing her again and this is of his free will. He will tell her he has left Bannister College. And should he try to contact her in any manner in violation of this, or inform her in any way of this agreement, it all goes away. He will be expelled from Bannister. He will be tried and convicted. A stain he will carry for the rest of his life. And given the gravity of what has happened, he will go to prison. Is this clear?”

Henry stands up quickly, the metal legs of the chair scraping against the floor. He pushes his hands through his hair. His mother, ever the survivor, is saying something to Kiernan. Henry is not listening to her, though he knows she is expressing some measure of gratitude, for his mother always sees the horizon. It is what got her here and what has kept her here.

Henry opens the screen door and moves out into the warmth of the stale summer afternoon.





Margot, 1991

All the simple things about summer that used to please her don’t matter anymore. Things she used to love, like the washing of sticky sand off her feet in the surf and the feeling of putting a clean white shirt on after a day on the white-hot beach, the way it tingles against her tanned skin, are suddenly irritants. She doesn’t want to see anyone. And the sight of her father sitting all day on the deck, hat over his eyes, with his big glass and the straw, the visible wires holding his face together, his sustenance reduced to this, reminds her of the moment love crashed into the sun.

Otherwise, it is like this thing never happened. They have one conversation about it when her father returns, and Margot bites her tongue, for she wants to tell him what she has realized, that Henry did what he did only to protect her, and wouldn’t they want her involved with a man like that?