Lost and Wanted(19)

“I’ve been thinking of you, and Dr. Boyce.” It was awkward, even apart from the odd formality of “Dr. Boyce,” but that was the way I’d referred to him when Charlie and I were students. Addie glossed over this gracefully.

“Carl and I were so glad you agreed to speak. We realize that her friends are mostly in Los Angeles now.” Addie looked down at Jack. “And who is this? He’s just a couple of years younger than Simona, I think?”

    “Jack.” I nudged him, and he said hello very quietly, forgetting to extend his hand. He was wearing a navy-and-white checked shirt with a collar, which seemed to emphasize the narrowness of his frame. His hair hadn’t been cut for a while, and was starting to curl at the ends.

“A little more than a year,” I said.

Addie nodded. “Simona’s tall for her age.” She put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “She’s inside with some other children. She’ll be so happy you’re here.”

Carl finished speaking to another guest, and then turned to us, squatting down first to talk to Jack. He’d gained weight since I’d seen him last, and he wore his mustache and beard neatly trimmed; his head had been bald and shiny as long as I’d known him.

“Hi there,” he said. “You must be Jack.” Even in the midst of his grief, it had occurred to Carl that my son—whom he’d never met—might be uncomfortable or frightened at a gathering like this, and he took steps to remedy that, bringing the conversation immediately to his level. “I bet you’ve been to Harvard lots of times.”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “For the bouncy house.”

“That’s what he remembers from Reunion a few years ago,” I explained. “They had one for the kids.”

“I never understand why they don’t get one for the grown-ups,” Carl said, making Jack giggle. “Lord knows we need it.” Then he straightened up and gave me a forceful hug. “Thank you for being here.”

I started to protest—of course I was here, but Carl continued:

“And thank you for speaking.”

“I wasn’t sure what would be right to say.”

Carl shook his head, dismissing that worry. “There’s nothing to say,” he said. “It’s just about being here, being together.” There was another couple Carl and Addie’s age waiting next to me, and Charlie’s brother, William, was surrounded, so Jack and I proceeded with the other guests into the church. Awed by the white columns and the red carpet, the sudden shift from bright to dim, Jack took my hand. Long windows glowed on either side of the nave, but the light didn’t penetrate very far into the interior. There was low conversation everywhere, and then children’s laughter. Several of them ran out of a side chapel and down the aisle, chasing each other. I recognized Simmi in a navy dress with white polka dots, and then Terrence stopped her gently, putting an arm around her shoulder. It had taken me a moment to recognize him because his hair was shaved close to his skull; either he’d started losing his hair in the seven years since I’d seen him, like his father-in-law, or he’d purposely cut off the dreadlocks. He looked like a different person in the conservative dark gray suit, guiding his daughter down the side aisle toward one of the forward pews.

    “There’s Simmi,” I said to Jack.

“The laughing one?”

“She’s with her dad now.”

“She shouldn’t be so happy.”

I don’t shush Jack often, but I did then. The raw heartlessness of children continues to surprise me. Much is made of their sensitivity and purity—and those things are true of Jack—but I’ve been fascinated to observe that we aren’t born with empathy, that our own needs and wants radically trump those of all others, at least until we learn to feel otherwise.

I thought it would be better to find Terrence after the service, or maybe I was only postponing it. As Jack and I were making our way down the aisle on the other side of the church, I heard my name; when I turned around, I saw Charlie’s college boyfriend, Kwesi, standing next to his English wife, Alison, whose name I remembered because Charlie had called me in tears when they got married.

Kwesi and I hugged each other.

“You’re in London now?”

Kwesi nodded. He was wearing a beautiful brown suit, and his hooded eyes were the same under the same round, wire-rimmed glasses. Even in school Kwesi had been a calming presence—someone you might seek out when you missed the company of adults. Of course there had been adults at Harvard when we were undergraduates, but they had remained mostly in their offices and lecture halls. In our residential houses, we had advisors, but all I remembered of them was that they’d periodically hosted afternoon tea. It wasn’t a place for people who believed they needed guidance or mentoring outside the academic realm.

    Kwesi told me the ages of his children, young teenagers, and I introduced Jack, who this time held out his hand to both Kwesi and Alison. I was proud of him.

“I saw that you’re going to speak,” Kwesi said.

“Yes.”

I was worried that he was going to say something that began, She was so…something that would sum Charlie up, turn her into a character. I felt like that would be even worse in front of this strange woman, his wife. But Kwesi didn’t do anything like that.