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Henry loves his life. Really, all things considered, it could be far far worse. He loves the family that he’s worked so hard to build and fought to keep despite all the things—all the trauma—that worked against him in his life. Henry loves his friends that live close enough that he can see them frequently—June and Nora and Pez. Bea who still lives in England but makes frequent trips to see them anyway. And he loves his daughter and his husband with his whole entire heart. There is nothing he would change.
But if you ask him on a hard day, when he’s reflecting a little too much, maybe he’ll be a little more honest about it all. Because Henry loves Alex’s—and now his too—family, they’re so supportive, and Ellen and Oscar and Leo accepted Henry into said family, without question, the day they met him, and that’s great. Henry just wishes his family had been the same is all.
He doesn’t think about them often—Philip and his mum and his gran—usually they only come to mind after he’s had a few glasses of wine or on holidays, sometimes on his birthday, and always on his dad’s death anniversary. It was quite difficult going no contact, especially with his mum, and it’s been years since he has.But it still aches like pressing on a bruise every time he thinks about it all.
Alex is great, beyond great really. He’s always there to hold Henry when he thinks too hard and to offer words of encouragement when he can tell Henry’s getting too lost in the memories. He knows how far he can push Henry, when to stop asking questions about it, and Henry has never been more grateful to be with someone who loves him and understands him this much. It’s a blessing, no matter what the rest of his family think of it.
It also helps that Juliana has never brought them up before, but Henry always kind of wonders if she will one day. Alex’s parents are so good to her, they helped Henry and Alex out so much in the beginning while they were learning to balance parenthood and their careers. Even when they were still living in New York, his parents were just a phone call away, always willing to talk them through something—like what to do when Jules was running a fever as an infant. They were good about planning a last minute trip to stay for a bit at the brownstone too. Henry thinks it probably had something to do with feeling like they dropped the ball during Alex’s childhood, and they were trying to make up for it, but Henry was grateful nonetheless. Now that they’re in Texas, it’s much easier to see them and have them over.
And then it happens, a random Thursday afternoon. It’s getting close to Halloween, and Henry has been busy planning a party for the shelter kids, standing at their kitchen counter as he goes over the agenda draft he and Pez have been working on for weeks. He leans over when she walks into the kitchen, dropping her backpack on the floor, and she gives him a kiss on the cheek before walking over to the fridge to get something to eat. It’s a normal routine, and that’s why her question catches him so off guard.
“Dad,” she starts as she sits at the kitchen table to eat her snack, and he hums to let her know he’s listening. “Why haven’t I ever met more of your family? Not that Aunt Bea and Auntie Pez aren’t cool, I just…I feel like there’s more, you know?”
Henry’s head snaps up, and he stares at her, wide eyed. He wishes Alex were home to help him answer because he’s afraid his daughter is far too smart and perceptive to buy anything but the truth. Licking his lips, Henry shrugs and hopes it looks casual and not devastated like he feels. “Um, they just live so far away, you know?” It’s true, and it’s the excuse he and Alex had come up with when they discussed having to tell her one day.
“Yeah, but, they’ve never even called or come down for Christmas or anything. Are they…” she trails off and looks at him, eyes full of concern. “Are they dead?” As horrible as it is, at that moment, Henry really wants to say yes. But he doesn’t want to lie to his daughter either. Though, technically, Arthur is dead, and so is his gran. She rambles on before he can say anything, “My teacher is making us do an assignment on our family history, and after I turned in my outline, he asked why your side was so small and vague. And I told him that was not really his business, but it made me curious, you know?”
Henry sets the papers he’s been poring over for half an hour down on the counter and walks around to sit at the table across from her. Although he definitely doesn’t owe her nosy teacher an answer, Henry does feel like Jules deserves one. She flips her hand resting on the table over, offering it, and Henry takes it, linking their fingers together. He squeezes once, gathering his jumbled thoughts as quickly as he can, and says, “Some of them are still alive, you’re right to assume there’s more than just Aunt Bea and Auntie Pez. It’s just–” Henry cuts off, rubbing his free hand over his mouth. “Perhaps the best way to put it is that it’s rather complicated, my dear.”
“How is it complicated?” Jules asks, she tilts her head that same way Alex does, and it makes Henry’s chest ache. But her next question is far worse, “Do they not want to meet me or something?”
Henry has been angry at his estranged family for many reasons. His mum for disappearing on him, never returning when the whole family needed her after Arthur’s death. She kept herself busy, but clearly her grieving children weren’t enough priority for her as she traveled the world. Bea says she was buried in her own grief, but Henry didn’t give a shit anymore. His gran for her bigotry and intolerance toward anything she deemed “socially acceptable.”
He’s angry at Philip for blindly following their gran—casting Henry aside like it was nothing—and for the way he treated Alex with her encouragement. They’ve said some nasty things about Henry too, and it took some time and some therapy for him to truly be angry about that, but he’s never been angrier at them all than he is right then, as he’s staring into his daughter’s sad eyes. He’s never hated them more than for the fact that they’ve made his baby feel unwanted and not good enough.
“No, christ, darling, no, that’s not it at all. They’d love you, I know they would.” That’s probably true, she’s so kind and wonderful, they’d love her—Henry knows from Bea that Philip has a daughter of his own these days. He’d reached out to both Philip and his mum when his gran died, hoping to possibly mend fences, and received nothing in return. So instead of getting to know Jules, catching up on his life, they chose not to know her, and that’s on them, not him and not her. “It’s just a long story, and I’ll tell you someday, okay? But maybe not today. I need you to get your homework done by the time your Papa comes home so we can watch our movie tonight.”
“But why can’t you tell me today? Make it short instead of long.” She looks less sad now, back to curious, and it makes his chest hurt. He doesn’t want to talk about it frankly, and Henry has done plenty of unpacking in his own time and with his therapist to get through the whole situation. His feelings about the subject—as jumbled and complicated as they are—aren’t really something he wants to share with her. She doesn’t need to see that.
Despite his best effort to keep them at bay, tears prick his eyes, stupid tears, and they burn. He hopes Jules doesn’t notice, but when she squeezes his hand she’s still holding, he knows she does. Fuck. Henry runs a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead before dropping the hand a bit to wipe his eyes. It’s probably not as discreet as he’d have liked it to be.
“Erm,” his voice shakes, and he blinks even harder. He’s just wiped away tears, and there are already more in their place. “It’s, um, you know I moved here for university, or, well, New York. You remember New York?” He’s stalling. She nods, and doesn"t interrupt. “Well, that’s how I met your papa.” He clears his throat, it feels thick with tears. “Well, my gran made it very clear before I left that me liking boys was…unacceptable in her eyes. That I was to finish school and return home to marry a woman of her choosing from a good family—beneficial to the family business.”
There’s a horrified look on Jules’ face as she takes in his explanation. She stands from her chair, not dropping his hand for a second, and circles around the table to stand next to him. “Dad, that’s–” Jules bites her lip, eyes flitting up to the ceiling. Henry gets it, finding the right words to describe the whole thing is difficult.
Henry shakes his head and sniffs, pulling himself a bit more together now that he’s gotten most of the worst part out of the way. “They…well, they didn’t like it when they found out about Alex, I suppose.” And isn’t that the understatement of the century.
“They?” Jules’ eyebrows are furrowed, confusion clouding her eyes.
Right. He hadn’t mentioned Philip yet. “Right, they. My gran and my older brother, Philip.” Her eyes widen dramatically because this is absolutely the first time she’s heard anything about a sibling other than Bea. It’s a little funny, she looks so much like Alex. “And, Gran and Pip–” Henry cuts off and shakes his head, correcting himself. “Philip said if I was going to be with a boy, then I wasn’t welcome home anymore.”
The world can be a horrible place full of horrible people, and he’d have liked it if he could spare his daughter that knowledge for a bit longer. As much as she thinks she’s grown up, nine is still rather young. Instead he’s here, confessing to her that some of the people closest to him were that horrible, and it sucks.
“But,” she pauses, eyebrows furrowed like she’s trying to work something out. The fingers of her free hand tap against her thigh as she thinks. “But you’re still part of the family, right? What about your mom and dad, it doesn’t work like that, does it?”
“Yes,” Henry agrees. “I’m still part of the family, but they don’t want to see me. And I’m so sorry, but, I’m afraid it means they don’t want to see you either.” He snorts, running a hand through his hair. “Well, technically it’s just Philip now, Gran is dead.”
There’s a fierce look on Jules’ face as she takes in that news. “Good.”
“As for my parents, my father is also dead. He passed away when I was a teenager.” Henry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it for a few seconds before letting it go with a quiet pop. “My mum disappeared with him. I haven’t really spoken to her in years, she was always a little less involved with our lives anyway.”
“That still sucks,” Jules says, so matter of fact.
Henry nods with a soft sight. “It does. And this whole thing—it is their loss, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you’re missing out on anything, and I am truly so sorry that these are the cards you’ve been dealt. If I could change it, I would.” He holds his hands out with a sad smile. “But I can’t.”
“It’s okay, Dad.” Her eyes narrow a bit. “We get a bad deal sometimes, right?” Card games are a popular game night choice in their house—especially when June, Pez, Nora, and Bea are all in town. Jules is picking up on the terminology better than he’d realized apparently. “It’s their loss, right? Like you said,” Jules finishes.
He holds his arm out, and he’s almost worried she won’t take the hug, but after a few seconds, she drops his hand and walks into it. Her arms squeeze tight around his shoulders, and he so desperately wishes things were different, not just for himself, but for her. She deserves two sets of grandparents who love her, not just one. And an uncle that doesn’t ignore her existence just because of who her parents are.
Henry kisses the top of her head and sways them back and forth. He’ll have to tell Alex about what happened, maybe even send him a text to let him know what all the conversation entailed before he gets home from work. But for now, he’s content to hold her close for as long as she’ll let him.
It’s stupid, Henry isn’t even sure why he does it. Maybe it’s because his estranged family members have been on his mind more since Jules asked him about them, maybe it’s because he and Alex have talked about them more than once since then. Or perhaps it’s because Jules asked him to look over her paper before she turned it in to make sure he was okay with what she’d written. There have been more hard days than usual with all the holidays they have to get through soon.
He’s sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through pictures of his Philip’s kids at Halloween when he sees one of them with their mum. Henry hasn’t heard from her, and he’s pretty sure Bea hasn’t either. Bile rises in his throat staring at the smile on her face as she holds Philip’s toddler. He might be fucking sick right there on the table.
It’s always a punch to the gut when he’s reminded that she’s chosen a favorite out of all of her children. He’s not sure he could really fathom having a relationship with the one child who managed to drive the other two away, but whatever. As long as Henry doesn’t think about it too hard, he can be mostly okay with not having her around. Especially since Bea is right there with him.
But staring at that picture, it just seems so unfair. Philip’s kids get to have a grandparent from his side, and Henry’s daughter doesn’t. Maybe things with his mum are different now, Henry thinks to himself. She’s had far more time to heal—it’s been so long since his father died. He wonders if she even cares that she doesn’t see him or Bea and if she even still thinks about them. Something deep down in him wonders if she is waiting on him to reach out. A second time. It would be so silly of him to reach out…but he rather wants to.
Henry has been staring at his screen so long it goes dark, and his phone locks. He taps his fingernail against the screen and bites his bottom lip while he thinks about it. Reaching out can’t hurt that much. Realistically, what’s the worst that could happen? They already don’t talk to him, so they just ignore him again? Sure, it would hurt, but it wouldn’t be that different.
Maybe he shouldn’t though, and honestly, he doesn’t know how to reach out anyway. How would he even start that conversation? Hey guys, remember me, the middle child, your other son and only brother? Do you ever think about me or am I also dead to you? Nothing he comes up with feels natural, and that feels like a good enough sign for him to let it be.
Then his eyes fall on the stack of Christmas cards on the counter. Alex insists on them sending one out—mostly for his family in Mexico that they don’t see nearly as often—and they’ve gotten pictures taken every year with Juliana to make them. It’s cute, as much as Henry pretends it annoys him sometimes, he likes having something to show their growth over time. It’s the only time they ever have pictures made, so he won’t give it up even if Alex asks if he wants to one day.
They always get a few extra cards made just in case there’s someone new Alex decides he wants to send one to. Maybe he could send one of those. That way he doesn’t have to write a note, it could just be a reminder that there’s a whole life they’re missing out on, and he’d be open to letting them into it. Not super personalized, but at the same time, it’s personal enough for the amount of distance between them these days.
Before he has time to regret it, Henry crosses the kitchen and picks one of the cards off the counter. It has three pictures of them and Happy Holidays from our family to yours across the front in a font Alex picked out. He’d agonized over the bloody font too, going back and forth for days, and looking at it always makes Henry smile—remembering when Alex finally decided, slamming the final choice on the counter with a dramatic flourish of his other hand. But this time, as Henry traces his finger over the words, it’s harder to smile.
He stuffs it in an envelope and grabs a pen out of the drawer. From what he can tell through Philip’s pictures, his mum still lives in the same house they did when they were all children. That kind of makes him feel sick, although he’s not sure what he’d do if they sold the house he remembers his father in best. He wonders how she can live with it though—only one child left when there used to be three.
Henry’s hand shakes a little as he writes the address. As hard as he tried to push the whole family situation behind him, he’ll never be able to forget that address. Though he does always choose to forgo that prompt when he needs security questions for something. Henry took Alex’s surname and kept Fox when they got married—it was an absurdly easy decision to drop the Mountchristen-Windsor portion.
His hand shakes even harder as he slowly writes out the letters of the new name behind Henry. There’s no need to put Alex’s name or his daughter’s, no need to bring them into it if nothing comes of it. But the new surname will serve as a reminder that they’re truly not part of his life anymore.
No one is home except him and David—Alex took Jules to soccer practice, and Henry is supposed to be making dinner. He’s made no progress, done nothing besides scroll through pictures and now this. His stomach turns, and Henry isn’t even sure he’ll be able to stomach cooking, but he shoves the feeling aside, and walks the card out to the mailbox.
The flag is supposed to go up when he puts something in the mailbox to send, and Henry knows that, but he decides to do it in the morning. No need for Alex to see it and ask because it’s possible nothing will come of it. If he gets a reply, whether it’s an apology or a bugger off, that’s when he’ll tell Alex. For now, it’ll be his secret to hold onto. He pats his chest, like he’s physically keeping it there, and Henry hopes to god it doesn’t nick his heart in the meantime.
He doesn’t hear a peep, and honestly, that’s probably for the best. Months go by, and Henry completely forgets about the whole thing. For a few weeks, he wonders if the card got there or if they’d just thrown it in the trash as soon as they saw his name. Maybe it’s best that he never knows the answer to that question. And once all the holidays are gone, he lets go. Holidays are always hard.
It’s not until March, when he gets the mail on his way in from grocery shopping that he thinks about it again. There’s only one thing in the mailbox that isn’t junk mail, and it’s addressed to him in his mum’s familiar handwriting. God he’ll never forget what it looks like, and he hates that fact. He hates that she’s chosen to do this so close to his birthday too, but that’s something entirely different to unpack.
His fingers itch to tear it open, but he makes himself wait until he at least gets into the house. Maybe he should even wait until Alex gets home, so that he can explain it all then and if the letter is bad, he’ll immediately get a hug. But Alex won’t be home for hours, even Jules is going to beat his husband home when she gets off the bus from school, and he can’t sit with it for that long. He’ll lose his mind entirely before then.
So Henry decides to unload the groceries. He puts away the perishables and organizes the pantry and tucks all the bags away robotically, barely focusing as his head spins at what feels like a hundred kilometers an hour. All he can see is his name with his new surname in his mother’s loopy handwriting, something he hasn’t dreamt of seeing in years. Henry Fox-Claremont-Diaz.
It’s way too early, nearing 1:00 in the afternoon, but Henry pours himself a glass of red wine anyway. He leans against the counter, his elbows on either side of the envelope, and stares at it. Not like he has anything else to do anyway. Well, he could vacuum, he’d been meaning to do that, and there’s probably something he could do for the shelter—stopping in might be a worthy time waster. But Henry knows he won’t be able to think about anything other than what’s inside this bloody envelope until he opens it.
When he finishes the glass, admittedly pretty quickly, Henry refills it and with the hand not holding the full glass, picks up the envelope. If he stares at it any longer, it’ll probably burst into flames, so Henry decides to just fucking open it.
Henry,
It was so good to hear from you. Your brother and I have been talking a lot lately about trying to reach out to you, so it was like fate when your Christmas card arrived in the mail. We’re flying to America soon, a little trip for Philip’s son’s birthday, and we’d love the chance to visit with you and meet your beautiful daughter. I can’t believe it’s already been 9 years, and there’s a lot of catching up to do. Please, give me a call when you get this, the number is the same.
With love,
Mum
Henry immediately bursts into tears. It’s– it’s what he wanted, he thinks, confirmation that they’ve changed and that there’s room there for growth. But it’s not exactly confirmation, it’s just a card. Seeing someone in person and patching a shattered relationship over paper or through a screen are two entirely different things. Now he’ll definitely have to tell Alex. But perhaps he should call first, get some more details before filling his husband in.
Much like the address and the handwriting, Henry hasn’t forgotten his mum’s phone number. He spins his phone on the countertop a few times before plucking up the courage and typing it in. The phone is kind of new, only a few years old, and he hadn’t synced his contacts from his old phone, mostly so his mum and Philip’s numbers wouldn’t save. A contact name doesn’t pop up as he hits the call button, but it’s still hard looking at the number.
“Hello?” His mum’s voice. The sound of it makes him dizzy, and he takes his wine glass into the living room, over to the recliner to sit for the conversation. David curls up at his feet, and Henry takes a deep breath. He can do this.
“Hello.” Henry’s voice cracks, and it hasn’t done that since he was a teenager. He clears his throat and tries again, “Erm, hello, Mum.”
“Henry.” And her voice is packed with so much emotion that Henry feels himself choking up again. That needs to stop if nothing else—he needs to be able to have a proper conversation. He takes a long sip of wine, hoping it’ll clear the thickness in his throat as she asks, “Is that really you, Henry?”
“Yeah, Mum, it’s me.”
She sighs, and he can hear her moving around. He can picture it in his head too, a fuzzy picture, but there nonetheless. “How have you been?” She asks, and it takes him a bit by surprise.
Because isn’t that a loaded question. Is she asking about since they last talked—when he told her he was going to America for uni, and she had zero reaction, or more recently? He doesn’t even know if she knows the answer to that herself. She’s probably just asking to be polite, to have something to say to fill the uncomfortable silence.
“I’ve been good, things are really good.” Henry has to bite his lip to hold back the without you sitting right at the tip of his tongue. “How about you?” Since the trip that you went on instead of my graduation. Or the one instead of my wedding. Or the one that coincided with Bea’s sobriety celebration. Henry doesn’t say any of that out loud. A vindictive part of him hopes she’s perceptive enough to hear it anyway.
“I’ve been good too. Really good lately.” That’s shitty to hear—apparently she is not. Henry really shouldn’t have asked.
“Right,” he says, taking another gulp of wine. Henry is almost done with his second glass. “Well, I mostly wanted to ask about your trip. You asked me to call.”
“Oh, yes, we’re planning on flying over the first week of April. Philip wanted to take the kids to Disney World the same way your father and I did with you and Bea and Philip. If you want to get tickets for Juliana, you can join us.” It’s said so casually as if it’s not one of the most devastating things Henry’s ever heard in his life.
Jules won’t be on spring break that week, and Alex can’t just take off of work this late notice. Henry shuts his eyes and rubs his forehead. It’s probably for the best anyway, this conversation is painful enough, a whole trip together might be too much. He’s definitely going to need a third glass of wine. And then lunch so he’s not entirely off his face when Jules gets home.
“I don’t think we can make that work,” Henry tells her. “But if you and Philip want to meet for dinner while you’re in the States, that would be good. I’d have to ask Alex about this, but if you wanted to stay here instead of a hotel while you’re in town, we could make up the guest bedroom.”
“That would be lovely, Henry. Do let me know what he says, I’d love to have dinner.”
When they hang up a few minutes later, Henry hates that he noticed she’d only agreed for herself coming over for dinner—he wonders if she knows why he and Philip don’t speak. He hates that he still cares so much. After a few minutes, Henry drops his phone on the table and pours himself another glass of wine. It’ll be his last, but it is absolutely necessary.
It takes him four whole days to tell Alex. He processes the conversation and his feelings about it first before realizing that the beginning of April is actually fairly soon. Alex gets every other Friday off, and they’re cleaning the kitchen together while Jules is at school when he decides to break the news.
“So, how would you feel about having a guest come and stay with us?”
Alex looks up at him from where he’d been intently staring at the pot he’s scrubbing. “Is Pez coming to town soon? Does he need somewhere to stay?”
“No, darling. I wish.” Henry mumbles the last part, and Alex doesn’t hear him over the water. “Um, it’s my mum. Possibly Philip, though I doubt he’ll stay here.”
Alex drops the pot in shock, and Henry watches as it lands in the soapy water, splashing all over his t-shirt. It should be funny, the screech Alex lets out that has David jumping to his feet with a startled bark, but he doesn’t feel like laughing.
“Are you serious?” Alex asks, wiping his hands on the dish towel Henry passes him.
“Yes, I sent them a card–” Henry starts, taking the towel back to twist around his hands nervously.
“You sent them a card?” Alex interrupts, putting his now dry hands on his hips a little indignantly. His voice is a little raised, but he’s not fully yelling. Yet. “Why the fuck would you send them a card? And better yet, when the hell did you do it?”
Henry’s face is heating up, he knows it’s going red, and he sets the towel on the counter to press his fingertips into his cheeks. They’re warm, and he doesn’t move his fingers before answering, “I sent one of the holiday ones. I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to see if they’d say anything. Or, like, I wanted to…” Henry trails off and huffs frustratedly because even he’s not really sure why he did it. “I wanted to show them what all they’re missing out on.”
Alex crosses his arms over his chest, not flinching at the still wet t-shirt, and stares at Henry. He’s looking for something, Henry isn’t sure what though. It’s a little intimidating, and Henry breaks eye contact, focusing on David who is sensing his distress and ambling over to sit right on top of Henry’s feet.
He must come to some conclusion because he finally says, “I’m not mad, sweetheart.” His voice is a lot softer than it had been mere minutes ago, and Henry looks up at him. He’s crying again, or almost crying at least. He had the day he talked to his mum, and now he might today. Henry is so fucking tired of crying. “I just don’t know why you’d try after all that horrible stuff Philip said, and the way Catherine fucking abandoned you when you needed her.”
“I know, it’s so stupid,” Henry says immediately. He wipes off his cheeks with the back of his hand and sniffles. “Philip was so horrible to you, and you don’t have to go through it. I can go to dinner with them and find them a hotel, and that way they don’t bother you or Jules or anything.”
“Okay well, can we talk about it before you make any more decisions?”
Henry can feel his chin trembling, and he’s desperately trying to hold it together. Perhaps he hasn’t unpacked it as fully as he’d thought. Alex’s face drops in the warm light shining through the kitchen window, and he opens his arms. Henry goes immediately, folding into the hug even though Alex’s shirt is still wet. It sticks a little uncomfortably to him, but when Alex rests his chin on top of Henry’s head and pulls him even closer, Henry can’t find it in himself to care.
Alex always runs warm, it’s why they run the AC almost year round, and it’s why he gives the best hugs out of everyone Henry knows. Henry clings to him and cries into one of the only dry patches on the front of Alex’s shirt, right below his shoulder. But Alex doesn’t seem to care, he’s just humming softly and telling him every so often, “It’s okay, baby.”
It’s not okay, or it maybe it could be one day, Henry isn’t really sure about right now. He kind of wishes he’d told Alex earlier because he already feels so much better about everything, but he knows there’s still quite a few conversations that need to happen before they make any decisions.
“Okay?” Alex asks when Henry finally pulls away and wipes his face on his shirt sleeve. Not really, but he does feel much better, so Henry nods even though it’s not the entire truth.
“I’ll be alright,” he clarifies. That’s the truth.
“Can I see what Catherine sent you?” One of the things Henry has always sort of appreciated is that Alex has always refused to call Catherine his mum. He always said a mom doesn’t act like that.
They sit on the couch, side by side, and Alex reads the letter. He’s a quick reader, but it’s a while before he says anything. If Henry has to guess, he’d say Alex probably reads it quite a few times before speaking up. He wraps an arm around Henry’s shoulder and leans back against the cushions, pulling Henry with him.
They’re both sitting, chins tilted up, staring at the ceiling when he asks, “Do you think Philip is over the whole gay thing?”
Probably not, Henry would put a lot of money on probably not, but he wants so badly to say yes. In the end, he shrugs. “She didn’t say anything on the phone, but surely she knows what’s happened and why. I was left out of Gran’s will for fuck’s sake, surely she’s asked why. I sent Philip’s family a card with our pictures all over it, so if he’s made some comment, surely she must know.”
“Seeing it on a card and seeing it in person are two totally different things.”
“I know,” Henry whispers, shutting his eyes so tightly he can see pricks of light. “But I suppose I’d just like to know for sure.”
“Even if it hurts?” Alex asks, turning his head to look at Henry.
With a sigh, Henry opens his eyes and tilts his own head to face Alex. He smiles sadly. “Even if it hurts.”
Alex doesn’t look thrilled about it, but he lets out a long breath and nods. “Alright.” He looks away to stare up at the ceiling again, and they both stay there on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. The dishes aren’t finished, and there’s definitely more cleaning they need to do too, but for now, Henry is content and comfortable sitting there with Alex.
Henry cleans a lot the few days leading up to his mum coming to stay. She’s not super picky about that kind of stuff from what he remembers, but he’s nervous, and it gives him something to do. Alex and Jules stay mostly out of his way, and the night before they’re supposed to pick his mum and Philip up from the airport, Alex puts her to bed.
He’s walking down the hall with a laundry basket full of clean clothes to fold when he hears his name from her bedroom. Henry pauses, propping the basket on one of his knees, and leans against the wall to listen.
“Why are they coming if they told Dad he’s not part of the family anymore?”
The bed creaks which means Alex probably sat down on the edge of it before answering, “Your dad wants to fix things with them.”
“But why? He’s not the one that broke it.”
Henry shuts his eyes at the question and squeezes the edge of the basket until the plastic is practically cutting painfully into his palm. Alex takes a few seconds to answer, and Henry is curious to see what he says because Henry isn’t sure even he knows the answer.
“Your dad is so kind, even to people who don’t always deserve it. He’s the bravest man I’ve ever known, and he wants the absolute world for you. Part of that, to him, is fixing relationships that you didn’t even get the chance to have because they were broken before your time.”
“So he’s doing it for me?”
Alex laughs, and Henry risks blowing his cover to move enough to peek through the door. Neither Jules nor Alex are facing his direction, and he watches as Alex pulls the blanket up over her lap.
“I think he’s doing it for all of us. For closure.”
She twists the blanket between her fingers, the same little habit Henry has, and asks, “What if they don’t like us?”
That’s the million dollar question. Alex leans down and kisses Jules on the forehead, and when he stands back up to leave the room, he says, “I’m not sure what your dad will do if they don’t like us. But I promise, he won’t let them hurt us.”
“But what if they hurt him?”
Alex’s voice is firm in his answer. “We won’t let them.”
Alex holds his pinky out and she links hers with his. Henry wipes his nose on his shirt as she repeats him, matching tone and all. “We won’t let them.”
Overhearing the conversation helps, but when he gets up the next morning, Henry is still exhausted. He’s not sure how much sleep he got, but it isn’t enough to get through the day. It’s been a while since he’s had to deal with the pesky insomnia that plagued him in his younger years. Maybe if he goes back to bed he can sleep through the whole entire thing and not have to deal with any of it for the rest of his life.
The day drags, and Henry keeps staring at the clock. Morning slowly turns to afternoon, and suddenly it’s time for them to leave to get to the airport. Philip has a car reservation for the day his wife and kids are flying in, a day later than he and their mum are, so Henry offered to pick them up so they don’t have to change the reservation or rent an extra. His mum had accepted the offer for both of them gratefully.
He kind of feels like throwing up the whole drive to the airport, and Henry spends it mostly staring out the window, chewing on his pinky fingernail. It’s a gross habit he mostly kicked in university, but this feels like a situation that could be classed as an exception. To him at least, maybe not to his mum. That thought makes him wipe his hand on his shorts and sit on it instead.
Alex stays by the car, but Jules goes with Henry into the baggage claim area to wait by the escalators. His mum texted that their flight landed, but Henry knows it takes a while to unboard, and they have to go through customs, so they find a bench to sit and wait.
“Dad, is this going to be a good thing?” Jules asks. It’s the first thing either of them have said since stepping foot in the airport.
Henry sighs and puts an arm around her, pulling her close. She lays her head on his shoulder and he shrugs, carefully so he doesn’t knock her head off as he says, “I hope so.”
“What do I even call them?”
That’s a question he hadn’t considered yet himself. “That’s a really good question actually. Are you not feeling the whole Uncle Philip thing?” Jules giggles, and it makes Henry feel infinitely better. She leans further into his side, and Henry finally answers, “I guess we’ll let them decide, how does that sound?”
“Sounds good.” Jules squeezes his hand. “If she’s completely awful, maybe I can call her Gran like you did to your grandmother, and it’ll be like a secret code. Or an inside joke or whatever.”
“I’d like that.” They lapse into silence again, but Henry’s heart feels the lightest it’s felt in over a week.
A big group makes it to the top of the escalators, and Henry stands, pulling her up with him. He’s not sure it’s them, but just in case, he wants to be ready. She grabs his hand with hers again, and Henry squeezes it, whispering, “Here we go. My mum might hug you, so just…be warned.”
He’s glad he gave Jules the warning because his mum does hug her as soon as she introduces herself. Henry kind of wants to laugh at the face Jules makes, a little uncomfortable and equally unsure. She smiles though when his mum can see her face, Alex has taught her very well.
“And Henry, how are you?” His mum hugs him too which is a little out of character. They weren’t really too much of a hugging household, aside from his father at least, so he knows he goes stiff and doesn’t respond quite fast enough by the look on his mum’s face when she pulls away.
“I’m good, Mum. Should we, um, how was your flight? Did you bring luggage or carry-ons or…” He’s completely flustered by the hug, by Philip standing a few steps behind her with an unreadable look on his face. “Alex is by the car if you’re both ready.”
Not his smoothest moment. Jules grabs his hand again and pulls him after his mum and brother as they walk to one of the baggage claim carousels. No one really says anything, but even after all these years with so much lost time to make up, Henry doesn’t know what to say.
“I told Martha the plan,” his mum tells him as they pull the suitcases toward the exit Alex is parked closest to. “She almost changed her and the kids’ tickets to fly with us, but the kids taking such an early flight probably wasn’t the best idea. So I just told her to just come later and that you all could see her sometime on the way back maybe.”
“Maybe.” Henry frowns, he’d only really planned time around this one dinner, nothing for later in the week because Jules is pretty busy on weeknights with soccer. That and their normal family traditions. “We’ll have to see if we can make time.”
“I mean Juliana should meet her cousins,” Philip says, speaking for the first time. Henry actually starts as he turns to look at Philip. Something in his tone makes Henry’s chest hurt.
“She has plenty of cousins here in Texas.” Henry doesn’t know why he’s fighting so hard, he should probably just shut up, but more than he wants to keep the peace, he wants his mum and Philip to know that he doesn’t need them, that his life is full and happy without them in it.
“But it’s not all of her cousins,” his mum interrupts as Philip opens his mouth. Philip frowns but nods in agreement, and Henry sighs. In all the years of no contact, he forgot how terrible conversations with his mum can be.
Henry relents and says, “No, I guess it’s not all of her cousins. If there’s a free night this week, we’d be more than happy to work something out for all of us.”
“I’m sure Martha would love that.”
Things on the way back to their house go surprisingly well. Alex has always been incredibly friendly and can probably have a full conversation with a brick wall if he had to, so that helps a lot. It’s not perfect, but it’s a lot less uncomfortable than Henry expected. Philip even laughs at one of Alex’s dumb jokes.
“You have a lovely home,” his mum says when they step inside.
Alex takes her suitcase, giving Henry a quick kiss on the cheek, and says, “I’ll take this to the guest bedroom if you want to show them around.”
“I have to start on dinner,” Henry says, grabbing onto Alex’s wrist. More than anything, he does not want to be left alone with them. “Why can’t you give the tour?”
“Jules, do you want to give the tour, baby?” Alex asks instead, ever the clever problem solver, and she nods excitedly. They’ve won her over, for the time being at least. She’ll do a good job, and it’ll give Henry time to relax for a second, something he hasn’t fully done once since his mum hugged him.
Alex takes the bag upstairs to the guest bedroom, and Henry goes straight to the kitchen. They’d toyed with the idea of ordering dinner, but Henry ultimately decided he wanted to cook. He’s not sure why, but it feels important, like showing that he can provide just fine for his family or something.
Henry is washing vegetables when Alex finds him and wraps his arm around Henry’s waist. He presses kisses across Henry’s cheek, soft and comforting. His chest vibrates against Henry’s back as he asks, “Doing okay?”
“I think so. It could’ve been worse, right?”
“It definitely could’ve been worse,” Alex agrees. “Philip could’ve called us a slur.”
Henry snorts and drops a pepper on the counter. It’s not that funny, but Henry can’t stop laughing whether it be from nerves or something else.
“Oh god,” he groans, “yeah, he could’ve called us a slur. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.”
“The bad news is I’m running out of small talk. Baby, I only have so much, and your family doesn’t watch American football which is my default.”
Henry hums and leans back into Alex’s chest. “You should’ve studied polo.”
“I love you, but no way in fucking hell am I doing that, baby. I don’t even care how good your legs look in those pants,” Alex disagrees. “I’ll admire from afar and in ignorance.”
“I did try to teach you,” Henry says.
“You did.” It had been one evening when they were in university, when they’d first started dating and Alex was learning the lesser known parts of Henry. None of what Henry explained to him stuck, though he thinks it’s more likely attributed to the amount of tequila in Alex’s system than anything else.
His brother and mum rest for most of the afternoon which is the best case scenario in Henry’s opinion. Hopefully that means everyone will be in a great mood when dinner is finally served, and no fights will start about anything.
They’re having roast chicken and vegetables, and Henry is pulling it out of the oven when his mum walks into the kitchen. She’s been looking around the house for the last 30 minutes even though Jules gave a tour earlier, and it’s putting Henry on edge. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for, so he’s been ignoring it as best he can.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he tells her. “Jules set the table already. Would you like wine or water?”
“Wine sounds great.”
Alex steps into the kitchen just in time to hear her answer, and he walks over to their wine cabinet to pull out one of Henry’s favorites. He points to the glasses and tells Henry’s mum, “Grab some of those, and we can go pour this in the dining room.”
She does, and Henry is alone in the kitchen again. He briefly debates faking some sort of kitchen injury to get out of actually having to sit down for dinner, but he got them all into this, so he needs to deal with it.
It starts well. His mum is very complimentary, shocked he can actually cook because she sure as hell didn’t teach him. He still can’t cook much—this just happens to be one of the few dishes he can. But he won’t tell her that, and he knows Alex and Jules won’t either. They do exchange looks though, and he kicks Alex under the table.
“So,” Philip says when dessert has been passed out. It"s a pie Henry made too because despite his less than adequate cooking skills, he’s quite good at baking. “Juliana, do you see your mum often?”
Henry’s fork clutters onto the table where he’s dropped it in shock at the question. Jules looks absolutely confused as she asks, “My mom?”
“Yes, the lady who gave birth to you.” Philip raises his eyebrows, managing to look incredibly condescending. “Your mum.”
He and Alex hadn’t talked about this particular conversation, frankly because Henry didn’t think either of them would think to ask this sort of question. To him, it seems like a topic that shouldn’t be brought up without full knowledge of the situation.
“My sister was the surrogate for Jules,” Alex answers. He’s gripping his fork tight, Henry can see how white his knuckles are. “But she doesn’t claim Jules as her daughter. Hen and I are Jules’ parents, she doesn’t need a mom.”
“Every child needs a mum,” Philip dismisses. Henry opens his mouth to argue, but Philip isn’t done. “You’re telling me she doesn’t have a woman in her life helping raise her?”
Alex sets his fork down and crosses his arms. “My mom and sister have been very present in Jules’ life, but they are not her parents. Henry and I are her parents, and we’re the ones raising her.”
“And I’m sure you’re doing just fine, but–”
Henry doesn’t let him finish, he cuts her off with a firm head shake, “But nothing. We are Jules’ parents.”
“You’re going to let her grow up without another woman in the house?” Philip continues as if Henry hadn’t even spoken. “You’re not afraid that’s going to mess her up? Growing up with two men in an…untraditional relationship.”
“Pip,” their mum finally says, admonishing. She shakes her head at him, but that’s it. Just his name, nothing else to stand up for Henry and his family.
Henry scoffs, and his words are practically dripping with bitterness. “You’re acting like I grew up with a mum in the house? Mum disappeared just when Dad did, I raised myself.”
“Henry.” Now she’s mad. Now she has something to say. “That’s not fair.”
“Is it not?” He throws his hands in the air. “You were gone for years, you left me to Philip and to Gran and they made my life hell. So no, I’ll say without a doubt that I grew up without a mother.”
Juliana is watching them all argue with a quickly growing frown on her face. Henry is the only one looking at her as the arguing from his mum continues, and when he sees the first tear fall, he stands to his feet, chair flying back with a loud screech across the floor. Everyone falls silent, and Jules finds her words first.
“Y’all are ruining everything.”
And then she’s gone, flying up the stairs to her room. Henry hears the door slam a few seconds later, and his shoulders drop as he slumps back into his chair. Alex is up in an instant, kneeling down next to him with a hand on his knee, “Hey, baby, it’s okay.”
“Christ, this is all my fault.”
“No it’s not, it’s okay.” Alex repeats, voice firm. It’s his no room for argument voice, Henry has been on the receiving end of it plenty of times in all the years he’s known Alex. It’s not good enough this time.
Henry just shakes his head as tears start falling, dripping down his cheeks onto his nose, dripping off the bridge of it. “No, this,” he pauses, motioning toward the stairs, “That is on me.”
He’s pretty sure his mum and Philip are still in the room, but Henry doesn’t care. Whatever apology, if they even want to apologize, won’t be enough. Maybe they don’t want to, maybe they were just there to try and fix his life to their standards. That won’t ever work though—his life is perfectly fine. It was perfectly fine without them, and it’ll be just the same as soon as they get the hell out of his house.
“It’s not on you, sweetheart. That wasn’t your fault.” They hear a loud thump from upstairs and then a scream. Not one of pain, one of anger, and Henry’s heart breaks.
Henry shakes his head again, flinging tears off the tip of his nose and points towards her bedroom, “That’s on me.”
His mum doesn’t stay—she goes with Philip. Alex calls them both an Uber instead of the original plan which was to drive Philip to the hotel he’d booked after dinner. Henry doesn’t bother to move from his chair while they get ready to leave. If they say anything to him on their way out, he doesn’t process it, and it’s only when Alex is back by his side with the door locked that he stands.
Alex packs up all the food and puts it away, Henry helping him robotically. They’re a cook and do the dishes in one night kind of family, but that night Alex lets it slide, and they go to bed instead. Jules doesn’t leave her room once, not even when Henry knocks on the door and tells her that they’re gone. Her nonresponse brings a fresh wave of tears to the surface, and Alex has to guide him all the way to their room because he can’t see past them.
Whatever he’d imagined, how badly it could’ve gone, that had been so much worse. It hurt way more the second time, knowing they’re gone for good now. He’s not willing to give them a third chance. He’s sure he’ll hear from Bea soon, wondering if he"s lost his mind, so Henry turns his phone off and curls into Alex’s side, as close as he can get.
“That was awful,” Henry whispers into Alex’s ribs where his face is pressed.
Alex has one hand stroking through Henry’s hair, the other holding the book he’d been reading out loud in an attempt to calm Henry down, and he closes the book. “That was shitty. But you never know until you try, and I think you were very brave for trying.”
“I was selfish. I shouldn’t have made the two of you do that with me, but I just…I didn’t want to do it alone.” Henry admits, wiping his cheeks on Alex’s t-shirt.
Alex bends down, kissing Henry’s forehead. “You"re the furthest thing from selfish, baby. I’d rather go through it with you every time than have you go through it alone.”
Henry doesn’t deserve him. Nothing he’s ever done in his life will be an explanation for how he somehow managed to find Alex. “You’re too good to me.”
“As good as you deserve,” Alex is quick to counter. He presses a soft kiss to Henry’s lips, a quick peck. “You deserve the world, sweetheart.”
He falls asleep with Alex’s hand combing through his hair as he resumes reading. It’s the best sleep he’s had in weeks, ever since getting the letter back from his mum. And when he wakes up, they’ve moved apart and Jules is tucked between them, fast asleep. Something clicks in his chest, settling home. They’re going to be okay.