Consenting Adult by Laura Z. Hobson

Author:Laura Z. Hobson [Hobson, Laura Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-3874-5
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media LLC
Published: 2011-03-11T05:00:00+00:00

She had read it twice, her throat tight, and she had said only, “Send it now, Ken, don’t change anything.” They had looked at each other and a spurt of sympathy rose in her, a small hot geyser of feeling, almost pity. It must have been harder for him than he had been able to say, all these months of knowing that it was he who had set into motion the roiling turbulences of distance and separation between them and their own son. She suddenly wondered whether her own willingness to forgive had been deep enough. Poor Ken, he had his own freight to carry, piled upon him from his, own childhood and his own upbringing, as every other human being had his own inherited or environmental burden to carry, through all his ensuing life. As she had. As Jeff had.

Jeff had answered the letter by a phone call on their return from England, a short call but the first call originated by him. “It’s me, Mama,” he had begun soberly. “I got Dad’s letter, could I talk to him?”

“He’s right here. It’s nice to hear you. Wait a sec.”

“Hello, Jeff,” Ken had said. “Good to talk to you.” There had followed a few sentences and then she had heard Ken say, “Maybe we can get together for part of Christmas. I’d like that and so would your mother.”

She had nodded to Ken, and then nodded once more, as if she were signaling, yes, yes, get it set, make it firm, a commitment. And she thought, Maybe everything will come back together again after all. Jeff is not vindictive, neither is Ken. Maybe—

Christmas had been merry enough, she remembered, and all the other Christmases since then. It was at Margie and Nate’s that the tree and the presents and the gathering of all the family had taken place, and Jeff had managed their first meeting since the break with an odd and mature dignity. The “Hi” and “Great” never sounded; he had greeted her solemnly; she could still hear his “Merry Christmas, Mama,” and feel his kiss on her cheek, he stooping in his old way to plant it there. Then he had straightened and looked at his father. For an instant neither of them spoke, then it was Jeff who said, “Dad, Merry, merry,” and they had shaken hands. Ken had put both his hands around Jeff’s and something in Tessa was moved by that simple fact. The extra hand, the reaching gesture, the small offering beyond the orthodox greeting. If Jeff noticed he had given no sign, and the general bedlam of other greetings, from Don and Jenny and their children, from an excited and bewildered Lynnie, all mixed in with admiration of the handsome towering tree and the lavish spread of bright and shining packages beneath it—it all made a combination potent enough to sweep them all along in what seemed like happiness.

Her memory again … that summer afternoon a year after Jeff had left them, and Margie calling her to suggest she stop by on the way home from the office.

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