One True Theory of Love (35 page)

O
n the four-minute drive to Ahmed’s house, Meg ate the O Twix candy bar and sent up a prayer of thanks that Henry was okay. She also asked for guidance on how to reach Ahmed’s heart in a way that would open it to her again, but unfortunately no insights had arrived by the time she pulled up to his property.

She sprang up the walkway, eager to set her eyes on Henry and see for herself that he was safe, but when she landed at the front door, which was open, she stopped herself because she saw Henry and Ahmed deep in conversation and was taken back again to that very first day they’d met, and to so many days since then, remembering their heads tilted toward each other, the man and her man-to-be, keeping good counsel. Today, they had mugs of tea set out before them on the coffee table with a little tray of sugar cubes between them.

On the couch, Henry’s back was to her. Ahmed, in his work clothes but with his tie loosened, leaned forward in the armchair as he listened intently to Henry. Ahmed saw and didn’t acknowledge Meg, but neither did he alert Henry to her presence. His expression was one of affectionate absorption, and as he allowed Meg to eavesdrop, she understood why.

“And so you should be mad at me, not her,” Henry said. “She was supermad—screaming mad—when she found out I called him. She almost drove off and left me at the park! I know I shouldn’t’ve done it, but it was the only way I could think of to get her to marry you.”

Ahmed raised an eyebrow. “If and when people marry needs to be up to them only. You can’t meddle in your mom’s life like that. It’s not fair to her.”

“But she thought she was bad at being married, and she was wrong,” Henry said. “Now she knows she’s not. If I hadn’t’ve called him, she still wouldn’t know that.”

Ahmed sipped his tea, slowing down the momentum of the conversation. Henry, too, sipped his tea after popping a sugar cube into his mouth to suck on while he drank it—the Persian way of taking tea.

“What was it like, talking to your dad?” Ahmed asked.

Henry shrugged. “It wasn’t like anything.” He reached to the plate of sugar cubes, took several and began tossing them in the air. Meg rolled her eyes. Ahmed watched him for a few moments and then asked him to stop.

“This is important.” Ahmed spoke in a low, conversational tone. “He’s your father. Were you nervous? Angry? You know that my dad wasn’t around for me when I was growing up, either. I used to get real mad about that sometimes. Sad sometimes, too.”

Henry shrugged again. “I wasn’t mad or sad.”

But from behind, Meg saw Henry sniffle and wipe his nose.

“I just felt bad, because he didn’t ask me anything about myself,” he said. “Not one single, stupid thing, like what my favorite food was or did I have a best friend. That sort of thing. I think, you know, he should have asked.”

“He was probably very surprised to hear from you,” Ahmed said. “He was probably so surprised he could hardly think straight.”

“Yeah,” Henry agreed. “My mom said he asked a ton of questions about me when she saw him.”

“How did you feel about her seeing him like that?” Ahmed asked. “Did you know she was going to?”

Nosy,
Meg thought.
None of your business.

Henry shook his head. “I didn’t even know he was here until yesterday.”

“How do you feel about your mom not telling you?” Ahmed eyed Meg in the doorway. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I didn’t care,” Henry said.

“It didn’t bother you that she kept such a big secret from you?” Ahmed said. “Because it bothered me a lot that she kept it from me.”

“She didn’t do it to hurt you,” Henry said. “She did it not to hurt you.”

Yeah,
Meg thought.
Take that.

“But I am hurt,” Ahmed said.

Get over it,
Meg thought irritably.

“She’s sorry,” Henry said. “She’s really, really sorry. She wants to marry you and for us to live here and for you to be my dad. That’s what she wants, and I do, too. I want you to be my dad. Like we talked about.”

Ahmed glanced at Meg, then back to Henry.

“It’s really hard to get marriages right,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Most people don’t, and it’s an awful feeling when a marriage fails, and that feeling doesn’t go away for a really long time. So you’ve got to be a hundred percent sure before you marry someone. You’ve got to have one hundred percent trust, and your mom and I don’t have that anymore.”

“She didn’t lie,” Henry said. “What she did was not an actual, true lie. She just kept a secret.”

“There’s this thing called a lie by omission that applies here,” Ahmed said.

“Please,” Henry pleaded. “I’ll do anything
.
”

Meg couldn’t stand by anymore. Henry’s desperation reminded her too much of herself back when Jonathan had left. She’d had no pride, no depth to which she wouldn’t sink to make him stay.

“Enough, Henry,” she said from the doorway, stepping inside. “You can’t bully someone into loving you.”

“I love him,” Ahmed snapped at her. “Don’t you dare suggest otherwise.”

“You be quiet,” Meg said. “I’ve had quite enough of your pity party.”

“Mom!” Henry ran to her and threw his arms around her waist and squeezed her. He was her desperate little cobra, sobbing profusely. Meg kissed his forehead and tried to comfort him and whispered what felt like lies about how everything would be okay.

Ahmed joined them near the door. “Don’t ever suggest that I don’t love him.” His voice had lost its snappishness, but Meg’s anger toward him had not abated.

“One fight,” she said, disgusted. “One stupid fight and you walk? Is that the best you can do?”

“I didn’t walk because of the fight and you know it,” he said.

“You’re so afraid of being left that you leave first—is that it?” Meg asked. “
Man.
Here I thought you were my lion, but you’re just a scaredy-cat. You’ve got that whole fear-of-abandonment thing going on.”

“No, Meg,
you’ve
got that whole fear-of-abandonment thing going on,” Ahmed said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t project your own screwed-up issues onto me. I’ve always survived being left. Sometimes it’s the best thing that can happen, even though it might not be obvious at the time.”

Such the rationalizer. Such the quitter.

“But that’s not the case here,” Meg said. “It would be a mistake for you to let this end. You love me, Ahmed! I dare you to say you don’t, and if you do say it, you’re the real liar around here.”

“Sometimes love’s not enough,” he said. “Didn’t you just say that the other day?”

“I was wrong!” Meg tried to rein in her emotions. “You were the smart one,” she continued calmly. “You said that yes, love is enough if you decide it is. Remember?”

“I remember.” His eyes glistened.

“Maybe my decision to see Jonathan without telling you was a bad one,” she said. “Maybe not. I still don’t really know. But right, wrong or indifferent, it was
my
decision to make and I stand by it because I made it out of love. That’s the important point:
I made it out of love.
Do you believe that?”

Ahmed looked positively miserable. He went back to the living room proper and took a seat in his armchair. “I think you made it out of fear.”

“There was some fear involved,” Meg admitted. “But it came from a place of love, too.”

She went to him, knelt before him and put her hand on his knee.

“Listen,” she said. “It can be very hard to stop being mad at a person after you’ve been mad at them for a long time. I know this. I was mad at Jonathan for ten years. Anger is what killed my parents’ relationship. Let’s not make the same mistake. I know you’re deeply, deeply disappointed in me, but we have something really special here, Ahmed. We have something precious.”

Ahmed’s eyes were muddy, troubled waters, and Meg wished she could pull him to her and comfort him, but she sensed he wouldn’t let her—yet.

“I’ll leave you now,” she said gently. “I’ll leave you to think. But you’ve got to know that our relationship was never in danger by my seeing him. Jonathan can’t ruin what you and I have. Only you and I can do that, and I, for my part, am not going to. You’re the best thing that’s come my way in a very long time, and I treasure you, and I will always treasure you.”

Ahmed, fighting tears, gave Meg the saddest smile she’d ever seen, and she wanted to say the words a million times.

“I treasure you, Ahmed,” she repeated. “I treasure everything about you. I just hope that even in your anger you can see that you treasure me and Henry, too. Because we’re keepers.”

W
ow,” Henry said as they drove away. “You were awesome back there. You were even better than me.”

Meg scoffed. “I was way better than you.”

“Not way better,” Henry said. “Just a little bit.”

Meg looked at him in the rearview mirror. “I don’t know if giving him more time is going to work, Henry. He might not change his mind—but it’s worth a shot, right?”

“Um, yeah!”

“Okay,” she said. “So I need to talk to Grandpa now.”

“Is he mad at you, too?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m mad at him.”

“Because of Sandi?” he asked.

I don’t friggin’ believe this,
Meg thought.
My nine-year-old son figures these things out before I do.
She looked at Henry in the rearview mirror. “What do you know about him and Sandi?”

“They like each other,” Henry said. “It’s totally obvious.”

“It wasn’t obvious to me,” she said.

“A lot of things aren’t,” he said. “Grandma says it’s because you insist on seeing the best in people.”

“I don’t think that’s such a bad way to be,” she said.

“Me neither. I think we’re happier this way.” Henry sang one of his favorite kindergarten songs, with embellishments he’d learned at camp. “ ‘Stay on the sunny side, always on the sunny side, stay on the sunny side of life—yee haw! You’ll feel no pain as we’re driving you insane. Stay on the sunny side of life. Tell a joke!’

“Hey, Mom,” he said. “Why did Tigger stick his head in the toilet?”

Meg grinned. “I have no idea.”

“He was looking for Pooh.”

She groaned. “That’s disgusting!”

“It’s supposed to be!” Henry said. “That’s the whole point!”

 

 

 

When they arrived at Phillip’s office, Sandi was behind her desk, reading a Harlequin romance.
She needs a new hairstyle,
Meg thought uncharitably.
That one’s forty years past its prime.

“Hi, Sandi,” she said.

“Hi, you two! Your father’s not expecting you, is he?” Meg could tell Sandi was trying to assess her mood without letting on.

“Is he here?”

“He is.” Sandi scanned her phone’s display. Meg was sure she was looking for a way to warn her father.

“I’ll just surprise him,” Meg said. “We seem to be all about surprises lately.”

“Go get him, Mom,” Henry said. As Meg headed to her father’s door, she heard Henry say to Sandi, “You should have seen her with Ahmed. She was awesome.”

When Meg entered her father’s office, he startled back in his chair. “Meg! I was just about to leave here and come see you.”

Her anger spiked upon seeing him. “About what, Dad? The price of tea in China?”

Phillip gestured. “Have a seat.”

When she remained standing, he came around his desk and led her to the couch. He gave her a long, intense look. “I have a confession,” he said. “I lied when you asked if I was seeing Sandi. I am, in fact, seeing her, and I’ve been seeing her for a long time.”

“I know you’re seeing her. Ahmed told me,” Meg said icily. “Plus, I was sitting ten feet behind you at the stadium the other day when you were on the phone assuring me that you
weren’t
seeing her. It made me sick, Dad, that you’d lie to me like that.”