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Chapter Thirty-One

Zeke

I found myself in a slightly warm garage, bent over a table next to my would-be father-in-law, daubing paint on little plastic figurines. A slight tremor in his hand had his paint going in unexpected ways that didn’t quite match the specimens he had lining the walls in little display settings.

“Not as good as I used to be.” He gave a wry laugh. “But it keeps me focused, puts my mind on things, keeps my fine motor skills up.”

I nodded at him as I squinted and dotted at the eyes of some beastly creature and held it out for his inspection. He nodded and tilted the magnifying glass on his visor down to inspect. As he held his head still, at least as still as he could, I noticed a slight tremor in the way he held his head a little off. “I’ll have you do the eyes on a few more before you head out.”

“Happy to help.” And I found myself to genuinely be so. His company was quiet, a little introspective, the conversation deep but uncomplex.

Did I love his son? Absolutely.

Did I have career prospects and goals? Of course.

Explaining that much was difficult, but I was the head of my library and had the eventual goal of moving higher up in the branch—and where I went, I would drag Lex with me. And I let slip the intentions to buy a house, to move in with Lex. Not that Mesmer would be buying it or how—but I had money.

I acted as if the money was the product of shrewd investments and a small sum my family had put away for me—a family I was not connected to for reasons.

“I’m going to be rude and ask the reasons. I care for my son, you know.” He leaned over his workspace, squinting into his visor.

I cleared my throat. “Never knew my mom. Father wasn’t too happy to have made me—raised with them for a bit and ended up being fostered. No family that stuck around from that situation. I got left a small trust and lucked out with the library and my degree.”

The degree I had was ancient and worthless, but I had one the moment I convinced the Archivist’s Society to allow me to attend one of the first black colleges. I treasured that damn bit of paper.

“So, Mr. Z—”

“Mike.” Lex’s father, Mikhail Zaslavsky, preferred the moniker. He didn’t offer to be called dad like Rachael had. But it was nice.

“Mike. I won’t consider it rude if you have anything pressing or deeper you want to ask. I’m not exactly the ideal specimen of a partner. No family, gay, interracial… It’s a lot, I know.” I averted my gaze and focused on the painting. Some oily glaze that seeped into the cracks for effect slid easily down my small brush.

“Honestly, it was a relief that he’s gay.” Mike froze as if he’d said something terrible and swore under his breath. But in any case, he sighed and put his brush down before sitting up. “What I tell you doesn’t leave this room. I know you love my son and I love him too, so when it’s time to tell him, I will.”

I glanced up and sat my brush down as he flicked his visor up and turned off the goofy little lamp. “Neurological disease. I’ve got the worst kind, and it’s taking me down. Runs in my family and Rachael’s. We were child-free for that reason. Alexei was a surprise. We thought we didn’t have to be careful anymore. And we debated on terminating.”

I nodded, stomach clenching, though I knew no matter what lay in store for Lex, I could fix it. We could cure him.

“We did all the tests, and he’s a carrier, asymptomatic. A real blessing.” He made a little gesture and looked up in a way I didn’t know if was cultural or religious. In either case, my stomach knotted. “But we wanted to have that talk with him… Maybe tell him to get a vasectomy, talk him into being safe as a carrier, but then he came out. I’m thankful there won’t be children carrying this mishegas on.”

My head swam as an urge to faint overcame me. There was all the chance in the world that—I wondered. “So, his children?”

“You planning on surrogacy or something? A bit soon to be planning.” He gave me a wink.

“We want to be sure we’re on the same page about things if we decide to go that way.”

“Well, it is more or less in our community. So, have the egg donor checked for it, but even if it’s recessive—it can still crop up.” He shrugged.

“Shouldn’t Lex know?”

“We had him tested every year his whole childhood, and it’s fully dormant in him. There’s always a chance later in life, but there’s nothing he can do now but wait for symptoms, and that’s a life I never wanted for him. The likelihood is small, though.” He cracked a half smile. “I’ll tell him. I just don’t want that worry.”

He wouldn’t, because he’d never grow old enough for the disease to take.

But unless our child was something special, too, they’d be at risk.

“How long do you have?” Probably a rude question, but I had to ask as I reached across to lay my hand on his wrist.

“Five years on the upside?” He gave me a half grin. “I’ll break it to him soon. I just wanted him safe and on his feet when I did so. Didn’t want him trying to come back and live at home and put his life on hold for some amorphous death date hanging around.”