Chapter Text
Back when the pre-divorce fighting between Ellen and Oscar was at its worst, Alex hid in his room, headphones on and music up to its peak. Tears in his eyes, he would lie on the floor and think, “I won’t be like them when I’m older. I’ll love better than they did.” No screaming matches behind closed doors. No misunderstandings. No giving up on each other. A promise to change, to be better, was how a cycle was broken.
Right?
Alex didn’t have a plan when he stormed out of Phillip and Martha’s house and into the damp nighttime chill of Chiswick. Unless “put as many fucking miles between me and Henry Fox as humanly possible” counted as a plan. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional passing car or howling dog. He used his phone to find a nearby subway station. The sight of his phone’s wallpaper, a photo of them posing outside the Moulin Rouge, felt like it was mocking him.
Fuck you, Alex thought viciously, locking his phone. Have fun sleeping by yourself, you miserable fucking asshole!
The night faded into morning in a blur of misery and angst. Purchasing his ticket back to Austin through a veil of tears. Breaking down in a Heathrow bathroom. Drinking shitty, overpriced coffee and blaring music until it was time to board his flight. Anything to block out the fight echoing in his head.
By the time he landed in Austin, Alex was so overstimulated and exhausted that he hid in a bathroom for several minutes, trying not to have the panic attack already boiling to the surface. The gravity of what happened in London hit him all at once. Did he really break up with Henry? Months of pure magic and bliss snuffed out in one argument?
Fuck, how am I going to explain this to everyone?
When he switched off Airplane Mode, his phone exploded with notifications. Missed phone calls and text messages and the never-ending flood of social media…an absolute swarm of fucking bullshit. His hands shook so badly he dropped his phone multiple times while trying to pull up his contacts, which only made him even more frantic.
Goddamn it, I am not going to have another fucking meltdown in another fucking bathroom!
“S-Siri,” he stammered, his heart pounding, “call Leo.”
As the phone continued to ring, tears slid down Alex’s cheeks. Pick up, pick up, pick up! When the call finally connected, Leo was his usual affable self, saying, “Hey, kiddo! How’s London? Your mom and I were just-”
“I’m not in London,” Alex choked out. Footsteps echoed outside the stall. He curled further into himself on the floor. “I-I fucked up, Leo. I’m in Austin. I n-need-”
“Hey, breathe for me. Tell me where you are. Your mom and I will come get you.”
Alex could hear Leo talking to Ellen, soft murmuring and the audio switching in a way that let him know they were in the car. He listened to his mom’s soothing voice, talking him through a breathing exercise, giving him gentle updates on how close they were. After what felt like an eternity, she told him they were outside, and Alex finally emerged from the bathroom. He kept his head low, hood pulled up, hand white-knuckling his luggage handle as he shuffled through crowds of travelers. Ellen joined him in the backseat without him even asking. He let her pull him into her arms and rub his back as he cried.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Her voice was so gentle, like when a bad thunderstorm knocked out the power. She would wrap him and June in a quilt Granny Francis made and read to them by flashlight. It was the voice that said, “You are safe, loved, and protected.”
He sucked in a breath and shook his head. She kissed his temple and whispered, “Okay, that’s okay. Just close your eyes and rest. Momma’s got you. Don’t pay the world outside any never mind.”
Alex curled up in the backseat, his head in her lap, her hands stroking his hair, and closed his eyes. Maybe when he woke up, things would be different. Maybe the past forty-eight hours would turn out to be a horrible nightmare and not a hell of his own making.
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(A note taped to the inside of the Fox guest room door. The script appears unsteady.)
You are human.
You are safe.
You are loved.
──── ↺ ⏮ ⏸ ⏭ ↻ ────
When Alex first saw New Moon, he thought the sequence in which Bella sat by a window as the months flipped by was so stupid. All that drama for some sparkly vampire who did nothing but look constipated and second-guess her every move and decision? That would never be him.
Fast forward to his present situation, and Alex had done nothing for days but hide in one of his mom and Leo’s guest rooms and bed-rot while consuming an endless stream of reality TV garbage. The pair did timely checks, brought him meals, and reminded him to eat, stay hydrated, and take his meds. Their careful tenderness made Alex’s chest ache. His first day back, he asked Ellen to tell June and Nora that he was okay before powering off his phone. He simply couldn’t grapple with the spectacular way in which he had fucked up.
Then, after a week at home, Ellen came into his guest room, but without the usual breakfast tray. He was situated in a nest of pillows and blankets, his current bed-rot show, Say Yes to the Dress, playing. She sat on the edge of the bed near his hip. Her soft blonde curls were pulled back with a scrunchie, and she wore a faded UT shirt and jeans. The look in her eyes told him she meant business.
She reached out and placed a hand over his blanketed thigh, saying softly, “Honey, I know it’s been a rough few weeks, but you isolating like this ain’t healthy.”
“I know.” His voice was rough from disuse. He paused his show and ran his thumb over the remote’s buttons. “I’m just really…”
His voice began to waver, and he dropped the remote to scrub his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt Ellen squeeze his thigh and say, “We don’t have to talk about any of it, okay? But I was thinking that maybe, if you were feeling up to it, we could assemble my Christmas village together? I was saving it for when you got home.”
The Claremont-Diaz family didn’t have much in the way of holiday traditions, but the one they did have, the one Alex looked forward to every year, was the Claremontville Christmas Village. It had multiple tiers, unique neighborhoods, and an entire downtown district with every conceivable shop or business available. It took up much of the family dining area. Alex knew how much this tradition meant to his mom, including and especially the time they spent assembling it.
Alex pushed himself up against the headboard. He took a deep breath when his head started spinning. When was the last time he’d left this bed? Ellen helped him to the bathroom and left him a clean set of clothes. The reflection that greeted Alex was a grim sight: limp, greasy hair, a week’s worth of stubble, and bloodshot, hollow eyes. Yeah, his past self had no room to judge Bella Swan.
The upside of showering, apart from getting clean, was how easy it was to hide whether he cried. Was this how things were going to be now? The sight of his favorite brand of body wash reminding him of Henry teasing him about his “posh” products while scrubbing his back? Getting rid of a week’s worth of stubble and hearing Henry’s sleepy voice asking him not to shave? Running pomade through his hair and feeling Henry’s fingers run through it late at night? Everyday items and products were now part of an emotional minefield, and any of them could trigger new tears and regret.
When Alex made his way downstairs, he found his mom in the kitchen humming along with Bing Crosby crooning “White Christmas.” He helped himself to a mug of coffee and snuck a bit of Bailey’s into it before taking a seat at the kitchen island. If his mom noticed, she didn’t say anything. True to her world, she didn’t ask about London or Henry. Instead, as she chopped peppers and onions for an omelette, Ellen filled him in on Oscar’s knee replacement surgery. She handed him her phone and let him scroll through the pictures and videos June sent of loopy post-op Oscar. When he came across a text asking about him, Alex locked the phone and set it face down on the counter. Too close, too soon. Guilt sat heavily in his stomach. Another thing you forgot while being up your own ass with your bullshit, his mind supplied wickedly.
“Oh fuck, I forgot! The world has to stop in its tracks because Henry Fox is struggling. Because no one else in his life, least of all his fucking boyfriend, could possibly understand! You’d rather suffer in silence!”
“You okay, sugar?”
Alex didn’t realize he zoned out into memory until he felt his mom’s hand squeeze his. He gave her a half-hearted nod and took a long pull from his coffee mug. Alex wasn’t an idiot. He knew people had questions about what happened. One problem was that he didn’t have answers. At least not any that weren’t steeped in his current stew of anger, self-loathing, and regret.
“You know me, Momma. Never could shut up to save my life, much less the best relationship I’ve ever had. Pass me the cinnamon?”
The fucked up part was that, of all people, Ellen Claremont would understand how Alex was feeling. Try though she might to hide it, he saw flickers of shame in her eyes when she talked about her marriage with Oscar, the embarrassment at having failed when the divorce became final. She loved Leo. Alex knew that. But when you create a life and have two children with another person, it was only natural to mourn that lost life. His therapist Maggie once explained that feeling as “hiraeth.” She said the word came from Wales and described the yearning and nostalgia people had to return to places, times, even feelings in the past, and the longing and grief that came with knowing one could not.
Alex quickly stood and busied himself with organizing Ellen’s Christmas village bins while she cooked. The table that held the mighty structure was already set in the family dining area off the kitchen, next to windows overlooking the backyard. Bins were scattered about the floor. As he read their labels and shifted bins around, he said, “Momma, I think we need to officially upgrade this village’s status to a metropolis.”
Ellen didn’t even look up from the stove, used to her children’s teasing. Alex and June were convinced that one of Ellen’s main stipulations when purchasing a house with Leo was the need for a proper area for the village. Having a project pushed all his morose thoughts into the background. Better to focus on separating and organizing than lingering on the question marks surrounding his relationship with Henry.
“So, where’s the holiday party gonna be?” Alex called out.
“Your daddy’s,” Ellen replied. “June and Keesha thought it would be easier on Oscar that way. Come sit down, I got your breakfast ready.”
Alex grabbed his mug from the top of a dusty bin before trotting back. He topped off his coffee and added another splash of Bailey’s before he sat down to devour the massive omelette. His mom watched him give it a generous dousing of Cholula. As he cut into the steaming mass and shoveled a forkful into his mouth, he caught her watching him with a smile.
“Wha’?”
She shook her head, taking a sip of her own coffee. “Nothing, darlin’. Just happy to have you home.”
Alex winked before taking another bite. With his rapidly filling belly and the nice buzz from his spiked coffee, it was easy to slip into a bubble where this was just another Christmas season. Nothing was too big that couldn’t be solved with a home-cooked meal and time with his momma. By the time he finished, his mom had the dishwasher loaded and was busy prepping the grounds of her Christmas village. Alex put his plate in the washer and joined her. There was Christmas music playing on her phone as they divided and conquered. He took bins dedicated to the downtown district and holiday fairgrounds (because of course, there had to be one), and Ellen tackled the neighborhoods. Multiple. It was an easy and familiar rhythm to fall into with her.
Their collective hyperfocus had them working through the morning into the afternoon, with only a brief pause for a pizza lunch. Leo came home to find them fussing over the final details. And by “fussing,” that meant Alex turning to his stepfather and saying in lieu of a greeting, “Leo! Will you please tell your wife that she is being completely unreasonable and that me rearranging one tiny section does not undermine her artistic vision?”
Ellen scoffed and swept a blonde wisp off her forehead. “And once you’ve done that, can you inform your stepson that I brought him into this world and I can still take his narrow ass out?”
Leo’s gaze bounced between them before he smiled and said, “I’m heading to the bar. Would you both like a drink?”
Leo always knew how to diffuse a potentially nuclear situation between the mother and son. The man had the patience of a saint, essential for someone as stubborn as Ellen Claremont. The trio headed to the bar. Leo poured glasses of Maker’s on ice for Alex and Ellen and a large glass of red wine for himself. Alex loved teasing his stepdad by saying that he had the spirit of a California wine mom. The older man took it in stride. He even dressed up as one last Halloween, handing out candy to the neighborhood kids and teens in one of Ellen’s old caftans, with comically oversized sunglasses and a sun hat. Alex still had the videos of June doing Leo’s makeup and cackling until his ribs ached as Leo quoted Laura Dern’s character from Big Little Lies. June even complained at one point that he almost made her piss herself because she was laughing so hard.
“Say, Lex,” Leo said, leaning against the marble counter, “I was wondering if you’d like to join us downstairs for dinner tonight?”
Alex shrugged and took a sip of Maker’s. He felt Ellen’s warm hand on his shoulders as she said, “Wasn’t there a show you wanted to ask him about, honey?”
Leo snapped his fingers. “Yes! Alex, did you catch Like Water for Chocolate while you were on tour? I’ve been dying to pick your brain about it.”
Alex smiled. He could see what they were doing. Toss out a line of interest and see if Alex bit. Part of him wanted to retreat back upstairs, but today had felt good. Hanging out with his mom, arguing about 1:48 scale topiary placement, and giggling over pizza. It felt normal.
Fine…
“I haven’t,” he replied with a shrug. “I read the book ages ago ‘cause my Tia Inez loved it. Wouldn’t mind watching the show.”
Ellen squeezed him close and said, “You know what? I think I got everything to make birria and eloté. We could have a themed viewing party!”
Alex leaned into her embrace. “Sounds like a plan, but we have to make homemade tortillas.”
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Henry’s Personal Journal
Dear Mum,
Remember when Pip and I broke the vase Dad bought for you as an anniversary gift? I think he found it during a holiday in Korea. We attempted to hide the evidence and hoped you wouldn’t notice its absence. But of course you did because Dad brought home some of your favorite flowers and what better object to put them in than another thoughtful gift from your husband. I remember how my heart began racing as you searched for it. All it took was you asking us if we knew where it was for me to break and go to pieces. I could tell you were cross. Your mouth went thin, and you just looked at Dad before going upstairs. He could only look at us and say, “I’m very disappointed in you boys.”
I think his disappointment hurt worse than your anger. I’ve seen and heard similar sentiments in the past two days. I’ve been out of my medication for a while but was trying to manage it while I waited for an appointment with the NHS. I finally told Phillip and Martha, and their reactions spoke volumes. Martha, who’s already dealing with so much, picked up her phone and started making calls. But Pip? He managed to embody both of you in a single conversation. He went out to the garden, his mouth already set in that same thin line, and stood out there. When I followed him, he didn’t even look at me as he said, “Bloody hell, Hen. Why didn’t you say something? I thought…I thought you trusted me enough to tell me that things had gotten so bad.”
I wanted to tell him that of course I did, that I was simply trying to avoid adding more stress on his shoulders. But I didn’t because that would only have made him angrier. Everything is such a bloody mess, and it’s all my fault. How am I meant to help them when all I do lately is add to their troubles?
I wish you were here. It’s times like this that make me ache for you and Dad the most.
I feel lost.
Henry
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“Thanks for helping me out, Leo. I hate being so behind on Christmas shopping.”
“It’s not a problem, Lex. It’s great spending one-on-one time with you.”
The duo left a jewelry store where Alex finally found the perfect gift for June, something for her wedding day. It was a necklace with a multi-pointed star, an Australian blue opal glittering in the center. The perfect “something blue.” Just imagining her wearing it, standing before a mirror in her wedding dress, made Alex teary-eyed and mushy. The small bag joined the pile of others in the backseat of Leo’s car. As his stepdad pulled out of the parking lot, Alex went over his mental checklist to see who was left.
Mom and Leo, done. Dad, June, Nora. Done, done, done. Did I get something for Keesha? God, what did June say she was into? Then there’s Hen-
Fuck.
Alex switched the radio on to block out the onslaught of emotion that little slip-up caused, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears. His fingers twitched, a reflex to reach for his phone. But the device was still in his guest room hideaway, still powered off. As cowardly as it sounded, Alex couldn’t yet bring himself to turn it back on, to see the chaos he left in his wake back in London.
What was Henry doing?
Was he feeling the same way as Alex?
Did he miss Alex?
“Feel like lunch?”
That pulled Alex from a potential downward spiral. He straightened up and said quickly, “Uh, yeah, sure, but I’ll-”
“Not a chance, squirt.” Leo changed lanes. “My treat, Mr. Popstar.”
Leo chose Southeast West. The head hostess, Georgia, dropped her mask of professionalism immediately when the two men entered the restaurant. She bounced from behind the host stand and into Alex’s arms. Two servers rushed over and began jockeying for a chance to have them in their sections.
Nico squashed the debate when he clapped a hand on Leo’s shoulder and said, “There’s my favorite taste tester! You’re sitting at the bar with me. I need your notes on my New Year’s Eve cocktails.”
“Hey!” Alex said, outraged. He let Georgia go only to give the bartender a playful shove. “I thought I was your favorite taste tester?”
“Of course you are…when Leo isn’t available.”
“Alex!”
He turned to his name and saw the pastry chef, Miss Janice. The mature black woman pulled him into a fierce hug, rocking him back and forth. After the hug, she pulled her phone from her flour-covered apron to show him pictures of her new granddaughter. By the time he joined Leo at the bar, his stepdad and Nico had three glasses of varying shades of purple liquid between them. Leo poked a cocktail straw in the middle one and brought it to his lips. Sucking on it, he said, “Yeah, I agree. You need something to balance out the dryness of the champagne and gin. The creme de violet has a nice floral sweetness, but it’s being overpowered by the other two.”
Alex picked up some straws and began sampling the mixes. Meanwhile, Leo and Nico went over the bartender’s recipe notebook. Nico picked up a plastic squeeze bottle and asked, “What about simple syrup?”
Leo shook his head and scratched his salt-and-pepper beard. This was very much his playground. Once Alex finished his sampling, he licked his lips and asked, “What about fresh OJ and lemon juice?”
That got the pair’s attention. Leo perked up while Nico whipped around to face the bar’s expansive alcohol selection, saying, “Yes! And I can switch out Sapphire for-”
“Empress!” Leo exclaimed as Nico grabbed the bottle of indigo-colored gin.
“Fuck,” Nico said, his hands a blur as he made another version of the cocktail, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.”
The final cocktail was perfect. Alex, not much of a gin person, took the glass while Nico adjusted his notes. He took a sip and said with a smug smile, “You’re welcome, Nico. Is Leo still your favorite taste tester?”
Nico looked up from his notebook and rolled his eyes. He picked up a used lemon wedge and tossed it at Alex. “Shut up, you little shit. Don’t you get enough validation from all your fans?”
Jane looped behind the bar, her hands full of appetizers. Alex pointed at the bartender and said, “Chef, I’d like to file a complaint! This member of your staff is bullying me.”
“Knowing you,” she said, setting down plates of pork belly wonton tacos and elote baby corn bites, “it was warranted.”
Alex snatched up a wonton taco. “Why do I put up with this disrespect? I can take my business elsewhere, you know!”
Jane scoffed and put her hands on her hips, giving him a no-nonsense look and saying, “Don’t make me laugh, CD. You keep acting up, and I’ll have Ms. Janice eighty-six the special dessert she’s making for you.”
Just then, Alex heard a feminine gasp behind him. The kind that told him someone recognized him and was about to interrupt his bubble of anonymity with, “Oh my god, you’re Alex Claremont-Diaz!” His shoulders tensed, but before he could even switch to his more palatable public face, he heard Georgia say, “Oh, ma’am, I’m sorry, but we ask that you leave other guests be during their meals. Your table is right around the corner.”
He maintained eye contact with Jane during the exchange and said softly, “Thank her for me.”
“Of course,” she said, “you’re family.”
She headed back to the kitchen, and Nico went to the end of the bar where the printer sounded with another drink order. Moments like that were one of the many reasons Alex kept coming back here. The staff protected him while still giving him shit. They treated him like anyone else, something he hadn’t felt since he was eighteen. And after three months of being The Alex Claremont-Diaz, he relished the spaces where he could be Just Alex.
“You okay, kiddo?”
He glanced at his stepdad and nodded. As he reached for a piece of baby corn, the older man lifted his wine glass and asked, “Do you know what this is?”
Alex stuffed corn covered with cotija and Sriracha mayo and said around it, “Adult grape juice?”
“I will make you walk home.”
“Oh, got a death wish, do you? My momma would tear you limb from limb and still make it look like an accident.”
Leo conceded the point with a nod. He set the glass between them and swirled it on the marble bar top. Seemingly satisfied, he picked it up again and hovered his nose over the rim, saying, “This, my beloved stepson whom I would never abandon, is a Pinot Noir hailing from the Pacific Northwest in the Willamette Valley of Oregon. A 2016 vintage, a great year for the wine region, even if it was disastrous for the rest of the country.”
Alex swallowed his food and licked the corner of his mouth. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“As you should.” Leo finally took a sip, and Alex caught a glimmer of something in the older man’s expression. It resembled the feeling Alex got when he nailed a troublesome chord or lyric change for a new song. Leo set the glass down and angled his body toward Alex. “It has a nickname.”
“Do tell.”
“The Heartbreak Grape,” he replied with a grin. He scratched his beard and chuckled, “It’s a very troublesome little fruit. Has a thin skin, so it’s susceptible to changes in the weather and climate.”
Why were they talking about grapes? Alex shook his head. Lord knows his family listened to enough of his rants about random music history and facts. He could shut up and listen to his stepdad ramble about wine.
“Sounds like a pain in the ass.”
“Oh, it can be,” Leo said. “And even when the winemaker manages to have the perfect season with grapes ripe for the picking, Pinot Noir can still spoil during the fermentation process. They’re prone to oxidation, so too much handling or a heavy oak treatment can ruin a batch.”
“Then why bother?” Alex asked. He glared at the glass as if it slapped him across the face and stole his wallet. “Like…there’s got to be easier grapes to grow that still produce great wines, right?”
Leo looked off into space, contemplating his response. The hustle and bustle of the restaurant hummed around them. The kitchen calling for hands, Nico arguing with a server about a drink order. Then he looked back at Alex and put a hand on his shoulder, saying softly, “Because when those rare seasons come along where everything goes right, the results are magical. Just because something seems impossible doesn’t mean it isn’t worth fighting for, Alex.”
Oh. Thin skin. Susceptible to change. Maybe they weren’t talking about wine after all.
Alex looked down at his hands, suddenly very interested in his too-short nails and ruined cuticles. He pressed his thumbs together until the skin around his pads went white, trying to sound casual as he said, “I guess, but like…what if it’s a sign that it wasn’t meant to be? Maybe the winemaker thought he understood Pinot Noir, thought he knew what it took to get the vines to flourish and thrive, had what he thought were the perfect conditions to ferment the wine, but it turns out he was dumb and naive?”
By the time he finished speaking, his throat burned and ached from the lump growing inside it. He felt Leo’s hand slide back and forward between his shoulder blades. A rogue tear slid from the corner of Alex’s eye. Goddamn it, he didn’t want to cry! It felt like that was all he had done since London.
“That doesn’t sound like any winemaker I know,” came Leo’s gentle reply. Alex clenched his jaw and kept his head down. Leo continued to rub his back. “It isn’t dumb or naive to have hope. If the winemaker is persistent enough and willing to learn from his mistakes, he can always look forward to the promise of next season, for the bottle that reminds him why he put in all the effort in the first place.”
That hit him like a kick to the stomach. He excused himself and hurried to the bathroom. The door barely shut behind him before a sob bubbled past his lips. It echoed off the walls of the small space as Alex leaned against the door and slid to the floor. Another meltdown in a public restroom? This was not a great precedent to continue. He thumped his head back on the door and tried to do a breathing exercise. In four seconds, hold seven seconds, out-
“Lex, it’s Nico. You good?”
“Y-yeah,” he called out, hastily scrubbing at his cheeks and nose. “I’ll be back out in a sec! Have Leo order for me, okay?”
“Heard.”
Some winemaker I am, he thought bitterly. Get into a fight, and what do I do? High tail it and run home like a spoiled little kid. If Leo knew the truth, knew about the things he and Henry said to each other that night, he would understand how beyond saving they were. If their love was a vineyard, it was a charred ruin with salted earth for good measure. There wasn’t any coming back from something so scorched and poisoned.
When he went back to the bar, there was a glass of Shiner waiting for him. Alex grabbed it and chugged half in a few messy gulps. Leo didn’t comment on his abrupt departure or ruddy complexion, only laughed and patted his back when the younger man let out a mighty belch. Their entrees already ordered, they contented themselves chatting with Nico and lingering servers about their upcoming holiday plans. When Leo mentioned their own plans, Alex kept his expression purposefully neutral. It would be the first time he saw June and Nora since their engagement party. What did they know about what happened between him and Henry? Had they reached out to Phillip and Martha? Or maybe even Henry?
Jane returned to the bar with their entrees and another tease about the special dessert from Ms. Janice. She lingered for their first bites. Alex let out a slightly pornographic moan when he took a bite of his braised oxtail. Ruby, an older server, was passing by and quipped, “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Jane,” Alex said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “your food needs to come with a warning label. ‘Will make you act a fool in public.’”
“I’ll have Auggie slap something on Insta,” she chuckled and turned back to the kitchen.
Ms. Janice’s mystery dessert turned out to be a slice of pandan coconut tres leches cake. Alex had to give her another hug and made her promise not to tell his abuela that this was his new favorite version of the dessert. She came back to the bar with another slice in a to-go container and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Before the duo left the restaurant, Leo got into a bickering match with first Nico and then Jane about the subject of payment. When it became clear that neither would take the credit card the older man kept thrusting toward them, Leo plucked two crisp hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and stuffed them into Nico’s tip jar. There was a final round of hugs from servers and bussers before they stepped outside.
Alex pretended to fall asleep on the drive back to the house. It wasn’t that he blamed Leo for attempting that conversation. Knowing his mom, Ellen probably “gently” nudged Leo into it. Their concern was understandable. It wasn’t often that Alex shut down like this. He was so much like Ellen. Gnaw on the problem like a dog with a bone until nothing but gristle was left. But talking about what happened with Henry felt impossible. Even almost three weeks later, Alex still couldn’t find the words.
Ellen was curled up in the living room when they got back, neck deep in her annual Hallmark Christmas movie marathon. Leo lifted the to-go carton laden with her own meal from Southeast West and offered to plate it up for her. She accepted and gave him a kiss before he went to the kitchen. Alex, his hands full of Christmas gifts, sat down next to her and curled into her side. He asked her questions to catch him up on the plot of the movie.
If only real life and its many problems could be solved with a Christmas miracle and a mug of hot cocoa…
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Henry’s Personal Journal
Dear Dad,
I’ve been going through my memories, trying to recall a time when you and Mum fought. I’m sure it happened. No relationship is perfect. Perhaps it’s harder to find examples through the rose-tinted glasses of childhood? You two were always my ideal. That rare example of two souls meeting and fusing into a new whole. I apologize for the overly sentimental tone. I’ve been keeping Martha company, and she’s been consuming a regular diet of holiday films during the day. Pen and Gracie have given up trying to change her mind and retreated upstairs or to their friends’ houses.
I’m doing better, I think. I met with a GP and got back on my medications. Things with Pip are still tense. Maz says to give him time, that sometimes, it’s easier for him to be angry than admit how worried or scared he is. Christ, he really is Mum made over. I’m sure this would amuse you to no end.
I haven’t heard from Alex. Not that I blame him. I was such an ungrateful arse. Who picks a fight with someone who just spent ten hours on a plane to see them? Your youngest child, apparently. And even though it hurt that he left without a word, I can’t say that I don’t understand. I wouldn’t want to deal with that version of me either.
Yes, I know I’m being uncharitable toward myself, but it is what it is. At least this time, as opposed to last time in Dublin, I know I’ve mucked things up. So…progress? My relationship with Alex, if you can even still call it that, feels rather hopeless at present. Martha, the eternal optimist, believes that we still have a chance. I wish I shared her optimism. Perhaps that will change with the new year.
Kiss Mum for me. I love you.
Henry
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“This is fucking embarrassing. I mean, are the Texans even trying?”
Alex snickered and took a long pull from his beer. Everyone had spread out between the living room and dining room. The women were currently engaged in a cutthroat game of Uno while the men were lounging in the living room. On the TV was the extremely one-sided face-off between the Baltimore Ravens and the Houston Texans. Even as a diehard 49ers fan, Oscar chose to root for the Texans because he liked their quarterback, CJ Stroud. The game was nearly at the end of the second quarter, and the struggling Texans had only managed two measly points.
“At least the halftime show will be dope,” Alex offered, wiggling his feet on the coffee table. “I can’t wait to see what Beyoncé does.”
“This game don’t deserve her talents.”
Leo stood with an old man groan. He stretched his arms over his head and asked, “You two want anything? I’m heading to the kitchen.”
Father and son shook their heads. The day was fun and healthy. Alex loved Keesha. She ran the kitchen like the Navy with June and Leo, not allowing Alex to help. So he spent that time relaxing with his dad and Nora and watching football. No one tried to tug him aside for a secret conversation, although June did give him an extra-tight hug when he arrived with Ellen and Leo. When they gathered around for gift-giving, June loved her necklace. Alex helped her put it on while she dabbed at her watery eyes, saying, “You little turd, making me cry on Christmas!”
Alex kissed her cheek and hugged her. “Love you, Junebug.”
“Love you too, Little Bit.”
As the game went into halftime, Oscar nudged him with his elbow and said, “I missed you, kiddo.”
Alex nudged him back and slouched further into the couch. “Missed you too, Dad. I’m sorry I didn’t-”
“Nah, it’s all right.” Oscar shifted slightly and groaned, rubbing his knee. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate. CJ told me that you and your fella got into a fight. Wanna tell me about it?”
Alex tensed. It wasn’t a surprise to learn about the speculation about his abrupt return from London, but that didn’t stop the spark of annoyance he felt. He finished off his beer and said, “It’s stupid, I was stupid. It’s just…I don’t know. I don’t know where we’re at right now.”
“You’re not stupid, son. People are rarely smart when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“Hey, look at you, a poet and you didn’t know it.”
“All right, smartass. I know what you’re doing.”
Alex finally looked at Oscar, whose brown eyes were so like his own, now searching his face. Alex leaned forward to put his empty bottle on the coffee table. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he stuffed his hands in the front of his hoodie and chuckled, “And what am I doing, old man?”
“Deflecting with humor,” Oscar replied immediately. And damn, Alex was caught. “Avoiding a tough conversation. And look, I know I didn’t make it easy for you growing up, but I’d like to think we’re on better footing nowadays. You can talk to me, son. I want to listen.”
What a younger Alex would have given to hear those words from Oscar. That wasn’t to say the elder Diaz never listened. But sometimes, he didn’t seem to have the patience for his son’s boundless energy and endless questions and tangents. After a long day at the office, Alex often heard “Damn it, son. Stop getting underfoot!” or “Go upstairs, Alex. I’ve had a long damn day.”
Alex looked at his feet and wiggled his toes again. No one had directly asked him about that night. It was purposeful, as he maintained his reluctance to discuss it. But his dad asking, even admitting to previous shortcomings, formed a crack in that reluctance. He cleared his throat and said, “I-I fucked up. I fucked up real bad, Dad, and now I’m worried that we’re broken up and beyond fixing.”
“One step at a time, Lex. Tell me what happened.”
A visceral wave of memory made his stomach clench. Alex lifted his shoulder and scrubbed it against his chin, saying, “I landed in London late that night and was totally zonked. I got the earliest direct flight that I could from Austin. I don’t even think I slept after getting back from the engagement party. Henry’s brother offered to pick me up, but I was like nah, I wanted me showing up to be a surprise, you know?”
He remembered texting back and forth with Phillip in the Uber to Chiswick. The Fox brothers were the only ones awake, watching TV. Alex remembered his nervous anticipation, willing his driver to go faster, gritting his teeth at every traffic light. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around Henry and never let go. He didn’t even text Phillip when he finally arrived, just grabbed his bag and tripped over his feet to the front door. The eldest Fox answered, grinned, and called out, “Hen, come see this!”
When Henry appeared in the doorway, his blue eyes went wide as Alex rushed forward and buried his face in the older man’s chest. Phillip disappeared as they hugged. After a moment of silence, Henry suggested they head downstairs.
Oscar hummed and asked, “I take it that’s when things got hairy?”
Alex nodded. He felt tears sliding down his burning cheeks. The words, the escalation, the heartache that followed pounded in his head like an unrelenting bass line. He sucked in a breath and choked out, “It was like me being there at the house was this big inconvenience. But like, instead of just taking a beat or something, I went right for the nuclear option! Hit Henry right where it hurt. Shit, Henry was the one who suggested we chill out and hit pause, rest, and try again in the morning!”
There was a vindictive anger pulsing through Alex’s veins when Henry cut the argument short. Looking back now, he could see the exhaustion in the man’s entire frame, that he didn’t have the energy or heart for this fight. But in the moment, all Alex could think was, “Okay, Henry. If my mere presence is such a fucking inconvenience to you, I can fix that super fast. Have a great fucking life.”
Once he started speaking, Alex found he couldn’t stop. It felt a bit like Confession. He shook his head and continued, “But I was fucking stubborn and didn’t want to sleep on the couch! I wanted to be with my fucking boyfriend! So I ran away. If he didn’t want to hash things out right then and there, I wasn’t going to let him try again later.”
“Oh, mijo.” He felt his dad slide a hand along his back before tugging him into the crook of his arm. “You are so like your momma. But it’s okay to be upset, son, to feel hurt that your boyfriend seemed like he didn’t want you there. That’s okay.”
“But to run away?” Alex countered. “To just bail because things got hard? That’s not okay.”
“I’m not saying it is, but it takes two people to start a fight,” Oscar replied, still hugging Alex close. “I may not know everything that was said, but I don’t believe that it all rests on your shoulders. I just don’t.”
Alex wasn’t ready for Oscar’s compassion and understanding. As much as he wanted it, part of him, the part that wasn’t ready to hear anything that wasn’t the same narrative of self-loathing he stewed in since London, wanted someone to confirm it. To tell him just how badly he fucked up. And why not Oscar? That was what he did when Alex was a kid.
Alex pulled away and looked at his dad, suddenly feeling angry. He sniffed and croaked, “Really? Didn’t you always tell me that I never stop and think? That my bad temper was gonna get me into trouble if I wasn’t careful? That I needed to act more like June?”
It wasn’t fair. The constant comparisons might have made others bitter or resentful, but Alex always looked up to his big sister. He did want to be more like her. Calm, understanding, with a pleasing smile and a cool head under pressure. But that was as much a mask as her genuine nature. It wasn’t until they worked together as adults that he truly saw the toll those expectations took on her. Her concerns about how a single misstep might affect the way fans or the media perceived her.
Things were better with Oscar now, but that didn’t mean old hurts and resentment didn’t resurface from time to time. His questions were cheap shots, meant to incite frustration in his dad. Perhaps to test the man’s resolve to do better by his son.
Oscar, to his credit, didn’t take Alex’s bait. He simply took his son’s hand between his own. Looking at Alex, he said, “I’m sorry, Alex. I’m sorry I never told you enough how proud I am to be your daddy. I’m sorry I was so hard on you and played favorites and constantly compared you to CJ. I fucked up, plain and simple. But if you’re looking for someone to punish you, that ain’t gonna be me. I’m just here to listen and love you.”
That broke Alex, and he fell into his dad’s arms. The knowledge that his dad loved him was never in doubt when Alex was little. He and Ellen said it constantly, in words and in actions. But there were times when Alex’s brain, wracked with insecurity and self-doubt, wondered if his dad actually liked him. Was there something wrong in him that made Oscar turn away? Was that why he urged caution with their music until June insisted it was something real for all three of them? Did Alex remind Oscar too much of Ellen, especially when their marriage was on the point of completely fracturing? Even after they both began their separate and joint healing journeys, Alex still wondered if he and his dad would ever find that same closeness Oscar naturally shared with June.
Oscar held him and pressed kisses into his hair and on his forehead. Alex let himself cry and make a mess of his dad’s shirt. When Oscar began to speak again, Alex felt the words rumble against his cheek.
“I know you think you’re screwed up,” the older man murmured, rubbing his son’s back. “And I won’t lie. It sounds like you boys made a mess of things. Both of you. But you know what else I know? That my son never gives up on the things that matter.”
Alex breathed in the scent of his dad. The smoky, earthy essence of his old faithful cologne, Ralph Lauren’s Polo Green. The powdery warmth of Aqua Velva Musk aftershave. Smells that told him he was protected and loved. He rested his head over the steady beating of Oscar’s heart and mumbled, “I don’t want to give up on him, Dad. It’s just…I’m scared that I screwed up so bad, Henry won’t want to fix things.”
“Have you tried talking to him?” Alex shook his head and felt his dad’s chuckle. “Ah, mijo…you may be your momma’s boy, but there’s more than a little of your old man in there too. We always struggled with conversations when something important was on the line.”
That made Alex laugh. It reminded him of how he avoided telling June about how well the meeting with Zahra went when the band was searching for a manager. He felt so nervous because he hated fighting with her. As he stayed in his dad’s embrace, Oscar asked, “You remember that big trip we took to San Antonio the summer before me and your momma split?”
“Yeah? Why?”
Oscar sighed. “Well, the reason we went is because I found a business card in her home office one day. For a divorce lawyer. She kept hinting at wanting to have a Capital-T talk, but I just wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to feel like a failure. So I thought maybe if we took some time and had fun together as a family, then she’d give us one more chance.”
Suddenly, so much about that trip made sense. Everything felt off during that week. Oscar, usually so careful about extravagant spending, began buying over-the-top presents left and right for Alex and June. They went to Six Flags Fiesta Texas, Sea World, and the Natural Bridge Caverns. The siblings even commented on how weird their dad was acting. But for Alex, the weirdest part was Ellen. She was so quiet and stand-offish the entire trip, even electing to stay behind at the hotel when Oscar suggested they spend a day on the River Walk. Now Alex understood why.
“It wasn’t my brightest idea,” Oscar said. “I knew deep down that we were done. Hell, most nights, I was sleeping in the guest room. I just wasn’t ready to let go.”
“What changed?” Alex asked, genuinely curious. It wasn’t a topic he and his dad talked about often.
“You and CJ.” That made Alex pull back and look at his dad. See the shame in his eyes. One corner of his mouth curved in an attempt at a smile. “I could see the effects it was taking on you guys. CJ looked like the weight of the world was on her shoulders, and you walked around the house on eggshells. We were together but suffering in silence.”
“But what does that mean for me and Henry?”
The last thing that Alex wanted was to force something to last. But the truth was that he missed Henry like a part of his body. He missed that toothy smile, the wild bedhead in his face first thing in the morning, the way he felt in the older man’s arms, like nothing else in the world mattered but them. Surely that feeling of rightness couldn’t be negated by one fight, no matter how painful.
Oscar studied him before giving him a crooked smile, saying, “I fought for something that was already over. Giving up hurt, but afterwards, I felt relieved. And our marriage didn’t fail. It just ran its course after we raised our two great kids. Now I might not have met your fella, but CJ and Nora have told me plenty. They showed me pictures and videos of the two of you together. I saw how happy you were with him. I don’t think your story is over yet. You just gotta be willing to fight for it, Alex.”
“Everything okay here?”
Both men looked up to see June standing near the couch. She held a glass of water in one hand, the other cupped and full of pills. As she handed both to Oscar, Alex cleaned off his face and said quickly, “Yeah, totally. Dad was bestowing some pearls of wisdom.”
She gave their dad a cheeky look. “He still has some?”
“Hey!” Oscar said after swallowing the pills. “I am your daddy, and this is my house! Haven’t I earned a little respect from you two shits?”
Alex let his sister take his place and excused himself. He stopped by the kitchen for another beer, getting hugs from Ellen and Keesha as he passed by on his way to the back door. The sky was clear, the air slightly chilly. The usual mild Texas winter weather. He sat down in the deck chair and kicked his feet out in front of him. Muted sounds of other families’ Christmas gatherings carried on the wind. For the first time in ages, Alex felt a little at peace. As he sipped his beer, the back door creaked open. He turned and saw Nora stepping outside, a glass of wine in hand. She took the empty chair next to him, and they sat in comfortable silence.
“I missed you, Alejandro.”
He glanced at his best friend and reached out, letting his bottle clink against her glass. “I missed you too. I’m sorry about worrying you guys.”
“Thank you,” she said. She set her glass on the ground. “So, are we still not talking about You-Know-Who?”
“You can say his name,” Alex said, rolling his eyes. “He’s not Voldemort. You gonna add to Dad’s words of advice? Did June put him up to that?”
“Come on now,” she replied, shaking her head. “Give Oscar a little more credit than that. He’s been worried about you. We all have. Martha reached out after you split, so we knew something bad must have happened for you to disappear without telling anyone.”
“What did she say?”
Nora shrugged and slumped into the chair. “Only what she could get out of Henry. Which, granted, wasn’t much. Apparently, he ran out of his meds and hid it while he tried to get an appointment with someone in England.”
That worried Alex. He didn’t know much about the medications that Henry took, but he was under the impression they were pretty heavy-duty. He chewed on his bottom lip and said, “I didn’t know that.”
“We don’t know much else,” Nora said, “and I promise I’m not out here to pressure you into telling. I just…”
When she didn’t finish her sentence, Alex chanced a look at her. She looked conflicted. Her body language was stiff, as if she were holding something back. He nudged her with his toes, and she straightened up and reached behind her.
“June didn’t want me to do this,” Nora said, pulling out a folded piece of paper, “but I thought you deserved to know.”
Alex frowned. “Know what?”
She traced the edges of the paper with her fingertips. Her eyes fixed on the object in her hands, she asked, “Remember when we visited that cemetery in Paris? And me and June found you two at that one tomb?”
Alex nodded. Nora licked her lips and said, “Henry left a note, and me being me, I might have taken it?”
“Nora!”
“I know, trust me. I know,” she said quickly, reaching up to scratch her neck. “June told me to leave it, but I was curious.”
“Did you read it?”
She didn’t say anything and simply nodded. Alex straightened up and held out his hand. As she handed it over, she said, “I am sorry, Alex. Truly. No excuses, full stop. I planned on giving it to you when the tour was over. I thought it would be something sweet for the two of you to have, a memento of the beginning of your relationship.”
Alex traced his fingers over the paper. It looked like the stationery Henry kept in his office back in New York. His fingers itched to open it, but he held back. This was something he wanted to do without an audience. He looked at Nora and asked, “What does it say?”
“Read it yourself.” She picked up her wine and stood. But before she went back inside, she murmured, “You deserve a love story like me and Junie. And I think the person who wrote that note wants to give it to you. Don’t count yourselves out just yet, Alex.”
Alone again, he looked at the paper in his now trembling fingers. What secrets awaited him? He took a deep, steadying breath before he unfolded it and read:
A Plea to Heloise and Abelard:
Help me believe and trust in love again
Make my heart open wide, from small and hard
Young men have hurt me; lust was not my friend
Doubtlessly, you have heard it all before
All’s fair in love and war, they say, that’s true
Regret stole my time, but not anymore
Lately I have begun with someone new
I see stars and forever in his eyes
Never before have I felt so much joy
Good to his core, from his lips to his thighs
Beautiful, talented, kind-hearted boy.
“Once upon a time,” love stories start
You tell me if I can give him my heart?
By the time Alex finished, he was crying yet again. ‘Tis the season, I guess. He couldn’t believe Henry wrote this way back in Paris, and yet here was the proof. But the longer he sat there, the less surprising this revelation became. He remembered the way Henry looked the morning after their first time together, how incredibly tenderly he held Alex, not wanting to let him go when the singer giggled and insisted he had to get up and get ready for interviews. It was all there, plain as day.
Alex ran his fingers over Henry’s graceful script. The words of his loved ones, of Leo, Oscar, and Nora, returned and swirled over his head. And for the first time since leaving London, Alex let his heart open up to the possibility that they were right. He knew what he needed to do, and he was tired of letting fear hold him back.
The party concluded after the football game ended. As everyone said their goodbyes, Alex hugged Oscar and thanked him for their conversation. The older man responded with a kiss and a request to plan something in the new year, just the two of them. Alex promised they would. Back at his mom’s house, Alex excused himself and went upstairs to his guest room. He sat on the end of the bed, his phone in one hand and Henry’s note in the other.
Here goes nothing.
The device exploded with notifications when he powered it on. Alex ignored them all and went straight to his text messages. Then he tapped on the thread with Henry.
Henry
Where are you?
Alex, this isn’t funny. Answer me. I’m getting scared.
You went back to Austin!?
Darling please pick up. I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! Please talk to me!
Just let me know you’re somewhere safe. Please please please
Is this it? Please. I’m not ready to say goodbye. Not yet. Not like this.
I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry.
That last text was from a week ago. Alex ached at the increasingly frantic tone of Henry’s messages. He spent a few minutes reading texts, not just from Henry but the girls and Henry’s family and close friends. God, he had so much groveling and apologizing to do. Before he let himself get overwhelmed by all that, he went to his emails. Zahra had Ellen’s contact information, so he knew she would have passed along anything related to the band if it were truly important. Mostly, it was junk mail.
One email in particular caught his attention.
It was from Zahra but wasn’t about a request for an interview or a photoshoot. He tapped it and saw that his UK visa had finally been approved. His visa, the idea of collaborating with Bea and Freddie, a surprise for just for Henry. That felt like years ago, back when things felt so certain. He reached up to tug on his key before returning to his text messages and tapping on Bea’s thread.
Alex
hi
Bea
Oh my fuck you bloody wanker! I’ve missed you but what the hell!
How are you?
Alex
yeah sorry bout that. annnnnnnd ive been better
i made a big mess of things in london
Bea
Side effect of being unbearably human, I’m afraid. And as the former champion of messes, I can tell you it can’t be as bad as you think.
Alex
ill have to take your word for it
sooooooooo remember that collab thingy we talked about?
Bea
I do
Alex
been working thru emails and got one from my manager. my visa is all good
is the offer to host me still open?
Bea
I’ll get the guest room ready. When should we expect you?
Alex
after the new year
Bea
Can’t wait
Alex
thnx b
Bea
Don’t thank me yet. In the words of Dezi Arnez, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do.
Alex
i know. see you soon
──── ↺ ⏮ ⏸ ⏭ ↻ ────
London, England
Alex,
I found this buried beneath David’s bed. Perhaps he was watching over it for us? Or I allowed it to be buried in my depression burrowing. The last entry was from Venice, which feels like a lifetime ago, written by someone else.
I’m writing this on New Year’s Eve. We received a surprise arrival from Pez and Echo. Bea and Freddie have been here since Christmas. You’ll be pleased to hear I’ve received no less than three separate lectures/peptalks over the past week. I think Bea was most prepared for a fight with me, so imagine her surprise when I agreed straight away that I’ve been a right knobhead about a great many things recently.
I miss you so much, darling. Your silence hurts more than your anger. But I deserve it. I wish I could tell you to your beautiful face how sorry I am for how I acted. I texted you again last week. It’s all I can do nowadays. Drop bottled text messages into the digital ocean in hopes of one reaching your shores. It feels hopeless, but what else can I do? I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.
I love you even after all the slings and arrows we fired at each other. What was it that Emily Brontë once wrote? Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same. Forgive me for the English major moment. Sometimes, one must borrow from a greater mind to put voice to a feeling so vast.
Your Henry