Good Harbor

After dinner, Hal pulled a thin bottle from the refrigerator. “My newest discovery. Dessert wine.” He poured the gold-colored liquor and Kathleen wet her lips. “It’s sweet!” she said. “I love it.”

“I knew you would. And I brought you a few books I think you’ll like.”

“I’m sure I will,” she said, beaming. Hal may look like Buddy, she thought, but he took after her in temperament and interests.

As Buddy started on the dishes, Hal suggested a walk, and he and Kathleen set out down the block.

Kathleen told Hal about Joyce, and how much she wanted them to meet. “She’s been so great through all this.”

It was the first time she had volunteered any information about her illness or treatment to Hal. “Your father has been wonderful, too,” she added quickly.

“I know. But some things are easier to talk to friends about.”

“I suppose,” she said, wishing it weren’t quite so true, wishing she could ask Hal about his life in a way that wouldn’t seem like prying. Instead she said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.”

They stopped at the spot overlooking the water, between the Craddocks’ and the Longs’ houses. Kathleen realized it was the same spot where she had stood early in the morning before her first appointment with Dr. Truman. That felt like years ago, but it had been only fifteen weeks.

Hal watched his mother’s face as she counted the weeks. “Mom, I think you’re depressed.”

Kathleen patted his arm.

“I mean clinically. I think you should see someone.”

“Oh, Hal, it’s not that bad.”

“No, really. It’s important. It’s all connected to what’s going on with you physically. I go.”

“You go where?”

“To see a therapist. It’s been very good for me.”

Kathleen stared.

“Mom? You knew about the therapy, didn’t you?”

“Why would I know?”

“Well, I assumed Dad told you.”

“He didn’t say anything to me.” She didn’t know anything about her son anymore. Or about her husband.

“It’s helped me work out a lot of issues, not only about work, but about, you know, the family and” — he paused, choosing his words — “how, uh, losing someone sets you apart, especially as a child.”

Kathleen said nothing.

“Mom?”

She was stunned, not so much by Hal’s revelation, but by the sudden rush of shame it called up in her. What had he told his therapist? Why was her grandmother’s disapproving voice so loud inside her head? And how could she begin to talk to him about Danny now? They had never had a real conversation about what had happened. Hal was still hurting. And she was still unable to comfort him.

“Mom?”

“Hal, I need to go back. I’m tired. And no more medical advice from you. Please.”

Hal lowered his head — just the way Buddy did when he was angry — and turned back, starting at a pace that was a little too fast for her. He relented after a few steps, and she took his arm, squeezing it gratefully.

“Nice walk?” Buddy asked as they walked into the kitchen. Hal made a beeline for the bathroom.