Chapter 23

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5' 3"

"Are you going to say anything?" Michael Thomson asked in a husky voice. There was a picture of a woman on a gravestone. She had a beaming smile. Her eyes were sparkling with joy. Ethan remembered the day the picture, which had to be put on the gravestone, was taken. It was Audrey's twelfth birthday. She had a whole birthday party with event staff dressed up as princesses and a classical magician with a bunny in his hat. His sister said that she was too grown-up for this kind of activity; and then she spent the rest of the day taking pictures with princesses together with her grown-up friends and getting on the magician's nerves with her questions. The man even taught her an easy trick with a coin.

Ethan was throwing a tantrum since morning, upset that the birthday girl was getting all the attention. He was about to have a classical tantrum again; however, a birthday cake seemed to solve all the problems. In the evening, when all the event staff, Audrey's friends, and the magician had left, Thomson's family sat on the terrace and turned on some 'Tom and Jerry' cartoons while finishing sweet left-overs and helping Audrey unpack the rest of the presents. Ethan got stuck in a sparkling ribbon that was a part of one of the present's decorations, so he ended up in tears after all. Audrey, who was making fun of him the whole day, decided to show some mercy, so she put him on his lap and promised to give him any present he would like. The choice turned to a fashion doll, Ken. Ethan thought that the doll was really beautiful. The mother was watching her kids, choosing not to interfere in their building relationship. She would take part in their fights only when one of them was about to cross the line of hitting the other. Their mother always knew how to cheer them up or put them to the blush with a single word.

Their father took a picture that evening.. He captured the moment with their vintage P&S film camera. He captured the moment of her infinite happiness.

When the dark day came and they had to choose a picture to put on a gravestone, all three of them chose the same photo immediately. There was everything in the picture. Her smile. Her eyes, watching her beloved children. And the father's adoration that you could feel in the picture.

"I miss her," Ethan said, putting a bouquet of camomiles in front of the gravestone. Those were her favorite flowers. Mom would always put bouquets around the house throughout the year. The smell of these flowers was always associated with love and care in Thomson's family.

"Mee, too," his father nodded. Ethan was extremely worried about him. So many years went by, and Thomson-Senior still couldn't imagine himself together with another woman. Ethan thought it was wrong. What would happen if Ethan moved out one day? That thought kept coming back to Thomson. The same thought kept him in the house, even though his father had already hinted that Ethan should've started living on his own. Last night, after father's unexpected 'meeting' with Morgan, he decided to bring the issue up again.

"You're an adult, so you need your personal space," Michael noticed carefully.

"There's so much space in this house, so I'm more than happy with what I already have," Ethan answered.

"Well, so that the thing that happened half an hour ago wouldn't happen again—

"You should've listened to my whole answer before opening the door into my room," Thomson finished the sentence for him. His father probably understood that the son didn't want to leave the house, not because he was scared of adult life or wasn't ready to separate. He didn't want to move out because of Michael.

"What a handsome boy, by the way," the father said matter-of-factly.

"Don't pretend that you didn't know how he looked," Ethan smirked, sure that Duncan had already come over and shown his father everything he had on Morgan. When Thomson noticed Duncan spying on him the other evening, he burst into the house so angry that he almost broke the kitchen door. Michael had to listen to his son's yelling for forty minutes straight.

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