Everything Changes

once again, seems indicative of an inherent defect of the soul that goes much deeper than pathological irresponsibility. And, oddly enough, that very realization seems to facilitate a new acceptance, a willingness to meet him on his terms. At some point I’ll have to discuss all of this with Henry, try to help him understand his father in as painless a way as possible, but that point is not now. He’s nowhere near ready, and I know I’m not, either. But I’m hoping that perhaps, without the burden of expectations, Henry can grow to feel good about Norm, maybe even get to know him a little. And, I guess, maybe I can too.
    But as I crawl into bed, my limbs deliciously weary from the past few hours with Tamara, I consider another, equally likely possibility, that someday in the not-too-distant future, the phone will ring, and it will be a police officer, maybe a Florida state trooper, calling to tell me that they found Norm dead in his room in some low-rent efficiency hotel in a crummy neighborhood, that his heart gave out while he slept, and I’ll think bitterly, at that moment, that it served him right, that there was no other end for him but to die alone. But I know that somewhere in me will be the grief, already forming now, that every son has for his father, and I hope I’m smart enough by then to give voice to it and let it be heard, if not for my sake, then for Henry’s.
    And here comes Henry, like clockwork, tearing down the stairs, Thomas train gripped, as always, in his right hand, his frightened wail shattering the quiet stillness of our house, waking me up from the sleep I didn’t even realize I’d slipped into. I sit up in my bed, arms open wide, and he performs a running leap, clearing the top of the bed to land squarely at my side, his arms flying around my neck even as the sobs wrack his body. And as much as I want him to get over this, I also know I’m thrilled to be the one he seeks out in his dread, the lone person who can right his world. I feel love in places I never knew existed within me. I hold him tightly, rocking back and forth as my whispered assurances gradually penetrate the somnambulant haze of his nightmare. Once he’s calmed down, he kisses my cheek and curls up beside me under the comforter, nestling his butt against my chest like a sleeping puppy as I sing to him.
    Good night, sweet baby, good night
    I’m right here to watch over you
    And the moon, stars, and I
    And this old lullaby
    Will make all your sweet dreams come true
    I’m still not sure what I want for myself, but I know what I want for Henry, and that will be my guide. I will love him, and I will love Tamara and Sophie, and it occurs to me, as Henry snuggles easily against me, that there are better things than plans upon which to build your life, and by some miracle, in my flailing about, I seem to have stumbled upon them. Tomorrow I’ll start looking for a place in Riverdale, close enough so that Lela can help out with the babysitting as my work schedule fills up. There will be schooling to determine, legalities of guardianship to address, and no doubt a host of complications I have yet to discover. The future is suddenly terrifyingly and magnificently uncertain, but tonight, as I lie fully awake in the dark, there is only now, the sound of Henry’s slow, even breaths filling the room, and the electrified beating of my own racing heart.

a cognizant original v5 release october 10 2010
    About the Author
    JONATHAN TROPPER lives with his wife and two children in Westchester, New York. He is the author of two previous novels,
Plan B
and
The Book of Joe,
which is currently being developed as a motion picture by Warner Bros. Studios.
Everything Changes
is currently in development at Sony Pictures. Jonathan can be contacted through his website at www.jonathantropper.com .

EVERYTHING CHANGES
    A Delacorte Book / April 2005
    Published by
    Bantam Dell
    A Division of Random House, Inc.
    New York, New York
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
    All rights reserved
    Copyright © 2005 by Jonathan Tropper
    Delacorte Press is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
    Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
    Tropper, Jonathan.
    Everything changes/Jonathan