silent because a lump in his throat prevented him from continuing, then he hit against the edge of the mattress to release his frustration.
"You don't have to worry, now it's okay. Let's not talk about it anymore, okay?" James suggested, winking at him. Harry smiled again and looked at the Constellation of Orion painted on the ceiling, made of a special fluorescent yellow paint that made it shine all night. "We will go to Egypt anyway?" He asked them, taking courage. James tried to imagine what would have happened if his son had lost himself in a Casbah or in the middle of one of those neighborhood markets crowded with tourists, and thinking that they probably would have never seen him again he overshadowed. While looking at the brochures stuck between two volumes in the library his heart shrank, then not knowing what to answer he turned to Eve. "Of course we'll go, if I am not wrong we decided that it will be your Christmas present" she confirmed.
"It's fantastic," the boy said enthusiastically. "Thanks" he added, hugging them both with his short, stubby arms.
"But you will have to be very careful and listen to everything we tell you!" Eve pointed out, and Harry nodded.
"You have to promise it" James pointed out.
"I swear on Amon Ra" Harry confirmed solemnly.
" Well. Now we go to sleep because we are destroyed and you will do the same. Do we agree?" Proposed his mother, getting up, James did the same.
"All right," said Harry.
"Goodnight, Professor," James told him, bending down to kiss his forehead.
"Goodnight daddy". Then when James was near the doorway he called him back. James stopped and turned to look at him, Eve passed by and left the room, but stopped in the hall to listen.
"Dad, I haven't told you a lie. I don't remember it, what happened. I woke up suddenly, and..."
"It's okay, I told you don't worry. What matters now is that we are all together again" he assured him. "Sweet dreams kid" he repeated, taking a step forward, but the boy called him once more, forcing him to stop again.
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Dad, what does it mean I have the Down Syndrome?" Harry asked out of blue; James felt his stomach twisting and he cursed the moment he had used that word in his presence, even if unknowingly. He blamed himself for breaking the only taboo of his life and his mind ran back almost sixteen years before, it was a beautiful sunny morning like any other day. Dr. Parker had chosen that sunny morning to tell him that his son had genetic problems and that anomaly, that extra chromosome, would have caused him a "different" life.
He had reported it to him in the clinic, without preparing him at all for the news and without humanity, coldly explaining the fact to him as if he were teaching a normal lesson in a university classroom. At that very moment, James discovered the meaning of the word "hate", because he had hated the doctor for his eternally insensitive manners. He had thought that if someone had pointed out to him that he had just sat on a bomb ready to explode, he would have made that usual unbearable gesture with his hand and replied, "Well, we will see what we can do about it." He remembered how in an instant all the projects he had done on his child had collapsed, at that precise moment he realized that from that moment on their lives would be changed forever.
Since then they would have had to think mainly of blocking the blows because Harry would never have reached full self-sufficiency and probably would have been bullied even starting from the kindergarten. Often James asked God why it had happened to him, almost as for personal offense or spite, he had repeatedly wondered if this was a punishment for something he had done and, if so, for what. But when he picked up Harry for the first time all his doubts and bitterness suddenly vanished and over time he learned that his son was something incredible. Something different, indeed not worse, and so he had made peace with God.
While he was looking for the most suitable words to answer James swallowed a couple of times, he had the impression time was flying. Harry kept staring at him, waiting for an answer, his eyes half-closed and his tongue resting on his lower lip, just a little bit protruding, and he couldn't tell if the question had been asked three seconds or three hours before.
"It means...it means..." he stuttered, unable to finish the sentence.
"It simply means that you are special ... but you already knew that!" Said Eve, returning into the bedroom to help James.
"Now sleep, or this time I'll be the one to get angry!" she added a little bit impatient, tucking him in, then turned off the lamp on the dresser and took James by the arm to drag him out.
James was still under the sheets with his arms folded under his head and peering at the ceiling, he was too tired to sleep and couldn't stop thinking about those nightmarish hours. He heard the television downstairs turning off and his wife slowly coming up the stairs. Eve entered the room, took the clip out of her hair and placed it on the dresser, took up her brush and the nightgown and went to the bathroom without looking at him once. He followed her with his eyes until the bathroom door was closed, only then he slapped with anger the pillow next to him. Eve had stopped changing in front of him for so long, over the years they had almost completely lost their intimacy and confidence and had sex seldom; James could not even remember when it had been the last time. Moreover, she always wanted to have it in the dark, as if she had something to be ashamed of, and James had never liked that. In the end, as in a silent truce, he had stopped looking for her and she had begun to deny herself, without trauma, and James had thought resignedly that it was probably because of their own hormones that they no longer fit.
Suddenly he compared his wife to a Praying Mantis: just as the insect kills his companion after the relationship that serves only to procreate, in the same way, she had killed their relationship after having had Harry. Annoyed by his own thoughts, he snorted and turned on his side in trying to sleep. Eve entered the room continuing to smooth her hair with her fingers untangling a knot. She put the brush on the dresser, mirrored herself one last time and slipped under the sheets. "Goodnight," she said, turning off the light and then turned her back.
"Goodnight?" James said, turning the light back on, Eve gave him a nervous glance. "Why, now what? I'm destroyed and I want to sleep!"
"How can you be so calm? Our son was away for a day and a half, he came back with torn clothes and broken glasses but no a single scratch on him. Furthermore, he does not remember where he was nor what he did for all that time; we have been searching for him by sea and by mountains and there was no single sign of him. Then suddenly, as he had disappeared, he reappeared magically, even so, everything is fine now? As if nothing ever happened? And all you can say is "goodnight"?"
"Why? What do you think we should do now? Do you want to call the FBI to find out what happened? My son has come home and that's enough for me, and let it be enough for you too!"
"I can't!" James murmured, shaking his head. She sighed dejectedly.
"He got probably lost, perhaps he found slept in a barn or a cabin for hunting and spent the night there. And maybe he doesn't want to tell us the truth because he fears our reaction" she strived to say it stretching her arm toward the light switch.
"When he told us he didn't remember anything he wasn't lying!" James insisted.
"How can you be sure of that?"
"You also know that Harry doesn't tell lies! And in any case, this fact changes everything, we will have to review the margin of trust and freedom that we can grant him! This is a big step backward" he concluded dismayed.
"How
