Alex by Adam J Nicolai Page B

next to his son's.   Edward Jameson, missing since September.   And next to that, Silvia Kalen, missing since April.   There were three more on the other side.
    He remembered, all at once, how bleak it had felt to see his son's face on that piece of paper for the first time.    
    The boy was dead now, but Ian still had to endure his picture -
    He grabbed the mailer and punched out the number on it.   A live voice answered.
    "Hi, I just received your mailer.   It shows a picture of Alex Colmes.   I'm his father.   He died six months ago.   Please take his picture off."
    The voice said he'd look into it.
    "Please do.   Please.   I can't keep seeing his face every time I come home and get the mail.   There's been some kind of mistake."
    Of course.   The voice assured him if there was a mistake, they would fix it.  
    Ian hung up.
    37

 
    He went to the counseling session Wednesday night.   He didn't see Alina outside, but when he got to the gym she was there, sitting in the same place as last week, her coat on her lap.
    The group talked mostly about their feelings for their kids that night: how much they loved them, how much they missed them, how much their lives had been changed by them.   He spoke when Shauna dragged something out of him, but kept his tongue the rest of the time.   He didn't want to piss Alina off again, but more than that...
    "Love" was not a strong enough word to describe how he felt about his son.   "Miss" didn't begin to describe the hole the boy's murder had left in his life.   He couldn't talk about those ideas like they were just words.   They were too much more than that.
    "I didn't even know there was a feeling like this," Ian had told Alina one night as he held the sleeping baby.   Alex's heartbeat was warm and trembling against Ian's chest.   "I don't just love him.   I've fallen for him.   I'm infatuated.   I mean, you know... it's platonic, obviously.   But it's more like when I fell in love with you, than anything."   His effort to explain himself was pathetically inarticulate, but Alina had smiled at him anyway.  
    She understood.
    He thought about trying to explain that feeling to this group, and rejected the idea.   Sometimes that moment felt so close, he could still imagine the warmth of Alex's weight on his chest.   But those times were getting further and further between, and tonight, while he still loved his son, he was angry with him, too.   Angry, and scared.
    Whether intentionally or unintentionally, the boy he loved so much was driving him mad.  
    After the session, Alina turned away to put her coat on.   He thought she was going to leave without speaking, but she touched his arm as they stepped into the parking lot.  
    "You were quiet tonight."
    Being quiet is wrong.   Saying what I think is wrong.   What the fuck do you want me to do?   But her eyes weren't accusing.   Maybe she hadn't meant it that way.
    "I think... sometimes, it helps just to listen."
    She nodded.   Her face was gentle.   "I can understand that."
    "You can?"
    "Yeah."
    "Listen, I'm sorry about last week.   I didn't mean to go off on Shauna."
    "You should give her a chance, Ian.   She's not as bad as you think."
    "Yeah.   I'll try.   I'm just... I don't know, ever since... they found him, I'm just so angry all the time.
    " All the time ."
    Her face was unreadable.   "I know."
    He had forced her out.   She said it when she left: "I can't breathe in this fucking house anymore."   Of course she knew.  
    "I don't mean to be.   I'm trying... I just don't know what to do."
    She touched his face.   "Thank you for trying.   It means a lot."
    He remembered her being at home, smiling at him when he came in, making furious, quiet love to him in the dark so they wouldn't wake their son.   I need you, he wanted to say.   I still love you, and I need you back.  
    Then he thought: If you're at home, Alex won't be.   It cheapened the urgency of his desire, turned her into a