A PROMISE KEPT

There's a promise I have to keep to my only son. It's a promise that consumes my days and waking thoughts; a promise that can either give me sweet dreams… or horrendous nightmares.

I see him only every Sunday for half a day. I tell my wife I have to go into work, and she doesn't believe me; but she pretends she does, because she is too afraid of the truth. I pick him up from his guardian's house, a tall man glaring at me with one steely eye. 'Don't hurt him,' that gaze says. 'Don't bring him back more damaged than when he left.' I bristle under the weight of his silent accusation, but can't deny that it's true that I have… I have hurt my son before, deeply, by the denial of his existence.

He has the blonde hair and sweet face of his mother. His is a childish beauty, one that makes him appear younger than he really is, and I am grateful because he also acts younger. He skips ahead of me, then back, then grasps my hand to pull me impatiently along.

We drive to a local restaurant and he charms the waitress shamelessly. No one is resistant to his wide brown-eyed gaze and his artlessly happy smile. He fills the room with joy.

I ask him what he has done in the last week, and he burbles happily that Valentine's Day was especially wonderful because of the chocolate he received from a girl, the maid of one of his cousins. "She's soooo nice, Papa," my son says. His eyes sparkle and he bounces slightly in his seat. "And she made my chocolate in rabbit shapes! And she doesn't mind when I hug her, though Kyo and Yuki get so mad!" He laughs in childish glee. "Now I have to plan what to give her for White Day!"

I smile and lean forward, resting my chin on a fist. "Why don't you tell me about her," I suggest. "I may be able to help you with ideas."

He laughs. "Oh, Ha'ri and I all ready know what I'll give her. He helped me plan most of it last night. I just have to plan the rest of it, and how to get Yuki and Kyo to come as well."

Despite myself, pain like a dagger wound strikes my heart. Ha'ri… Hatori Sohma… He's the man I sometimes feel most jealous of, because my son looks to him for guidance and strength when it should have been me. On the nights my sleep is clouded by images of my son after he heard his mother call him a freak, I wish fervently that I could have been strong enough to save him from such pain; to be a shield. But I gave up that role, and Hatori took it up, and now all I have of my son are these Sunday lunches.

"So, what do you have planned?" I hope my tone is casual and not strained. I hope it doesn't betray me.

He beams. "A trip to the hot springs! I don't think she's ever been, and Ha'ri says it'll be a good place to relax, and that he'll make sure Shii-chan doesn't come and cause trouble, and he'll even run interference with Akito so that Yuki won't be bothered on the trip."

It's always Ha'ri this and Ha'ri that. I should be glad that my son has someone so attentive caring for him… but all I am is resentful. "How will you travel?" I ask, desperate to switch the topic off of Hatori.

He strikes a thoughtful pose. "That's what we haven't thought of yet," he admits. "If we get rid of Shii-chan, we can't be driven; and none of us can drive. Ha'ri offered, but he needs to be around for Akito to yell at him. Aya's out because then Yuki wouldn't come, and Kagura's out because then Kyo wouldn't come. Kureno would tell Akito, and Ritsu doesn't know how to drive either… I've thought about asking Kisa's mom, because then Kisa could meet someone new, but then Hiro would want to come. I'm almost out of options!"

"Well," I think it over. "My company has a charter bus you know. You could use it for a few days."

"Ah!" He claps his hands together delightedly. "Wonderful! Thank you very much!"

His enthusiasm makes me smile, and lunch ends all too quickly. On the drive back to Hatori's, he can't stop talking excitedly. I laugh mildly and remark, "This Tohru must be something very special to make you go so out of your way."

He blinks. He's quiet for a very long time, until we have almost reached Hatori's home, and I'm afraid that I somehow mis-stepped myself. I pull into the driveway and stop, turning off the engine and turning worriedly to him. "Momiji—"

"She's the first girl to give me Valentine's chocolate," he says in a small voice. "She thinks I'm cute. She told me my fur was soft. She doesn't think I'm a freak. That's all, really." He has his seatbelt unbuckled and his door open before I can manage to reply. "Bye until next week, Papa," he calls and races to the front door that is already open, that already has a slender shadow waiting in its doorway. He disappears inside.

I drive away, my fingers trembling on the steering wheel. Momiji lives in a different world, far removed from mine. I would not fit in it. Once, maybe. But I gave that up for a woman and a daughter; I gave that up because when my wife called him an abomination of nature, I couldn't help but agree. Perhaps it would be kinder to both of us to end our Sunday lunches. He could pretend his Ha'ri is his father; I could pretend I never had a son.

But I made a promise to him, long ago: to love him enough for both his mother and myself. I made a promise I don't intend to break, no matter the pain.