“I’d suffer through it so Mom can have her big day.”
Her generosity floors me. I throw my arms around her, absorb the warmth and goodness of her. “I wonder where you came from, little one. I know you look like me but you’re far too good to be related to this dummy.”
She sniffs and smiles into my neck. “I just turned up.”
“Sorry I stink.” In all the ways.
“I like this smell, when you’ve just come home. It makes me proud of you.”
I close my eyes, gratitude that I have this special being in my life flowing through me.
“You want to go to New York for the wedding, we’ll make it happen.”
She lifts her head. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
But I’ll be talking to Tori about how it’s going to go down. I’m not looking forward to it, but if it makes my girl happy, I’ll walk through that fire.
Twenty-three
Abby
It’s my day off. I’ve already hit the climbing wall at First Ascent in Uptown, laundry is in the dryer, the Roomba is doing its thing, and the sun is shining its ass off. (Not that the great outdoors is calling my name or anything, but a sunny spring day, even spent inside, has a distinctly cheering effect.) I’m catching up on Season 3 of Sex Education and wishing I could carry off Gillian Anderson’s style or have as much sex as the show’s “teenagers” when a text comes in.
Hi Abby, it’s Chiara, Roman’s sister. I have a favor to ask. Could you call me?
I hit dial. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Oh, thank God you’re there. Alex gave me your number. Are you busy right now?”
I pull a potato chip out of my cleavage. “Not terribly.”
“Could you pick up Lena from school? I got held up at this stupid meeting at work.”
“Sure, but where’s Roman?” We have the same days off.
“He’s instructing at the firefighter academy today.”
Oh, I didn’t know that, but then he’s not obliged to tell me anything.
“Will he be okay with me doing this?”
“Why wouldn’t he be? You’re a trusted member of his crew and you live close by.”
“Gage not around?”
She laughs. “Yeah, I tried him and Brady first but they’re not picking up. Probably having sex.”
Well, thanks for that lovely visual. “Of course I’ll do it. I just don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”
“As if you could. Lena thinks you’re really cool! Look, I have to head back to this meeting. Lena gets out at 3:15.”
I check the time. It’s 3:10. “I’d better get going.”
“Yep! I’ll text her and call the school to say you’re on the way. Thanks. Byeee!”
Okay, then.
Seven minutes later I’m waiting outside Sacred Heart School on Sheridan as the kids flood by me in a river of navy and white uniforms. I spot Lena, who raises a hand in greeting.
“Hey, you, how’s it going?”
“Good.” Puzzled, she’s clearly wondering why I’ve been chosen for this monumental task.
I launch into an explanation. “I live in the neighborhood so I could get here the fastest. Your aunt really thought she’d make it.”
She walks alongside me. “I could have made it home by myself. Or gone with my friend.” She waves at another girl, getting in a car. “That’s Milly. She lives in Rogers Park.”
“I guess you could have, but here we are. It’s just a couple of blocks.”
I let her take the lead because I realize I don’t actually know where Roman lives. On the way, we chat about her favorite subjects—history and English—her favorite video game—“Super Mario 3D All Stars”—and her favorite candy—peach Kit Kats. (A friend sends them from Japan.)
We reach the door to a nice-looking duplex on Greenview. It’s closer than I thought, about three blocks from me. All this time, he’s been practically my next-door neighbor.
“Are you coming in?” she asks. “We have pizza.”
Chiara had already texted to say I should stay until a responsible adult returns so this is moot. All the same, I maintain the illusion that the kid has a choice here. “I love pizza.”
“Everybody does.”
Once inside, she sits at the kitchen table and I join her as she pulls cold pizza from a box. Within a couple of minutes, temporary tattoo sheets have made an appearance and we spend some time choosing. (Well, Lena does. I’m clearly not qualified to be anything but a blank canvas.) While she lays on the first one, she asks in a very young voice, “Do you miss your mom?”
The question takes my breath away. Only a child can ask it in such stark, unrelenting terms.
“All the time. How about you?”
“She’s not dead. I mean …” She colors. “She’s still around. She’s getting married soon. Dad’s letting me go but he doesn’t really want me to.”
Roman changed his mind about Lena attending her mom’s nuptials? I wonder if that has anything to do with our conversation earlier this week.
“It’s probably a bit awkward for him.”
“He doesn’t still love her.”
Good to hear, though I shouldn’t have an opinion on that at all. “Still, might be awkward. He’s probably worried about you traveling to another city.”
“That’s not it. It’s because he worries Mom will get mad at me because I don’t usually like to dress up.” She picks out another tattoo—it looks like a dragon with sun rays around its head. “My parents used to fight about me all the time. About how I didn’t wear dresses or how I did my hair.”
Her hair is short, feathered over her temples and hanging over her left eye. She always looks super cute.
“If you don’t want to wear a dress, who cares?”
She raises a knowing eyebrow, just like her dad’s. “That’s what Dad would say, but Mom said they weren’t raising a boy. Dad would then tell her she wasn’t raising anyone. Which would get them fighting again.” Her nose twitches. “All their fights were about me.”
I take the tattoo sheet from her and scan it. “You might think that, but believe me, the fights were about other things that had nothing to do with you. They probably didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of stuff, and that’s what you remember because you assume you’re the center of the universe. Like we all do.”
That pulls a Roman-like grin from her and my heart catches. “That’s what Dad says. ‘Copernicus called. You’re not the center of the universe.’”
“Cute.” I recall Roman mentioning that was one of his mom’s sayings, and my heart yearns for that simpler time when my mouth was full of pie and sex with a hot guy was in my future. “So I’m going to take this one, if that’s okay.” I hold up one that has an egg-shaped robot vibe to it. “It looks like Zingbot from Big Brother.”
“You watch Big Brother?”
“Yep, never miss it. You?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Dad thinks I’m not old enough to watch it but Mom and Aunt Chiara let me. Chiara applied to go on it. I think she would have been really good.”