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She ruffles my hair, before reaching for my hand. Her nails are painted bright red. They’ve never been painted before, not that I can remember. She’s been dressing differently too. Before it was always big sweaters and cotton pants or jeans, or skirts and dresses that went down to her ankles if we had to dress fancy for something.
Today she has a black dress on with red and pink roses all over it that stops right above her knees, swishing with the breeze brought on by the passing cars, and red flip flops that match her nails and the flowers on her dress.
Even her hair’s different. She cut it to her shoulders just before we left New York. It’s all full and silky and wavy now.
And around her throat, she’s wearing a black necklace with a silver heart hanging from it.
I wonder what happened to the gold chain one with the cross.
I wonder what happened to her wedding ring too.
She gives my hand a squeeze, hers so much bigger than mine. Softer too. Warm. “Well, silly, because how could anyone ever not want to be your friend?”
I scowl at that, even though I feel all hot around my neck.
“You’re the coolest kid I know.”
I’m not though.
I like comic books. Superheroes. It’s the one thing Dad used to give me crap about sometimes when Momma wasn’t around, and his words were runnin’ altogether, and there was that weird metal smell on him. He’d say that stuff’s only for kids. For losers. But then he’d also say I’d grow out of it, and ruffle my hair, so I guess he didn’t care that much… yet… as long as I stopped playing with my action figures. Or dolls, as he would call them. Those were a big no-no.
I frown, rememberin’.
That made me mad.
Sad too.
I was worried he’d take them, throw them out, like he did with my teddy bear when he found me sleepin’ with it once.
“You’re in kindergarten now. This is for babies,” he’d said. I never saw my bear again.
So I hid them—my superheroes—kept ’em all safe in my closet, hidden inside a bunch of folded clothes, since Momma was the only one who’d see them when she went in there to put away laundry. She’d always smile and wink at me when she found them. It was our little secret.
Now I can take them out and play with them whenever I want…
“Mason?”
Sniffing, I look up at Momma. I didn’t realize we stopped walking. The sun’s peeking out over the trees, making her head all dark and fuzzy around the edges, so I have to squint.
“I have a really good feeling about this,” she tells me in a quiet, very serious tone. Like maybe she’s done trying to pretend like everything’s actually okay.
“How do you know?” I ask her.
She tweaks my nose, and she tells me, “Moms always know.”
We continue walking, having to pass right under the bridge, through one of the dark, looming arches, just like when driving through. It’s even scarier like this…
So tall, it touches the sky, disappearing into the gray clouds.
“Are there trains?” I ask, tipping my head all the way back to see the top. My voice echoes, bouncing off the concrete wall. Wind rushes through, blowing our hair around, and makin’ my ears feel all thick and weird.
“No, they don’t come this way anymore,” Momma says loud enough for me to hear her.
“Why not?” I ask when we reach the other side, and it no longer feels like someone’s coverin’ my ears real hard.
“They don’t have a reason to, I guess. There are more roads now. More towns close by… It just…happens.”
It’s busier on this side of the bridge, with more buildings pressed together, and cars driving back and forth. I wish I didn’t have to hold Momma’s hand. But I know it’s the rules when she takes me for walks—to make sure I don’t get hit by a car—so even though I’m still mad, I don’t put up a fight about it.
