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Alice
‘But why did we have to leave Thomas’s house?’ Mary’s eyes implore me from across the large table in the brightly lit kitchen of the new apartment.
Besides Thomas’s house, I’ve never lived somewhere so nice. Thankfully the homeowner fees were part of the contract. Leslie made sure of that.
The apartment door opens into small foyer with a closet, before transitioning into a living room to the right and a kitchen on the left, both sharing an entire wall of windows. With two bedrooms opposite the living room wall, each with their own bathroom.
Even the building itself is charming. Brown brick with black trim on a quiet road.
Outside, a car honks.
Well, quiet for New York City.
‘I told you, there was an accident. Thomas and I aren’t really married.’
Mary hadn’t said much when we left Thomas’s yesterday. She’d been playing dress up with Mike when I got home and talked with Emily, so thankfully she doesn’t know the details. But now, after the sleepover adventure at a new apartment is over, she has questions.
‘So?’ Mary pokes at her pancakes, for once completely uninterested in the overload of chocolate chips that I’d hoped would lift her spirits. ‘Mom lived with Jack and they weren’t married.’
I pause, my coffee mug halfway to my lips at Mary’s first mention of her mother. ‘Um, yes. She did.’ I haven’t brought up the fact that I know where she is, too worried to disappoint her if… well, if something doesn’t go right. ‘Do you want to talk about your mom?’
She shrugs and pokes her pancakes some more. ‘She left.’
I take a sip of coffee, trying to feel my way through what to say next. ‘Do you miss her?’
‘Not really.’
I wonder if that’s true or just something she’s told herself. I make child counseling a priority in my ever-growing list that involves job searching, home schooling and getting the courage to go visit Kayla.
Thomas’s lawyer gave me his card, telling me to call him if I needed anything. He seemed quite troubled about how everything played out and a little too infatuated with Leslie after their too long, hashed-out phone call.
I should’ve called Leslie sooner. I should’ve done a lot of things. And not done some others.
Mary lowers her fork to the table. ‘Does that make me a bad kid?’
‘No.’ My coffee mugs lands hard on the table. ‘You could never be a bad kid.’
‘Are you sure?’
I get up to drop to my knees in front of her, pulling her into a hug. ‘Positive.’
We hug a minute, and I wait for more questions. But only one comes.
‘Can Queenie come play?’
* * *
Alice
The ferry ride over was cold even though I sat inside. I blame it for the chill I can’t seem to shake as I sit on Kayla’s apartment stoop, waiting.
When I called Emily on Mary’s behalf for a play date, she was more than happy to come over. Elated even. And happy to watch Mary so I could make my way over to Staten Island.
After twenty minutes with only my burning anxiety keeping me warm, I spot Kayla walking toward me. She’s talking on her phone, holding her nails out under the sun as if inspecting them.
Like a normal twenty-six-year-old without a care in the world.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy. The time I spent researching rehabilitation centers seems a waste. My worrying a waste.
