“Yeah,” he says with a smile. On the sidewalk there are toothbrushes and tiny bottles of mouthwash, a few boxes of Band-Aids, and even a couple pairs of socks. “I’ll bring more next time, but I was just excited to get started.”
“How did you know…”
He shrugs. “You’re always talking about what sorts of things they need here.”
“You were listening?” I ask with such astonishment that he laughs. But I can’t believe it. I stare at the toiletries littered across the sidewalk. All this time, I’ve been underestimating him. All this time, I just assumed he wasn’t paying attention.
“I brought some cash too,” he says, patting his back pocket, where he stuck his wallet after stopping at the ATM. “I know it’s not enough, but I figure we have to start somewhere, right?”
I nod, still stunned. “Right.”
“So?” he says, bending to pick up the bag, then glancing in the direction of the church. “You ready?”
I surprise myself by reaching out and taking his other hand. But I can’t help it; he looks so hopeful right now, so earnest. I smile at him, and he smiles at me, and we stand there like that for a long moment. Then I nod, and together we make our way across the lawn, dazed and happy and eager to share our good fortune.
It’s strange to see the apartment coming undone after so many years.
There are cardboard boxes everywhere, full of stacks of yellowing books, and dishes wrapped in newspaper, and piles of poorly folded clothes. On the walls, bright blue squares have replaced the many photos of Teddy, and below those the dust bunnies have come out of hiding, drifting across the wooden floors like miniature tumbleweeds.
I’m supposed to be packing a shelf full of framed photos, but I keep pausing to look around, astonished to see this place—which has always been so familiar, a second home of sorts—looking so completely different.
“Change is good,” Teddy says, winking as he walks by with a box in his arms. He makes it a few steps past me, then backpedals until we’re face-to-face and leans in to give me a quick kiss.
From across the room, Leo rolls his eyes.
But we’re getting used to this now and it’s easy to ignore him.
“Thanks,” I say to Teddy, who gives me a lingering look, the kind that makes my heart beat too fast, then readjusts the box in his arms and heads off to stack it near the door.
Change is good,I think, testing the words, letting them roll around in my head like a pinball. Then I think it again, more forcefully this time:Change is good.
But I’m not quite there yet. Maybe I never will be. It’s hard to imagine going through life convinced that all change is for the better. Too much has happened to me for that kind of optimism, that type of blind faith. But I’m trying.
Changecan begood,I think, which feels closer to the truth.
The door swings open and Katherine walks in, shuffling through a pile of envelopes. “Mrs. Donohue’s been hoarding our mail again,” she says as she sets it on the counter. When Teddy reaches for one of the letters, there’s a faint rattle. He tears it open and three green Skittles fall into his hand.
I laugh, surprised at the sight. But Teddy only stares at them.
“What are those?” Katherine asks, her face a picture of confusion.
“Skittles,” he says. “Green ones.”
She frowns. “I don’t get it.”
“Greens are good,” he says, looking up at us with a smile.
“But what does that—”
“They’re from Dad,” he says, and just like that she seems to understand. Nobody says anything; we’re all looking at the candy in Teddy’s palm as if it might hold some kind of answer. And for him I can tell it does. It’s not much, but it’s something: a sign that his dad is trying, that perhaps he’ll even be okay. That they both will.
I think of the receipt I saw on Teddy’s desk the other day for a donation to Gamblers Anonymous, and how hard it must be when the one person you most want to help in the world has no choice but to help himself. All you can do is wait. And hope.
But for now, green is good. And that’s a start.
Teddy tips the pieces back into the envelope. Then he walks over to a box markedMemoriesand tucks it inside.
Katherine glances down at her phone when it starts to buzz. “Shoot,” she says. “I’m supposed to be meeting with the contractor now. We’re picking out cabinets today.”
