Countdown
MITCHELL
The morning I was set to meet Winona for the first time in a week, I finished my book.
I actually fucking finished the thing.
Winona was the first person I wanted to tell. She would be, but I’d promised myself I’d leave her alone until tonight.
Instead, I stood up, reaching for the little slip of paper tacked up above my desk.
The day I left for college, Mom presented me with a check for eight thousand dollars. “It’s not nearly enough,” she told me. “But I’ve been saving since you were little.”
Dad had snorted “That’s not going to make a dent in the city.”
He hadn’t contributed at all, of course. Mom had worked a part-time job at the fabric shop for extra pocket money for as long as we could remember, even though Dad made good money, because he was so stingy with anything more than the basics.I pay all the goddamned bills. He did keep us housed and fed. But extras were for him and him alone.
I’d gotten a full ride to school. I didn’t need the moneyand Mom knew it. But I took the check. Because Mom had waited 17 years for this moment. She’d put hearts on the memo line and writtenFor my son Mitchell’s wildest dreams.She’d done the same for Blake and Conrad.
“I’ll use it to live off when I write my first book,” I told her, knowing full well talking about writing a book would make my father say something shitty.
On cue, Dad said, “Might as well flush it down the can right now.”
“It’ll happen,” I promised Mom.
She’d smiled, her eyes glassy with tears. “I believe you,” she whispered when she hugged me.
Over the years Dad would ask me about the book, not out of interest but to laugh about it. Like the dream I’d had since hiding under the blankets with books as a kid was some big, hilarious joke.
The check had stayed folded in my wallet until I’d come to Quince Valley. It had long since expired, and I’d had the money moved to a holding account in Mom’s name. But the piece of paper meant everything.
I held it now, tracing my finger over Mom’s handwriting.
I’d tell her when I got back. It wouldn’t mean anything to her now, of course. But maybe some part of her mind would hear I’d fulfilled my promise. Maybe a little part of her would still be proud. I’d tell her the reason I finally finished was because of Winona. A woman whose scent I breathed each night as I fell asleep. A woman I wanted to tell my most vulnerable secrets to—and cradle hers in my hand—and a woman I wanted to…
I cut myself off before I devolved into not mom-friendly thoughts, setting the check down onto the pages of the manuscript.
I should have felt spent, but instead I wasfilled with an energy I couldn’t remember having since those nights in college when I stayed up for days at a time building the beginnings of LoupTeq. I felt superhuman then, just like I did now.
And tonight I was seeing Winona. It was quite possibly the best day of my fucking life.
“Are you going to tell me about her?” Sal asked on the phone as I headed into the house a short time later. It was time to shower and shave and get dressed so I looked my fucking best. For Winona I wanted to always be at my best.
“You know who she is.” I headed for my closet, thinking about what suit I was going to wear. Would I really want to wear a suit for what I had planned? Later, maybe. Definitely.
“I know it’s the plumber,” Sal said. “I know her name and address and telephone number. But you haven’t informed me of any personal details.”
Sal was like a supercomputer in human form. We’d met in college, when she’d walked up to me in a computer lab and said, verbatim, “My name is Salima Zhang. You’re going places, but you need my help.” She’d been right, and I’d had zero regrets.
“Why do you want to know?” I asked, heading up the stairs. Sal had never cared about any relationships I’d had before. Not that this was a relationship, exactly.
My chest tweaked at that. Is that what I wanted here? I filed that thought away.
“I’ve never heard you talk about anyone the way you talk about Winona.”
“I don’t talk about her.”
“Yes, you do. You drop her into every conversation.” Sal didn’t sound annoyed like she normally did when I was distracted. She sounded... Soft.
