“What’s obvious?”
“That you love each other.” He said it flatly, like he was stating a chemical equation. “We all know it, which frankly is exceedingly frustrating.”
Madison nodded enthusiastically. “See? Robbie knows.”
“Robbie,” I said carefully, “you don’t know what you’re talking about. Grady and I are friends. Anyway, he doesn’t feel that way about me.”
“You are incorrect, Mother.” He looked up, his expression matter-of-fact. “He told me.”
Everything stopped. The sauce kept bubbling and the water kept boiling but I couldn’t move.
“What did Grady tell you?” I asked. “Tell me exactly.”
He sighed and closed his chemistry book. “When Madison was in surgery, we were talking and I asked him point-blank if he was in love with you.”
I gripped the edge of the counter. “You—what?”
“I asked him if he loved you. And he said yes.” Robbie picked up his pencil again. “I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you. He wanted to tell you himself. So if you could just pretend I didn’t say anything when he finally confesses, I would appreciate it. Idonotwant to start a relationship with my new stepfather on hostile terms.”
“I can’t believe you asked him …” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “Do you think he meant romantically? Because I know he loves me as a friend.”
“Mother, really, this is tiresome,” Robbie said. “You’re smarter than this.”
I felt light-headed. Could it be true? He shared my feelings?
“He was a wreck while you were on the date with @KidDoc,” Robbie said. “It was almost sad.”
“A wreck how?” Madison asked.
“You had to be there,” Robbie said. “But he was fidgeting and looking at the clock every few minutes. He did not say this, but I don’t believe he heard a word of the documentary we were watching. Love does terrible things to a man’s brain.”
“Are you sure about this?” I asked. “Because this is very important to me.”
“I’m sure,” Robbie said.
The room seemed fuzzy, like I was watching everything through a cheesecloth. I set aside the wooden spoon and stumbled over to take a glass out of the cupboard, then filled it with water from the pitcher I kept in the fridge. My mouth was so dry my lips stuck together as I lifted the glass to take a drink.
Madison watched me, crayon frozen in mid-air. “Mommy? Are you okay?”
I turned back to the stove. The sauce was starting to burn, so I hastily turned off the heat. “I’m fine.” My voice sounded strange. Far away.
“You look kind of wobbly,” Madison said.
I was kind of wobbly.
Grady loved me.
I stared down at the fragrant sauce, trying to figure what I was supposed to do with it. Sauce onto pasta. That was the next step.
“Mom?” Madison asked. “Is the spaghetti ready?”
“Yes, it’s ready,” I managed. “Go wash your hands. Both of you. I’ll serve it up.”
They scrambled off to the bathroom. I heard the water running and their voices muffled through the wall.
I stood there alone in the kitchen, hand pressed to my chest, trying to breathe.
I layin bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. I rolled onto my side, pulling the quilt up to my chin. The apartment was cold tonight, with October leaking in through the old windows. I would have adjusted the thermostat but the bill had been so high last winter I didn’t dare.
