My eyes water. I tremble. “It’s my mom’s friend…” I struggle to get it out, my throat closing against my words.
Jack takes my phone and reads.
Penelope, it’s Monica. Your mom is on her way to the hospital.
“I— I need to go.” I snatch my phone back and race around my apartment, grabbing things to throw into my handbag. I check my phone. Lyft and Uber will cost hundreds, but I don’t have time for the bus.
“What are you doing? How are you getting to— Where is it you’re going?”
“Stone Harbor. About three hours from here. God, I—”
He covers my shaking hand. “I have a car. I’ll take you.”
I look up at him, his face distorted by the wash of tears I’m trying not to let fall.
He runs to his apartment to load up an overnight bag as I lock up. I don’t even recall rushing down to the lobby or getting into the taxi Jack hails. But as we pull away from the curb, for the first time in many minutes I think of something other than my nagging worry.
“I thought you had a car?”
He gives the driver an address and sits back. “Parking lot is near the river. Too expensive to keep the car here.”
I type furiously on my phone, texting Monica back in the hope that she can provide some more details.
A short time later, we’re in Jack’s car and speeding over the George Washington Bridge. I watch as the bridge lights blur into a river of white, and I tell myself it’ll be okay. But I feel like crawling out of my skin.
Jack breaks the silence. “You okay?”
I settle back against the leather seat and look over at his profile, at the lights sliding along the hard angles of his face. “I’m…okay. Thank you. For taking me. I— She’s always complaining about how often she sees me.” My voice hitches a little. The regret is an anchor tied to my neck, weighing my head down.
“I think all moms do that.”
I turn to stare out the window some more.
“My mom talked a good game about looking forward to peace and quiet when we left for college, but she definitely shed more than a few tears when it finally happened,” he says, shifting gears.
My chest hollows. “Mom never wanted me to leave at all. She got married and knocked up young, spent her life pandering to my dad, and then decided she’d get a second chance at life by living vicariously through me.” My therapy-sourced realizations are out before I can control my mouth.
His voice is quiet, even in the hushed, dark confines of his car. “Why wouldn’t she want you to leave if she’s living vicariously through you?”
There’s a faint hum in my ears—an echo of guilt and freedom ringing in my chest. “Because she didn’t regret all of her life decisions. Just some. Staying in Stone Harbor from cradle to grave is cool with her, so it has to be for me. It’s why I love my apartment so much. Going away for college was something she tolerated. Moving to my place… It was like cutting the cord. She… She loves me, but she’s a control freak.” Speaking the words aloud is like crossing a bridge that crumbles behind me. I sigh and shift to face him more fully.
Jack glances at me, and I analyze him as objectively as I can. I don’t know how I pegged him for a villain. That seems so far away now. He may look like a sexy pirate, with his rumpled dark hair and sharply intelligent light eyes—well,eye, thanks to the patch—but he doesn’t have the requisite uncaring and selfish streak to pull it off. He’s a sleeper hero. He was all along.
“See anything you like?” he says, his voice a warm rumble in my stomach. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I’m sorry. About your eye, I mean. You look like a pirate.”
“If I were a pirate, I would’ve already claimed that booty.” He scowls. “What? Why are you laughing?”
I groan, but he’s managed to break up a little of the oppressive cloud hanging over my head. “Come on, man. You’re better than that.”
“Let the record reflect, your honor, that that terrible joke was intentionally offered up to get a smile out of you. A sacrifice pop fly to advance my base runner to second.”
“Well, you play ball like the Mets.”
“You shut your pretty mouth,” he says. His lips curve, the dimples popping in and out of view with the passing streetlights.
“So you’ve heard tons about me. About my family,” I say. “Distract me. Tell me about yours.” Ineedthe distraction. Not only from this clawing worry… I need to break this spell he’s cast over me. I don’t trust it.
