“It’s true,” I nodded along with the lie Dwayne had become accustomed to dropping whenever one of the customers got overzealous.
“Too bad,” the man replied, his eyes sweeping over my frame that in no way moved me or made my heart pitter or patter.
I feared that patter had been permanently lost to a certain bearded biker I’d left back in Hawthorne over a year ago.
“Anything else?” I pressed, looking deliberately at their glasses and plates full of food.
“We’re good,” one of the other men nodded, allowing me to sweep off to my next table.
By the time my shift ended, I was exhausted as always. I gathered my things and headed out, waving to Dwayne and the cooks as I left.
The humid air of the Texan evening hit me like a wet blanket. After nearly a year in the south, I still wasn’t used to the humidity. It was even worse than my native New York, if that was possible.
Living in Texas was still so foreign to me. Everything was so big and overdone. But the people were kind and so friendly; it took months for me to realize it was genuine.
I stopped at my favorite taco stand to grab a quick bite. After nearly a year of working at an Italian restaurant, a girl could only eat so much pasta. I scarfed down my taco as I waited for my bus. I’d still never learned how to drive.
By the time I walked up to my apartment complex, I was dead on my feet. I worked damn hard to make ends meet.
I looked up at the complex I called home, and despite the slightly run down exterior, a familiar sense of pride warmed me, along with the oppressive heat. The place might not be the Upper East Side brownstone I’d grown up in, but it was mine.
I made my way up the exterior steps and down the short hall, skipping my apartment and knocking lightly on the one next door.
Familiar noises came from inside, making me smile.
Jill, my neighbor and only real friend, swung the door open looking slightly harried, but it was late; that was to be expected.
“Hi,” I smiled, stepping into her place, my eyes sweeping the room in search of Maddox. He was sitting up on a blanket with his best buddy, Mason, both chewing heartedly on teething rings, drool dribbling down their chubby cheeks.
My son. My life.
“Hi, buddy,” I grinned, kneeling in front of him. He was such a beautiful boy, every day I was struck by it. His complexion favored mine, slightly fair, but his hair was darker than my chestnut brown and was just starting to curl up as it came in. But it was his eyes that really set him apart. I never grew tired of looking into them. I had never known I could love the way I loved him.
“He did great today,” Jill shared as she moved around the room picking up toys. “Want to stay for a late dinner?” she offered.
I shook my head, scooping my boy up. “I ate on the way and I’m exhausted. This weekend?”
“Sure,” she agreed.
“Thanks, as always, you’re a godsend,” I said sincerely. Jill’s husband traveled almost constantly for work and she frequently babysat Mad and a few other kids for extra income. She’d been a nurse before having Mason, but with Tim traveling so much, she stayed home full time. She was affordable, and more importantly, I trusted her.
When Maddox was born, I’d barely known how to take care of myself, let alone a baby. But Mad and I were making it work. It certainly wasn’t how I’d planned for my life to go, but I didn’t regret it, not for a second.
After saying goodbye, I let us in to our one-bedroom apartment, setting his diaper bag down on the small kitchen table.
I put him down with his toys on the blanket in the small living room and moved to the kitchen to get his milk ready before bed.
I chatted to him about my day, our one-sided dialogue, easily filling the quiet room with my voice and his babbling and giggles. I talked to my son more than anyone else. It was a minor miracle I could still successfully hold a two-way, adult conversation.
He looked up at me grinning when I brought his milk over, and as happened more than once a day, I felt a pang in my chest at how much he reminded me of Sal when he smiled.
I missed my brother.
I missed Axel most of all.
In all these months trying to forget, it was his face and his voice I heard every night before bed.
My heart was a glutton for punishment.
