My arms are going numb,
snow’s melting down my neck.
And I feel crazy. My own skin’s become a straitjacket for my body. My heart’s kneeling in the snow, calling out his name. My brain’s behind her with a shovel, digging the grave.
I didn’t even give him seventy-two hours. But I did all the research. I know what ‘I need space’ actually means.
It’s the slow closing of the door…
‘cause he’s too polite
to slam it in my face.
So before he says goodbye,
I can make sure he doesn’t die.
After knocking, Paola opens the door.
“Andrew is living in a toxic waste dump,” I announce.
She’s standing in red-and-green plaid Christmas pajamas, one hand still on the knob, hair clipped up, face stuck between surprise and the-fuck?
“I’m sorry, what?”
I bypass Paola, knocking the bags into her on the way, kick off my boots by the door, march around the corner.
“Allison, sweetheart,” Paola calls behind me. “Andrew’s not here.”
Relief sighs out of me. “Even better.”
Then my relief trips over the obvious.
If he’s not here, then he’s somewhere else…
With other people.
Or other… person.
My steps slow around the corner.
The living room is set in an orange fireplace glow and Christmas-movie darkness. On the TV, a Hallmark couple is kissing under a mistletoe. Wineglasses are everywhere. Trays of Christmas cookies. Blankets. Pillows. Six women in matching pajamas, frozen mid-sip, staring at me.
Maria’s in the recliner with Teddy Vale fleece. Aunt Lisa’s on one corner of the couch. Aunt Fran’s in the other recliner, next to her, picking popcorn out of her bra.
Gabby’s tucked under a blanket.
The other two—never seen them before.
Maria’s face lights up. “Allison! La mia ragazza preferita!” She reaches for me. “You’re here. Come here, bella mia, come give Maria a hug.”
Paola follows me in, watching me cautiously as I unload everything onto the counter—the bags, my coat, Andison. I step down into the living room and cross to Maria’s recliner.
Maria catches me and kisses my cheek,
then my other cheek,
then my first cheek again,