Page 10 of Bobby

Their mother chuckles. “Doubtful, but it’s your taste buds.”

I hesitate only for a second before following them. I pull out my phone for a moment to let Marco know the plan.

After several flights of stairs, we make it to their door, and with a quickness only a mother can have from dealing with kids and knowing that being slow to get the door open only causes trouble, Ms. Frazzer welcomes me inside her home.

Taking two steps in, I stop and school my expression. Their place is small for one person, but they all live here.

A small TV sits on a cubby that also holds their shoes as they put them inside a fabric box, along with the high heels Ms. Frazzer was wearing. She puts on slippers, and I don’t miss her sigh of relief. The girls do the same, and I wonder if it’s because they mimic their mom or if they don’t have any other shoes to wear.

The couch is only a futon and well-worn, but the blankets thrown over it make it homier rather than sad. The kitchen isn’t grand, but decent for one in Brooklyn. Stove and fridge and a conventional oven taking up half the counter space, which isn’t much space at all. I see two other rooms, one a bathroom and the other a bedroom. From this angle, it looks as if the bed takes up much of the space of the small room.

Small for a family, yet still somehow feels fuller than mine has in a very long time.

“Mommy, can we watch cartoons?” Lily asks as she sets down her bag and starts pulling out tons of coloring sheets.

“Just until dinner is ready, honey. Ivy, can you make sure the volume is kept low?”

Ivy nods and goes to turn the television on.

“They like to keep it loud?” I say it as a jest. I know my brothers preferred to hear it from across the house, as we did more than one thing at a time.

“More like our neighbors complain if it’s loud enough to hear it in here.” “Here” being the kitchen, which is only maybe four feet away.

I shake off the instant urge to argue about it being ridiculous and demanding Ivy turn it up as loud as she wants, but this isn’t my house. This isn’t my neighborhood, and I have zero claim to any of it. I’m a guest, simple as that. I should have already left.

“How can I help, Ms. Frazzer?”

“You can call her Mommy,” Lily supplies from her place on the floor as she recolors one page.

“He can’t call her Mommy. That’s what we call her,” Ivy says in a way only an annoyed sibling can.

Lily looks over her shoulder at her sister for a second and then nods. “Right.” Then she looks back at me, meeting my eyes, which haven’t left her since she told me to call someone Mommy. “You can call her Willow. That’s what friends do. And you are friends, right?”

“Yes, honey, we’re friends.” Willow says quickly, ending the discussion and bringing the focus back to just us two. “And no, I think I can manage, Mr. Leone.”

“Bobby.”

She stills as she fills a pot with water and looks over at me. I hold her beautiful eyes and embrace the full weight of them on me.

“After all, we’re friends.” I cock an eyebrow and give her a side smile. It’s meant to relax her, and her shoulder dips as she does.

“Bobby.” She nods and turns to put the pot of water on the stove. “This won’t take long. Can I get you a drink?”

Hard liquor on a day like today is my usual, but I’m not foolish enough to ask. “Water would be fine.”

She shakes her head, a small cringe crossing her face. “Sorry, but the water tastes horrible from the tap, and we’re out of bottled water. I have apple juice and milk, if that’s okay.”

“Milk, please.” Something I don’t recall having since before my father died.

She pulls down four glasses and evenly pours all the milk in her jug into the cups.

“Do you think your giant wants to come for dinner too?”

I turn back and look at Lily, who isn’t even looking at me but at the paper she’s working on in front of her.

“No, he’s already eaten.”

She hums in response as if that explains everything.