Page 93 of Just One Night Together
“Can you email that memo to me?” she asked. “I’d like to apply.”
“I just knew it!” her mom said.
“No pulling strings for me,” Haley said but her mom was dismissive.
“You don’t need help with this, Haley. You’re ideal for this job and I reserve the right to tell anyone so who asks me.”
Haley smiled, knowing that was the best offer she’d get from her mom.
* * *
Apparently,Haleywasperfect for the job. She had an email from the human resources department at the hospital at two minutes after nine on Monday morning. They wanted to schedule a telephone interview, which Haley booked for Wednesday afternoon, her day off, so she wouldn’t be watching the clock
She thought it went well, then knew it when she received another email Thursday morning. The HR person wanted to arrange an interview in person and asked to coordinate with Haley’s shifts. They were going to book flights for her to come for the interview.
Apparently, they had some budget to fill this position.
By dinner time Friday night, Haley was booked for three days in the Midwest. She was flying out the following Wednesday. Her brother Brad was going to pick her up and she’d stay overnight at the house—which he was in the midst of buying from her mom. She’d have the interview Thursday and fly home Friday afternoon. Her mom wanted her to stay over the weekend, since she had it off, but Haley had one of those days off for a reason.
She had something to do.
It might very well be the last time she was able to visit her dad on his birthday.
Even that thought made her clench up inside, but she had a feeling it was time for change.
When she asked for the extra time, her boss suggested that she take all of the following week, since her unused vacation was adding up. Haley agreed.
She hadn’t heard a thing from Damon, and told herself that was all she’d expected.
Had he booked a memorial service for his mom? Haley hoped so, but she wasn’t going to phone him to find out.
“We might be moving,” she told Ninja. He jumped up and strolled toward her, winding his way around her ankles, then looking up at her before meowing again. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you.” She reached down and was surprised he didn’t move away. She rubbed behind his ears and he closed his eye, leaning into it for a moment. He even purred a bit, his tail flicking.
Haley crouched down to give him a good rub. “I’ll go down and ask the super to look in on you, make sure there’s fish in your dish. But I’m coming back. If I go to Illinois, we go together.” He meowed his approval of that, then gave her one of his intent looks, as if to say that he’d hold her to it.
When he jumped up and went to his favorite perch on the window sill, Haley went down to talk to the super.
* * *
Nathan Buchanan was grabbinga bagel on his way out the door to work. His mom was at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper while she finished her second cup of coffee. He couldn’t understand her obsession with the obituaries. Every day she read them and circled the names of any people she knew. The Saturday paper took her ages to read and she often got the ones from the city, too. Sometimes she had to dig out old yearbooks or address books to confirm whether she knew the person or not, especially if there wasn’t a picture.
Nate thought it was morbid. One thing he’d learned in Afghanistan was to make the most of every day, and savor every good thing in life—because you never knew when it would all go to hell. He wanted to focus on life, not death. Present, not past.
“Oh, isn’t this sad?” his mom said and he hoped she didn’t really want an answer.
“You could read the births and announcements,” he said. “That would offer more cheerful news.”
“Maybe I would if there were any brides or pregnancies in the family.”
“Don’t give me that, Mom. You only want the second if it comes after the first.”
His mom laughed then snapped the paper, refolding it so the article was on top. She tapped it. “Look at this. I remember seeing this ballerina dance. She was so beautiful.”
Nate glanced at the picture. It was old, but that didn’t hide the truth. “She is pretty.”
“Was. This picture has to be thirty years old. No, closer to forty. She defected from Russia, you know, for love.” His mom sighed, running her finger over the article. “Yes, here it is. She fell in love with a carpenter, Marco Perez, while on tour and dancing in New York almost exactly forty years ago. She defected to be with him and they had one son. Damon. Then the carpenter was killed in an accident. So sad...”
“Wait a minute.” Nate turned in the act of leaving the kitchen. “Her son was Damon Perez?”
