Buton Saturday, a week after Pops had died, Andy's week off had come to an end andshe needed to go back to work. Additionally, she broke it to me that she reallyhad to get home.
“Why?”I asked, taken aback.
“Why?”she repeated, stifling her laugh. “Vinnie ...” She shook her head and ran herfingers through disheveled hair. “I don't live here.”
Ishrugged, pouring a cup of coffee for her and myself. “I mean, youcould.”
Shesighed, taking one of the mugs and sitting at the table. “I know I could,” shesaid. “And it's not that I don't want to—”
Icut her off with a laugh. “You're kinda sounding like you don't want to.”
“No,I don't mean it like that,” she insisted, reaching out a hand and luring me tosit beside her. “I don't think it's a bad idea. I love being here with you, andI really think we should talk about it. But I still have responsibilities athome ...”
Itook her hand in mine. “I'm just bustin' your balls, sweetheart. I get it.” AndI really did. But that didn't stop me from worrying about being alone. “Justcome back to me, okay?”
Andylaughed, squeezing my hand. “Obviously.”
Butafter going our separate ways and knowing she wouldn't be waiting for me when Igot home from work, it didn't feel so obvious to me. I felt abandoned anddeserted. And throughout the workday, I found it hard to stay focused. I keptenvisioning that apartment, empty and silent, save for my own footsteps, and Iwould stand there, frozen, with the dough sticking to my fingers.
Idecided then that I couldn't go home. It was still too soon after my father haddied to face it alone. Eventually, I'd be ready, but ... not now, not today.
So,with too much on my mind, I told Jenna I was leaving work early. She and Moestared at me, with narrowed eyes and parted lips.
“Youfeelin' okay?” Moe asked, scrutiny in his tone.
Inodded assuredly. “Yeah, I'm just tired. I got here early and I didn't get muchsleep last night.”
WhileMoe settled for the excuse and went back to wiping down the countertops, Jennawasn't as easily convinced. She crossed her arms over her chest and tipped herhead back, studying my face and looking for clues. Looking for those telltalesigns she wouldn't find.
“What?”I laughed, taking off my apron.
“Nothin'.”
Throwingthe sauce-stained apron into the laundry bin, I continued chuckling, laying thenonchalance down a little too thick. “You're not lookin' at me like it'snothin'!”
Jenpursed her lips and shook her head. “Nope. Just makin' sure.”
“Makin'sure of what?” I challenged.
“Youknow what.”
Idid know what. I knew exactly what. But she wasn't going to find it. So, Ikissed her cheek, told her I was fine, and hurried out before my thumbnailcould find itself between my teeth.
***
“Goose!”
Atthe sound of my bellowing voice, my friend looked up from his work at the taps.“Yo, Vin. Haven't seen you around in a while. What's goin' on?”
“Well,”I sidled up to the bar, resting my elbow on its surface, “my old man died andmy girlfriend's been hangin' at my place, so I haven't had much time to—”
“Whoa,hold up.” He handed the full glass of beer to a customer at the other end ofthe bar, thanked him, and headed my way. “You said your dad died?”
Ishrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. Like it wasn't eating me alive. “Yeah. Hewas really sick, so—”
“Man,I'm sorry to hear that. You holdin' up okay?”
Hewas talking about this too much. I bit my lip and shrugged again, tapping myfingers against the glossy wood. “Yeah, I'm good. I mean, my, uh, my girlfriend'sbeen hanging around, so she's been keepin' my mind off shit, you know? She'sbeen a good distraction, if you catch my drift.” It was a feeble attempt at achauvinistic diversion, luring him toward brutish discussion about sex andwomen.
