“What?”the middle-aged woman he belonged to replied, looking up from her book.
“Sorry,”I said, smiling. “I’m just having a bad day.”
“Youand me both, hon.”
Theyoung man begged me with his eyes, clasping his hands in his lap and leaningtoward the woman’s side. Something about him was familiar and reminded me somuch of a younger Vinnie. The familiar, desperate longing in his eyes irked me,raising the hair on my arms in a train car that was otherwise warm and humid.But it was because of that familiarity that I succumbed to the urge to helphim.
“Youwere never going to save him,” I said, reading the images of his overdose andpremature death. “He was going to get his hands on the heroin, one way oranother, and he was always going to die. Nothing was going to change that.”
Thewoman gasped, holding a hand over her mouth. “How did you … who, who are you …”
“He’ssorry for stealing,” I said, looking ahead at the nodding head of the youngman. “He put the rest of your money in the mattress. He didn’t spend it all.”
Sheturned her head toward where he sat. “He’s here?”
Inodded. “He’s sitting beside you. He goes to work with you every day. He wantsyou to know he admires what you’re doing for other addicts, but he doesn’t wantyou to think that you could’ve done something different for him. It was nevergoing to be different.”
Sheturned to me and offered a weak smile. “I know. I mean, deep down, I know. But… it’s hard for me, as a mother, to accept that there was nothing I could do tosave my son. I was …” Her lips pressed together, she shook her head, and hereyes filled with tears. “I was never going to be okay with burying my babyboy.”
Theyoung man reached out and laid a hand over his mother’s shoulder, and I said,“He wants you to know how sorry he is for all the pain he caused you.”
Sheturned to face her invisible son and I wondered for a foolish moment if shecould see him, and if she knew that she was staring directly into his eyes. Myheart clenched at the sight. He looked so much like Vinnie, too much like him,and I envisioned him, dead and gone. I imagined him somewhere not here,somewhere not with me. I wondered if my sisters were right, whether it was toolate for him and if I was doomed to get hurt in the end.
“It’sokay,” she whispered to the air. “Calling you mine was worth it, baby boy. Itwas always worth it, even when it hurt the most.”
***
“Hey,baby,” I said, walking into the apartment.
“Hey,Andy, get in here!”
“Inwhere?” I asked, peering into the living room to find it neat and empty.
“Bedroom!”
Ifollowed his voice and entered the room, where he lay in bed, bright-eyed andlively. It had been weeks since I’d seen him like this and weeks since I’d seenhim genuinely smile, but there it was.
Hepulled back the blanket, revealing his nudity and the empty spot beside him.“Get those clothes off and get in here,” he ordered, and I couldn’t help butlaugh as I dropped my bags on the floor.
“You’rein a good mood today,” I noted, slowly unbuttoning my dress.
“Ihad a good night,” he said, watching my fingers as they moved.
“What’dyou do without me?” I asked, opening the front of my dress with painstakingcare, finally letting it slide off my shoulders and onto the floor.
“Missedyou.” He reached out with wiggling fingers to grab the hem of my lace underwearand pulled me into bed.
“That’sa good answer,” I muttered, finding my lips pressed to his and his body overmine.
“It’sthe only answer,” he replied, speaking into my open mouth and tugging myunderwear down my thighs.
Iwas ready for the intrusion and we moaned in unison the moment we fit together.We made love then and it was vigorous, aggressive, and mind-bending. He touchedme thoroughly, making sure that every part of my body knew it was wanted andappreciated, until all of my nerve endings sang in pleasurable chorus. And whenit was over and he’d collapsed at my side, I couldn't help but grin stupidly atthe ceiling.
“Oh,my God,” I sighed, snuggling my back against his chest. “That was amazing.”
“Mm-hmm,”he moaned, nodding into my neck.
“What'sgotten into you?”
