Ithought about that on the cab ride back to my apartment, about Brendan and howhe told me just months ago that he'd be here for the baby and me. He told meI'd have a bigger place to live and that we'd be a family. I rarely thoughtabout him now, I didn't have the time, but every so often, I allowed him tocreep in and haunt my mind. With shame, I sometimes thought about how lucky hewas, to be out there somewhere, doing God knows what, while I was stuck in thisrepetitive world of never quite getting enough done. Never doing enough in theapartment. Never making enough milk. Never spending enough time making money.Never spending enough time with my son—ourson.
Dammit,he was ourson. Didn't he care about that? How the hell could he not?
Inthose rare times when I did think about him, I also found that I hated him forwhat he did to me, what he did to us, and I hoped to God karma would find itsway to his door.
OnceI got toFamigliaBella, the pizzeria below myapartment, Iquickly stoppedinside to grab a fewslices. The cashier, a friendly man named Moe, took one look atmeand insisted it was on him. I protested, pulling mywallet from my bag to show I had the money, and still, he shook his head.
“Honey,it's not about whether or not you have the cash,” he said, offering a friendlysmile. “Sometimes, it's just aboutdoin'somethin' for a sweet, young lady, who looks like shehasn't hadsomethin' nice happen to her in a long,long time.”
Iworried my lower lip between my teeth, struggling to keep it from quivering, ashe collected my dinner and passed the plate over the countertop. I thanked himquietly, before turning around to head outside and up the stairs to myapartment.
Onceinside and not bothering to turn on a light, I passed the table to plop down onthe couch with the charitable donation to my wellbeing and ate in silentdarkness. Beside me, Mrs. Potter begged, by nudging my thigh with her paw everyso often, and I repeatedly swatted her away, until finally, I gave her the crustfrom one slice, knowing very well she wouldn't eat it. Sometime during thenight, I knew I'd step on it and curse at her under my breath. But right now, Icouldn't care about that. I was too stressed, too frustrated, and way toodisheartened, and I knew I needed to perk up before I allowed myself to succumbto the endless darkening gloom.
So,I did the only thing I knew to bring in the light.
Icalled Goose.
“Hey,girlfriend,” he answered cheerfully, despite the distinct sound of “Sweet HomeAlabama” playing loudly in the background. “What’sshakin’?”
“Justgot home from the hospital a little while ago.”
“How’smy main man doing today?”
“Um,pretty much the same as yesterday, but Elle said he might be off the ventilatorsoon.”
“Hey,that’s awesome news!”
Inodded into the dark. “It is,” I replied, as the smile I needed slowly spreadacross my face. “He held my finger tonight. Like, usually, I hold his hand andhe justliesthere, sort of unresponsive to my touch.But tonight, heactually wrappedhis hand around myfinger, and it just …” A sudden wave of emotion swept me up and carried meaway, and Ihiccupedon an unexpected sob.
“Hey,you okay?”
“Yeah,”I replied, quickly collecting myself. “It was just really nice. Like, for thefirst time, he really knew I was there.”
“Kenny,you’re his mom. Healwaysknows you’re there.”
Isniffled and nodded again, wiping a hand over my cheeks. “Yeah. I know.”
“Didyou eat?”
“Yeah,I grabbed some pizza from downstairs. That guy, Moe, gave it to me for free. Itwasfreakin’ embarrassing. He said I looked like Ineeded cheering up.”
“Moe’sgood people. My buddy, Vinnie, has known him forever,” Goose replied, beforeexcusing himself to help a customer. Then, when he returned, he asked, “So, whydid you need cheering up? What’s wrong? I mean, aside from the obvious.”
“Because…” I shrugged to the room and went on, “Because I’m stressed. I have so much todo and not enough time to do it, I can’t remember when I last sat down towrite, I’m not making nearly enough milk for this kid ...”
“Beinga single mom is rough,” he said softly, understandably, and all at once, it hitme.
Iwas a single mom.
“God,I never thought of it like that before,” I answered quietly, as if my volumecould control the onslaught of tears. “I’m just so mad at Brendan for doingthis to me.”
“You’rebetter off and you know it.”
“Iknow,” I said, weeping and nodding. “I know. I just never thought I’d behere.Our relationship was always unstable, and he was always a flaky jerk, but Inever expectedthis.”
“Nobodywould expect this,” he replied sympathetically, before saying, “Hey, what areyou doing tomorrow for St. Patrick’s Day?”
“Nothing,”I replied hesitantly.
