Coda 02 -A to Z

for her.
    She stepped through the door and stopped. She stood there, nervously looking around, looking everywhere but at him, while I closed the door. It became evident right away that neither of them knew what to say, so I stepped up to her and held out my hand.
    “I take it you’re Angelo’s mother?”

    “Yes,” she said, shaking my hand. Her hand was tiny and her grip weak. “Nita.”

    “Nita, I’m Zach. I’m a friend of Angelo’s.”
    “More than my friend, he’s my—” Angelo stopped short, and when I looked at him, he looked alarmed, like he hadn’t actually meant to speak. He obviously wasn’t sure now how to finish. I stood there wondering if he was going to tell her, but then he said softly, “He’s my boss.”
    “Well,” she said awkwardly, “nice to meet you, Zach.” “Nice to meet you too.”
    I looked back over at Angelo. He was looking at me with a mute apology in his eyes, and I smiled encouragingly at him. That obviously made him feel better, and I saw him relax a little.
    “Why don’t we sit down?” I suggested. Of course in the living room, there was only the couch. Angelo and Nita both eyed it with obvious apprehension. “In here,” I said, pointing to the dining room table, and they both relaxed and nodded.
    I went in ahead of them. I pushed the pile of mail to one side. I hid the magazine at the bottom of the pile. If he didn’t want to tell her I was more than a friend, it was a safe bet he didn’t want her seeing exactly what was on that magazine either.
    “Thanks, Zach,” he said quietly, and when I turned to him, I was relieved to see him grinning at me. It was that same lopsided grin he always had, and I was glad to see that he was getting his bearings so quickly.
    We sat down, Angelo and I on one side of the small table and Nita on the other.
    “So,” she said, “you still live in Denver?”
“Obviously,” he said dryly.
She licked her lips, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Do you work around here?”
“Work for Zach.”
    She waited, but he didn’t say anything else, and she slumped a little when she realized that was all he was going to give her.
    “You look good,” she said. “You look like your father.” “Wouldn’t know.”
    She nodded absently. She looked around for a few moments, like a topic of conversation might present itself, but none did. She finally turned back to Angelo. “Will you tell me,” she asked cautiously, “what happened after…?” She let her question trail away.
    “After you ditched me with the neighbor?” he asked angrily. I put my hand on his knee, under the table, but he pushed it away. “What do you think happened? Social services came and got me. Went through thirteen foster homes in ten years.” She closed her eyes, sucked in her breath, but he didn’t stop. “First few kept me a whole year or two before they sent me on. But nobody wants teenagers. The last few, I got pushed out before I could unpack my bag.” He leaned back, crossed his arms across his chest, and glared at her. “Real fuckin’ party. Thanks for askin’.”
    She sat there for a minute, absorbing that. Then she took a deep breath and looked up at him apprehensively. “Is there anything you want to ask me?” she asked.
    “Like why the fuck you left? Where you been the last twenty fuckin’ years? Why you never bothered to find me before now?” He stopped, and she sat there looking down at her hands in her laps. Then he laughed a harsh, angry laugh. “No, man. I got nothin’ I need to know from you.”
    She just nodded, and I saw tears forming in her eyes. Angelo obviously wasn’t moved by her distress. He sat glaring at her, not saying a word.
    “Nita,” I said, leaning forward, “do you have any other children? Does Angelo have any brothers or sisters?”

    She shook her head. “I had a daughter, but….” Her words died away.

    “You leave her with a neighbor too?” Angelo asked, and she winced.

    “No,” she said quietly. “She died. Crib death.” She took a deep, shaking breath. “It was a long time ago.”

    Angelo was still just glaring at her, and it was left for me to say, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    She looked over at Angelo, and she looked so desperate, I almost felt bad for her. “Angelo?” she asked. She put a hand toward him across the table. It might have been a snake, the way he looked at it. He pushed back away from her so fast that his chair scraped harshly against the floor, and she