Tales of the City 06 - Sure of You

take some,” Brian put in.
    “Lovely.” As she poured she looked directly at him and spoke in a low, even voice. “Let’s take ours to the courtyard, shall we?”
    Somehow, he felt as if he’d just been summoned to the principal’s office.
    “You boys will excuse us, won’t you?”
    Michael and Thack answered “Sure” in unison.

    The bench where they sat was usually referred to as “Jon’s bench,” since his ashes had been buried in the flower bed just beyond it. The soil there was bare now, but by the end of winter, the air would be narcotic with the scent of hyacinths.
    “Michael told me,” the landlady began.
    “I know.” He smiled at her a little. “He told me he told you.”
    “Are you all right?”
    He shrugged.
    She paused awhile, then said: “I won’t tell you it’ll get better…”
    He finished it for her. “…because you know I know that.”
    She chuckled ruefully. “Oh, dear. Am I that easy to read?”
    “No. Not really.”
    “I hate old ladies who have homilies for everything.”
    “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re not like that.”
    “I hope and pray not.”
    He smiled at her wearily.
    “Have you spoken to her?” she asked.
    “Not lately.”
    She took this in silently.
    “You think I should, huh?”
    Mrs. Madrigal arranged her long fingers in her lap. “I think there are some scenes…we’re simply required to play. If we don’t, we rob ourselves of ever feeling anything at all.”
    “Oh, I feel something.”
    “I know.”
    He snatched a little pine cone from the ground and flung it into the shrubs. “She’s leaving day after tomorrow. I was planning to be back then.”
    “What about Shawna?”
    “I’m still taking her to school every day.”
    “I meant afterwards.”
    “Oh. I’ll manage. That’s no problem.”
    “If you need help during the day, you know how glad I’d be to keep an eye on her.”
    “Thanks.”
    The landlady cast her eyes around the courtyard. “She loves it down here, you know.”
    He nodded. “Yes.”
    “She’s a smart little girl.” Mrs. Madrigal looked at him. “She’ll know how to deal with this.”
    Another nod. “She’s already doing better than I am.” His embarrassment finally got the best of him. “I’m sorry we stopped bringing her by.”
    “Don’t be silly.”
    “No…I mean it.”
    She reached over and took his hand.
    They sat there in silence, staring into the shadows. Finally he said: “You think I oughta do it, huh?”
    “What’s that?”
    “Go up there and say goodbye like a man.”
    She nodded.
    “Bummer.”
    “I know.” She sighed a little. “I just had to do it myself.”
    He was thrown. “With Mary Ann?”
    “No. In Lesbos.”
    He thought about it for a moment. “The man in the picture?”
    She nodded.
    “So you had a little…?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you miss him.”
    “Like a sonofabitch,” she said.

Stay, Then
    N O SHOW TOMORROW MEANT NO HOMEWORK , SHE realized. With Shawna in bed and her bags packed, she felt oddly like a sixth grader on Saturday morning. Determined to enjoy it, she had taken a long bath, then curled up in her bathrobe on the sofa with the Linda Ellerbee book. She’d been trying to finish the damned thing for almost a year.
    When a key rattled in the front door, she knew that Brian was home.
    “Hi,” he said.
    “Hi.” She laid the book on her stomach and yawned so unexpectedly that “Excuse me” followed as a reflex. It must have sounded idiotic to him.
    He walked past her and down the hall to the bathroom. She heard him taking a leak, then splashing water on his face. She sat up on the sofa but didn’t rise. If he wanted to talk to her, he’d be back.
    He was, and he took the chair across from her. “I was down at Mrs. Madrigal’s.”
    “She’s back, then.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Did she feed you? There’s some turkey salad if…”
    “No, thanks. I’m full.”
    She nodded.
    “I’m not staying.”
    After a pause she said: “I wish you would.”
    He shook his head.
    “I hate that it’s happening like this.”
    He shrugged.
    She gave him the gentlest look she could manage. “Please don’t be mad.”
    “I’m not mad.”
    “Stay, then.”
    “It’s not a good idea, O.K.?”
    He was obviously hurting, so she didn’t pursue it. “I picked up the laundry,” she said instead.
    “Thanks.”
    “I thought you might be low on shirts.”
    He nodded. “Is Shawna O.K.?”
    “Fine. Did she tell you she got a part in the Presidio Hill Christmas