“She found a job in London, where her boyfriend was, and moved in with him, poor girl. She didn’t want to take all this stuff since she knew she wouldn’t need it, so we said it was OK to leave things.” She uncorked the bottle and poured red wine into two glasses. “Once she was gone, I came in and cleaned and organized everything. I’m glad it worked out for you.”
“Me too.” I put the dough in the bowl and covered it with a towel. “I only had to take a few boxes from storage. God, I missed having a kitchen.”
“So you’re a good cook, huh?” she asked, handing me a glass.
I shrugged. “I’m OK. My mom taught me a few things growing up, and while she lived with me in L.A. we’d cook together when she felt up to it. Not that she ate much.”
“Your mom was a great cook.”
“She was.” I took a drink. “Want to go sit down? We need to let the dough rise for a while.”
“OK.” She followed me into the living room, where we settled next to each other on the couch. The curtains were open, and we both stared out at the snow for a moment.
“My mom actually liked winter,” I said. “It’s one of the reasons she never wanted to move away from here.”
“You must miss her.”
“Every day,” I said. “I feel like I didn’t get enough time with her, you know? It’s like, when you’re young, you can’t wait to get away from home, and it’s only later that you appreciate what your mom—or dad, or whoever raised you—did for you. Only later that you realize you should have listened closer, that you weren’t done learning from them, that you still have questions about life.”
She nodded, looking over at me. “What would you ask her now if you could?”
“More about her life—her childhood growing up in Hamtramck, what it was like being the daughter of immigrants, why she waited so long to get married and start a family. She was over forty when she had me, which I didn’t ever think about before, probably because anything over twenty-five seemed fucking ancient anyway, but now I wonder about it. And when my father left her alone with a baby, what was that like for her?” I took another drink before going on. I’d never said these things out loud before, but it felt good, actually. “Was she angry? Hurt? Did she miss him? She never talked about him, and I had zero memories of him, of course, so it wasn’t as if I missed him and asked questions. But what was he like? What made her fall in love with him?”
“I bet he was handsome.” She said it nicely, possibly the only reference she’d ever made to my looks without making fun. “He must have been.”
“Maybe. Guess we’ll never know, since there are no pictures.”
“Really? Are you sure about that?”
I shrugged. “None that I ever saw. I haven’t gone through every single box in the attic, so I guess it’s possible, but there wasn’t anything in her bedroom or any other areas of the house. I don’t think she was sentimental about him.”
“Still. He was her husband and the father of her child. Hard to imagine not keeping any evidence of his existence, even if it was just for your sake.” She put a hand on her chest. “I mean, I’m the least sentimental person I know, and I think I’d secret away something.”
“Maybe I’ll look around up there,” I said, although I wasn’t entirely sure I needed to see a picture of the man who’d abandoned my mother when there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t give to have her back. “I have to get all our stuff out of that house anyway. I’ve been putting it off, to be honest.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because there’s so much up there, and the vast majority of it is useless old shit that should be thrown away, and it’s hard to make myself do it.”
“Want some help?” she offered. “Like I said, I’m not sentimental at all. I’ll be ruthless. It could be one of our dates!”
I smiled at her. “That will not be one of our dates, but thanks for the offer. I might wait until my condo is ready, anyway. That way I’d have a place to keep things if I wanted them.”
“Alex said it will be ready in about a month?”
“Looking to get rid of me?” I gave her the side eye.
“Definitely.”
“Well, I talked to the guy yesterday, and he told me three more weeks at least. Apparently there was something wrong with the electrical.”
“Where is it?” she asked, tucking her legs underneath her.
I told her about the condo I’d chosen in a renovated skyscraper, its downtown location, and the awesome view I’d have of Comerica Park. “Although I’d rather watch from inside the park. I can’t wait to go to a game.”
“I noticed you wear a Tiger hat in a lot of your Instagram pics,” she said, pouring herself more wine.
“Wow, you’re really into me on Instagram, aren’t you?” After elbowing her gently, I took the bottle from her and poured myself more too.
She elbowed me back. “Be nice. Or no dates.”
“Oh, no. We already sealed the deal on those. You are stuck with me on several future occasions.” I set the bottle down. “So do you want to tell me about these rules?” I made little air quotes around the word rules, so she’d know what I thought of them.
She sat up straight, ignoring my sarcasm. “No sleepovers. No excessive cuddling. No getting mad if I don’t call or text back some days, no leaving things at my apartment, and no talking about feelings,” she finished, rolling her eyes.