Page 4 of Courage, Dear Heart

I wait, give him a few seconds to answer me. Silence. Not today then. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe. Even in my head, the argument sounds forced and weak. “How about I make us both a nice grilled cheese?”

He nods.

“Want some avocado slices on yours?”

His face scrunches like it always does when I suggest he eats anything green.

After turning the griddle on, I busy myself slicing fresh-baked bread from the corner bakery, cutting cheese, and cutting half an avocado. “What do you want to do tomorrow? It’s supposed to be nice. Do you want to go to the park?”

He shrugs, his face hidden by the open book he’s been obsessed with for months now.

Regret wells up in my throat. I fill two glasses with orange juice and drain half of mine, intent on pushing the growing knot down. It doesn’t help.

The panini machine beeps. I remove our sandwiches and put them on paper plates, then add a handful of chips.

Jamie sets the book down and eats. I watch him as he nibbles on the chips. Even those bites are silent.

I miss the sound of Jamie’s voice. The giggles and laughs, the loud squeals when we tickled him. I miss the life we had before, when CJ was still with us and silence was never this deafening and filled with pain.

Touching my tattoo, I trace the spot where the initials lie. Jamie’s gaze fixes on my hand and I drop it to my lap. “Why don’t you take Daisy upstairs and gowatch some TV while I clean down here? I’ll be closing soon.”

My cell phone rings while I’m closing the cash register. My mother’s face shows on the screen. God. I don’t need this right now. I let the phone ring and debate not answering, but I know she’ll keep calling and it can only go downhill from there.

“Hi, Mom.” I try to make my voice sound cheerful, but I fail miserably. I could never fool my mother.

“Is Jamie next to you?”

Not even a hello. “No, he’s upstairs.” I sigh. I know what’s coming next. The tone of her voice gives it away. We’ve had this conversation dozens of times. She’ll go for weeks without bringing it up, but she can’t let it go. She hates that I moved to the city. Hates that I was with CJ. Hates that I didn’t run back home when we lost him. Does she even remember what today is?

“Did you receive another offer?”

I regret the day I told her about someone trying to buy the building and their offer to buy me out so Leonora would not have a reason to hold out. “No, Mom, no new offers,” I lie. The unopened envelope has been staring at me since the mail came this morning, waiting to be added to the other dozen I’ve received over the last year, in addition to the phone calls and in-person visits.

“Maybe I should give Leonora a call?—”

“Mom, you will do no such thing.It’s her building, her choice. And you know damn well that she’s my partner and owns half of the store. I’m very grateful for all Leonora has done for me and I will not have it thrown back at her because you don’t like where I live.”

She huffs. “Watch your language and tone.” Then silence. I wait. I know she’s not done. “Did you lock the door?”

“Yes, Mom. The door is locked, and the alarm is set. You don’t have to call to remind me. I can handle the store. I’ve done it for years.”

“But you don’t have to. I don’t understand why you have to be there in that horrid city all alone. You have a home here with me and your father.” Her recycled words grate, the condescending tone like a fork scraping against a porcelain plate.

“I’m not alone, Mom. I have Jamie. And I have friends.” And I have this place. The last place I was happy in. The apartment above the store where CJ and I lived for nine years. The place where we first made love, where Jamie was conceived. The last place CJ kissed me and said he loved me. It holds all of my happiest memories. And it’s a ghost that haunts my every step.

She scoffs. “But the city is dangerous.” She goes on, deaf to my words.

“It’s New York, Mom. Not a war zone. It’s safe. There’s a police station two blocks away. Look it up if you don’t believe me. It’s the 34thprecinct.”

“What about Jamie? Don’t you think he would be better here? With a big backyard? Maybe if he was in a different place, he would tal?—”

“Don’t go there.” My tone drops to below freezing. “Jamie is a content and healthy boy. He’ll talk when he hassomething to say. I don’t need you trying to make me feel guilty.” I can do that all on my own.

“Honey . . .” Her voice is appeasing now. She’s gone too far, and she knows it.

“Mom, I’m really tired. It’s been a long day. I need to go. I’ll call you soon.”

There’s a long pause on her side. The sound of her breath is the only indication she’s still on the line.

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