Page 9 of Because of Her

“Can I come visit you?” she asks. She puts one hand on her cheek, pouting her lips and raising her eyebrows.

It’s her ‘please’ face, and it kills me every time.

“Soon, Maisie. I promise.”

“You can never break a promise,” she states, pointing one finger at the screen.

“I know.”

Audrey’s face pops onto the screen behind Maisie’s. “We gotta get you to bed, Maisie.”

“No, I’m talking to Daddy.” Maisie is defiant, and for once I’m not mad about it.

Audrey is right though, it’s getting close to Maisie’s bedtime, and ending this conversation is likely to be as hard on her as it will be on me. Probably harder.

“It’s alright, Maisie, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

Her tiny brown eyes go red, and tears fill them as her bottom lip pops out. Sensing she is about to cry, I call out a final “goodbye, I love you,” before hanging up the phone.

I’m sure Audrey will have a hard time settling Maisie, but I needed to speak with her. It’s the first time I’ve not been around to put her to bed, and it’s breaking me in two. I drop the phone and lean back on the couch, rubbing the heels of my palms against my face.

My pulse quickens and the tremors in my hands become more intense. Anxiety I haven’t felt since before my marriage pumps through my veins, forcing me to move.

As I stand to stretch my limbs, a knock echoes from the hallway and Amira calls out, “We’ve got food!”

“And beer,” Cassidy adds. “Or vodka, depending on what you’d prefer!”

Her voice floats into the room, and a fraction of the anxiety starts to melt away. Hearing her voice, even after all these years, brings an air of calm. Moments ago, I was ready for bed and a week’s worth of sorrowful sleep. Now, I only want her company.

“Beer,” I reply as the women let themselves in.

“Thought you could do with one of these after movingday,” she says, walking to the kitchen. She slides a pale ale across the bench to me and puts the rest in the fridge.

Grabbing my favourite beer, I spin the can in my hand. I mumble a thanks before taking a long sip. Pale ales have always been my beer of choice. I wonder if Cassidy remembered my favourite brewery, or if it was a fluke.

She flicks her hair in triumph and struts back around the island bench, glancing back at me for a second. My heart does a weird flop at her smug grin, and I’m torn between wondering what it means that she remembered after all these years, and why it feels as important as it does.

“We won’t stay,” she says, walking back towards her own apartment. She tries to drag Amira out of the chair she made herself comfortable in.

“Why? We brought the food, he doesn’t need to do anything but eat,” Amira protests. But Cassidy is insistent.

“He spent the whole day lugging boxes up three flights of stairs. Remember when I moved in, it was exhausting.”

I gulp down a mouthful of beer and clear my throat to get their attention. “Do I get a say in this?”

I don’t want them to go. Cassidy’s instinct to leave reminds me of how thoughtful she always was.Is,I suppose. Even as a teenager I remember her putting other people first.

The women freeze.

“I am exhausted,” I start. “And I might not begreatcompany right now, but please, sit.” I gesture to the table. After they brought me food, the least I can do is sit and eat it with them.

Amira plonks back down in her seat and opens her own lasagne. Cassidy hesitates, but once I’m sitting at the table, she follows suit, pulling out a creamy pasta dish and a pizza.

“This is to share,” she states, opening the pizza and placing it in the middle of the table. The smell of garlic fills the room and I reach my hand out to take a slice.

“Thanks.” I look up, smiling a fraction at the girl who visited my dreams and fuelled my fantasies for years before my marriage. Sharing a meal with her has me wondering if we can get back what we lost. “Remember the kid who ate garlic bread every day for lunch for like a year?”

It’s a meagre attempt to break the ice, but Cassidy lights up at the memory.

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