Page 62 of The Fix-Up

My phone vibrated more than once from its spot on the coffee table before I sat up enough to see texts flying in from Ali and my sister group chat. I’d deal with it tomorrow. I’d explain this was what happened when you send a woman with a broken man picker out on a blind date.

The date gets weird.

I dropped my head on the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling with its plyboard patch job and suspicious water stains and felt a whole new level of loneliness. Before I moved to Two Harts, I would have rummaged around and found some wine or something stronger. I’d drink until the loneliness disappeared.

It had not been a good look for me.

A few months before I moved here, I vowed to give up alcohol. Sometimes I missed it. Like tonight. But I knew it was a slippery slope, and I didn’t want it or the bad decisions it inevitably led me to.

I didn’t even have it in me to bake anything. Finally, I dragged myself down the hall to my bedroom. Saturday brunch came early and waited for no one, especially single moms who needed their jobs.

Quietly, I opened Oliver’s bedroom door. Through the sliver of light from the hallway, I could make out his small form, curled on his side under the covers, his hands tucked under his chin. The sight made me smile and pushed away a bit of loneliness.

I wasn’t alone. Not really. I had Oliver; he would always be enough.

Gil’s door was cracked open an inch or two, so I paused, my hand ready to knock and thank him for watching Oliver, when I heard him. It sounded like he was on the phone.

“I know. I know. But you know what?” he asked, his voice gentle.

There was a beat of silence.

“Tomorrow. I’ll be there by lunchtime. I promise. And we can go to the park afterward.”

I froze, shamelessly eavesdropping as I had on that night I heard him on the phone in the tent. He must be talking to his brother again. Sometimes it felt like he had so many secrets. He’d moved into our home, and by that reason alone, he knewpractically everything there was to know about me. But him? I had lots of questions.

“Yes, I’ll push you on the swings as long as you want.”

Definitely a child. I wondered how old he was? Around Oliver’s age, maybe. Who did he live with?

Gil laughed softly. “A million years is a long time. I think my arms would fall off. Now, you need to get a good night’s sleep though. Are you in bed?”

A beat of silence.

“Do you have Lamby? Good.”

Another beat.

“Close your eyes and I’ll sing it for you.”

Holding my breath, I pressed my forehead on the door jamb. My mom used to sing to me when I was little. Snuggled up next to her, she’d sing “Baby Mine” fromDumbountil I fell asleep. I couldn’t hear that song without having a visceral reaction, taking me right back to those sweet moments.

Softly strummed guitar music started. The singing came next, the words to “Amazing Grace.” Gil’s voice was clear and straightforward, beautiful in its simplicity. I listened to him sing all four verses before I tiptoed to my room, swiping at the tears on my cheeks.

TWENTY-FIVE

Love is when you care.

—LILIANA H., AGE 6

From the sticky note correspondence of Gilbert Dalton and Ellie Sterns:

Gil—

Have you seen my car keys? I can’t find them anywhere. I had to use my spare set.

—Ellie

P.S. Do you think the earth is flat?

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