Page 90 of Just This Once

Almost an hour into me reliving my fight with Dante, I receive a text message. The buzzing jolts me into reality, and I shift in my seat to retrieve my phone from my coat pocket.

For another surprise.

Roman

Ian told me Craig tried to act tough with you and the kids.

Roman

You want me to kill him?

I bark out a laugh, the sound echoing in the sterile waiting room. After everything that happened tonight, to receive that message is the cherry on top of this unexpected shitshow sundae.

I text back, my fingers shaking.

No, thanks. I have it handled.

Roman

Then add this one to my tab.

Roman

My IOUs are long, but you can call them in whenever you like.

Yet again, my vision blurs the words on the screen, and I’m not sure how I have any moisture left in my body. I use a couple of tissues and lean over to toss them in the can underneath the table covered with magazines and pamphlets before meeting the concerned gaze of the woman from the corner.

She’s still holding her rosary, but she’s now sitting uncomfortably close to me.

Her smile is tremulous when she speaks. “I think you might know my son.”

I press my hand to my chest, my heart beating hard against my palm. “I think you might be the mother of my…friend.”

She nods. “I’m Angela. Angela Moretti.”

“Taryn Stone,” I say, angling myself in my chair, our knees touching, each of our hands curled around the wooden armrests.

“I’m guessing you’re the woman he’s renting his apartment from?”

My throat swells, and I croak out a quiet, “Yeah.”

Her answering smile is tepid. Sad. She pats her upper lip with a tissue and sniffs then clears her throat. “I’m happy to meet you.”

Everything hurts. My jaw, from holding tension. My back, from sitting so ramrod straight. My feet, from digging my toes into my shoes. My heart…

My heart feels like it’s been put in a shredder, but as a mother, I can imagine her pain, and everything hurts all over again.

“I’m sorry it’s under these conditions,” I say when I’m sure my voice won’t break.

She clears her throat a few times. “I’m glad you’re here. Dante’s been…different lately. Happier, I think…because of you.”

I drop my gaze to my hands, not sure how to respond. The first time I admit the depth of my feelings for Dante can’t be to his mom. It has to be to him. When he opens his eyes. When I know he’ll be okay and smile at me.

“I know I haven’t been the best mother,” Angela confesses, and I shake my head. We all feel like we can do better, but Dante has never said a bad word about her. “With three boys, I did the best I could, but my Dante… I know he sometimes got lost in the shuffle.” Her mouth turns down in a frown, chin wobbling like she might cry, but she takes a breath and settles herself before continuing, “He seems like he’s found what he’s been looking for.”

She lifts her watery eyes to mine, the meaning of her words clear.

He’s been looking for me.

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