Page 41 of Wish I Were Here
“What are you going to do in the meantime?” He cocks his head to catch my eye. “Are you going to be freaking out?”
“No.”Yes.“I’ll probably try to get some work done. The semester will be starting soon.”
“Well, let me know if you need anything.” He takes a step back, away from the elevator door, and I’m tempted to shove my hand out to stop it from closing. Because the thought of going back to my apartment, all alone, to dwell on everything that’s happened fills me with dread. I don’t think solving a math problem or outlining a paper is going to calm me down this time.
I remember Luca standing in my living room earlier today, taking up the small space with his energy. Offering reassurances when I started to panic. For a fleeting moment, I consider telling him Idoneed something and asking him to come over for one more drink. But then I remember the woman on eleven, and I step away from the elevator door.
He has a date, and it’s way past my bedtime.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I wake up to a day where I have nothing I have to do. I could work on my research paper, or develop a computational algorithm, or plan my syllabi. But until Luca hears from Uncle Vito, I’m not sure I’ll be able to concentrate. I could clean my apartment, but Sunday mornings are for cleaning, and it’s only Tuesday. I haven’t been here very much in the past few days, so dust hasn’t even had time to settle. Still, I wipe down the counters in the kitchen and run the vacuum over the rug in the living room. Then I sit down on my couch and stare at the walls.
I’m about to jump out of my skin when the phone rings, lighting up with Dad’s name. Grateful for the distraction, I answer.
“How’s it going, Kitty Cat?” comes Dad’s voice through the phone. Like we didn’t even talk yesterday.
“What do you mean,how’s it going?” I snap. “How do you think it’s going?”
Dad hesitates and then finally says, “I guess you didn’t figure out your dilemma from yesterday.”
“No, I didn’t. And I can’t believe you just walked away.”
“I’m sorry I can’t tell you about your mother.”
Can’t? Or won’t?I sit up straight. “Don’t you care that this is going to ruin my life?”
“I’d care if I believed something like a silly little piece of paper could ruin your life. You’re the smartest, most capable person I know. Ever since you were a little kid, you always worked things out.”
And with that, I’m filled with a wave of anger. “That’s because I never had any choice.Working things outshouldn’t have always been my job.” It should have been Dad’s. Or even my mother’s. And now, here I am, with a problem that only the two of them can solve, and they’ve both abandoned me.
For a moment, Dad is silent on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he finally says.
I press a hand to my temple. “Please, Dad. All I need to know is how to reach her.”
“Kitty Cat…”
I grasp at a fresh idea. “Or maybe you could reach out to her? You could call her and ask her to help?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
So that’s it. But strangely, I’m not as disappointed as I expected to be. Because for the first time in my life, the possibility that I might learn something new about my mother—that I might evenmeether—is real. She’s been nothing but a mystery for thirty years, and the fact that Dad has been so adamant aboutnottalking about her makes me want to know even more. So maybe I’ll take my chances with Fabrizio.
From somewhere far away, I hear Sal’s voice.
Maybe something seems like a disaster. But if you look deeper, maybe it’s an opportunity.If Fabrizio reallycandig up dirt on anyone, then maybe this is an opportunity to learn about my mom that I’ll never have again.
And with that, I find myself reenergized and ready to accomplish something.
“Okay. Thanks anyway, Dad.” I hang up the phone.
My dry cleaning bag hangs on the closet door—I wasn’t going to take any chances with having it delivered, so I picked it up earlier this week—and Mrs. Goodwin’s trousers are inside, cleaned and pressed.
I text Luca.What is Mrs. Goodwin’s apartment number?
He writes back immediately:Apartment 1109. And then less than a minute later:How are you?
Me: Fine.
Luca:You’re climbing the walls, aren’t you?
