Sweet Thing (Sweet Thing #1)

“I’m surprised that you can’t see what everyone else does,” she said as she cupped my face in her hands. Tears touched the corners of her eyes and then she smiled. “God, you remind me of him.”


When it was time for her to leave, she held me for a long time and said, “I know you’re mulling things over. Remember you are your own person and you are beautiful and gifted. I’m proud of you.” She squeezed me tight. “Learn to ask for help when you need it… learn to recognize when you need it.”

I stared blankly, trying to decipher what she was getting at without opening another can of worms.

“Have you thought about therapy, Mia, to help you get through this?”

Oh, so that’s what this is about.

I shrugged and blew out a long breath. “I have Martha. She’s like a therapist.”

She hesitated and then in a gentle voice said, “You’re right. Martha is a great listener and she has good advice. Sometimes it takes a while to figure out what she means, but it’s usually spot-on.”

I wondered how my mother knew that. Martha always gave these abstract one-liners, similarly cryptic to my mother’s. It was like they worshipped the same self-help guru.

As soon as she was out the door, I went to Kell’s and worked mindlessly, cleaning and oiling the wood.

I came home that night to Will sitting on the couch with two floozies. Upon further inspection, I discovered they were twins. How cliché, I thought. “Hola,” I said in a chipper voice as I eyed Will.

One of the girls jumped up and reached a hand out. “Hi, I’m Sophie.”

I smiled really big, then stuck my hand up in a motionless wave and said, “No habla ingles.” I headed down the hallway, calling back in perfect English, “Come on, Jackson!” I shut my bedroom door and sank down to pet my dog. When I heard Will and the girls leave, I went to kitchen and found a note:

DEAR LANDLORD, IS POLITENESS TOWARD MY GUESTS TOO MUCH TO ASK? I’M PRETTY SURE I’VE EXTENDED YOU THAT COURTESY.  Will didn’t come home that night. It seemed like I hadn’t seen him for weeks. I would leave mail on his bed and it would remain untouched for days. If I saw Will at all, it was passing him in the hallway or I would see him walk past Kell’s toward the subway. I figured he was probably dating someone and didn’t want to bring her home to his bitchy roommate. When we saw each other our exchanges were polite but abrupt. He continued leaving me plenty of notes addressed “Dear Landlord,” telling me either he fed Jackson or took him for a run. One note mentioned that Jackson seemed lethargic and I knew it was another episode.

It was an extremely hot summer in New York. I spent a lot of time in the cool air-conditioning at Kell’s, looking at bridal magazines and goofing off with Jenny. We sent out invitations for her engagement party that we planned to have at Kell’s. I continued dating Robert. We mostly reserved our dates for every other Saturday when Jacob was with his mom. We shared plenty of fancy dinners and not-so-titillating conversations about the “good ol’ days” of banking. One night after a little too much champagne, I invited Robert back to my apartment. We hadn’t slept together and he probably wondered how many more tease sessions from the schoolgirl he would have to endure.

The apartment was dark. Will wasn’t home, so Robert followed me to my room. We removed our clothes hurriedly like we didn’t have much time. It made me feel like a teenager. Robert tried to be sexy, but he just seemed awkward. I flew onto the bed and positioned myself in a silly, sexy pose, lying on my side with my arm propped under my head. Robert laughed—it wasn’t exactly the reaction I was going for, but I could see he was clearly affected. He crawled on top of me, spreading my legs apart with his knees. His weight was on his forearms, positioned on each side of my head. He wasted no time… or shall I say, spent no time, doing anything else before he was inside of me.

“Ow,” I mumbled.

“Oh, sorry, am I hurting you? I’ll stop.”

Don’t flatter yourself.

“No, your arms are on my hair. It’s hurting my neck.”

“Oh, sorry.” He adjusted his arms awkwardly before letting out a big moan and then he was done.

It was anticlimactic—for me, anyway. I got up, shot him a kind smile, and said, “I’m gonna get some water, do you need anything?”