“Well, this one’s not cute anymore.”
I shook my head and took a small serving. Ash wrinkled her nose and took an even smaller one while Tati ran around, looking for a wine key.
“Can I have some wine?” Ash asked.
“Nope,” Tati and I said simultaneously.
“Just a sip? Dad said he’d let me have some wine at his house when he has me over for dinner.”
“You call him Dad now?” Tati asked.
“Well, not to his face, but what else am I supposed to call him? Matt? It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t get to be my dad.”
“Does he want to be called Dad?” I asked her, carefully.
“I don’t think he cares. He wants to come to all my school stuff and meet my friends.”
“I think it would make him feel good to hear you say it. The poor guy has been robbed of your childhood,” Tati said.
I bristled. “What happened to the man-hater in you?” I shot back.
“Turning over a new leaf. You should, too.”
“Call him Dad, if he wants,” I told Ash. I handed my glass of wine over to her. “Just one sip.”
She took a tiny sip and scrunched up her nose. “Ew.”
Tati looked up at the ceiling wistfully. “I loved the way he used to dressed.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Did you and my dad get along when you guys were in college?” Ash asked Tati.
“Of course. Your mom and dad were inseparable. If I wanted to see Grace outside of class, then I had to see your dad, too. But we got along well so it was all good fun back then.” Tati turned to me. “Speaking of the good ol’ days, I think you should come down and practice with us this week after school.”
“What on earth for?” I said through a mouth full of couscous.
“We’re looking for a cellist.”
“You should totally do it, Mom. I can go to Dad’s after school. He’s working from home now and invited me to come over after school whenever I want.”
“I don’t know, Tati. I don’t think I’m good enough anymore.” I was also worried that Ash was embracing Matt a little too eagerly. It made me realize how desperately she was missing Dan. “And Ash, how is it that you’re already so comfortable with your father? You barely know him?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“I’m afraid you’re doing this to displace your grief,” I said.
“I think you’re overanalyzing this, Mom. I look at him and I see myself. I’m just comfortable around him. Plus, he’s so nice and wants to be a part of my life. Don’t ruin that for me because of your screwed-up relationship with him.”
“I’m going to pretend like you’re not being sassy right now.” Though she was probably right.
We continued to push the lamb and couscous around our plates. It was as terrible as it looked. Finally, Tati put down her fork.
“So, you guys wanna get a burger or something?”
Ash and I nodded eagerly.
“You should stick to spaghetti,” Ash said. “You’re good at that.”
“That was takeout, Ash,” I said, as Tati burst out laughing.
“Oh,” she squeaked, blushing.
“C’mon,” Tati said. “Let’s get those burgers.”
AFTER SCHOOL, FOR the rest of the week, I went to practice with Tati and the New York Philharmonic. Ash went to Matt’s each day, and then each night, before she went to bed, she would recap every detail of their time together. She was falling in love with him, the way daughters do with their dads. How could she not? I was happy about it, but still, I felt this ache over my own relationship with Matt.
On Saturday, Tati offered to take Ash to a movie, and I went to dinner alone at a small Italian bistro, where I let the waiter talk me into ordering a bottle of wine.
“You can have a glass and take the rest home with you. We’ll wrap it up,” he said.
I agreed, but ended up staying for two hours and drinking at least three quarters of the bottle. From under the little twinkly lights that hung from the awning, I watched people walking along the street, holding hands, kissing on the corner. The Godfather–like music and warmth from the outdoor heater was soothing me right to sleep. “Mam?” said the waiter as he reached for the bottle. “Can I wrap this up for you?”
That must be my cue to leave. Time for the tipsy lady to scram. “Yes, that would be wonderful.” There was only about a glass left, but I took it anyway.
After I paid, I walked back the four blocks toward my house, but when I passed Matt’s street, I turned onto it.
From the other side of the street, I could see inside of his loft. There he was, sitting on his couch, staring straight ahead. In the darkness below, I stood watching him, thinking it was weird that, between he, me, and Ash, none of us were together that night. He was sipping wine and looking pensively at something, or maybe nothing at all. I wondered what kind of music he was listening to. He stood up and walked to the window. I backed up farther into the shadows so he couldn’t see me. He was completely still as he stood there, watching the occasional car go by.