His capacity for joy always stunned her, something he taught her merely by looking in her face.
Now she stepped outside with Noah into the darkening October afternoon and felt the world telescoping momentarily to the small figure bouncing on his toes beside her. They walked hand in hand beneath the trees, rows of brownstones flanking the sidewalks as far as they could see.
The phone buzzed in her pocket, bringing her back, suddenly, to Bob, that invisible collection of traits (deep voice; delighted laugh) that hadn’t yet knitted together into a whole human being.
“Feel like I know u already. Weird?”
“No!” she texted. “Same here!” (Was this true? Maybe.) Should she xo? Or was that too forward? She settled for a single x. He responded immediately: “XXX!”
Oh! She felt a current of heat run through her body, as if she’d swum into a warm patch in a cold lake.
They walked by the café on their corner, and the scent drew her in; she decided to fortify herself for the conversation ahead. She pulled Noah inside.
“Where we going, Mommy-Mom?”
“I just want a coffee. I’ll be quick.”
“Mom, if you drink coffee now you’ll be up ’til dawn.”
She laughed; it was like something a grown-up might say. “You’re right, Noey. I’ll have a decaf. Okay?”
“And can I have a decaf corn muffin?”
“All right.” It was too close to his dinnertime, of course, but what the hell?
“And a decaf smoothie?”
She ruffled his hair. “Decaf water for you, my friend.”
The coffee was fragrant as they finally settled down with their bounty on their stoop. The sun was setting beyond the buildings. The light, rosy and tender, brought out the blush in the brick town houses and the brownstones, glancing on the loosening leaves of the trees. The gas lamp out front was flickering. It had been the deciding factor convincing her to rent the place, despite the fact that it was expensive, on the garden level, and had no direct sunlight. But the mahogany woodwork inside and the pleasant hedges and gas lamp out front made her feel cozy, as if she and Noah could burrow together there safely, apart from the world, apart from time. She hadn’t counted on the fact that the always-flickering flame out the front window would catch her gaze at odd times during the day and reflect itself in the back kitchen windows at night, making her startle more than once with the feeling that the house was on fire.
She cleaned Noah’s grimy hands with an antibacterial wipe and handed him his muffin.
“You know, they’re making muffins tomorrow in school. How about it?”
He took a bite, triggering a cascade of crumbs.
“Will I have to wash up after?”
“Well, cooking is messy. There is flour and raw eggs.…”
“Oh.” He licked his fingers. “Then, no.”
“We can’t keep doing it this way forever, bug.”
“Why not?”
She didn’t bother answering him—they’d been around and around this, and she had other things she needed to say.
“Hey.” She nudged him gently.
He was busy, working away at his corn muffin. How could she have let him order that? The thing was enormous. “Listen, I’m going out tonight.”
He stared at her. He put down the muffin. “No, you’re not.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”
A wild light shone in his eyes. “But I don’t want you to go.”
“I know, but Mommy has to go out sometimes, Noah.”
“So take me with you.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Because it wouldn’t kill Mommy to get laid at least once before you go off to college. “It’s a grown-up thing.”
He blitzed her with a desperate, crooked smile. “But I’m precocious.”
“Good try, buddy, but no. It’ll be fine. You like Annie. Remember? She came over to Mommy’s office last weekend and played Legos with you?”
“What if I have a nightmare?”
She’d considered this. His nightmares were frequent. He’d had one once while she was out networking at an industry event; she’d returned to find him glassy-eyed and shaking in front of a Dora the Explorer video while the sitter (who had seemed so high-spirited! Who had brought homemade brownies!) lifted a few fingers in a limp wave from where she lay, haggard and shell-shocked, on the couch. That one had never come back, either.
“Then Annie will wake you up and hug you and call Mommy. But you won’t.”
“What if I have an asthma attack?”
“Then Annie will give you your nebulizer and I’ll come home right away. But you haven’t had one in a long time.”
“Please don’t go.” But his voice wavered, as if he knew the jig was up.
*
She was already dressed, fussing with her hair while half-following a YouTube video of a giggling teenager showing the correct way to put on eye shadow—which was surprisingly helpful, actually—when she heard Noah’s high voice summoning her from the living room.
“Mommy-Mom! Come here!”