Weather Girl(75)

“I would love that.”

I keep expecting her to purse her lips and start complaining, to make an offhand comment about my appearance or my past boyfriends, but none of that happens. In fact, it’s a lovely meal, even when the twins’ tooth fairy argument escalates to the point where Cassie flings a noodle at Orion.

Alex and I offer to clean up while my mother, Javier, and Russell keep the twins busy in the living room.

“Yarn art. Who knew,” I say as I scrub at the lasagna pan Javier told us not to dare put in the dishwasher.

Alex is ready to dry it off with a towel. “We all contain multitudes.”

In the living room, my mother lets out this unselfconscious laugh I haven’t heard in ages. Russell’s in the middle of a story, waving his arms for emphasis, and the kids are gazing at him, rapt. My heart twinges in the way it’s been known to do around Russell.

“She just looks happy,” I say. “It’s the only way to describe it. I haven’t seen her like this in so long.”

I know that a few weeks in a facility weren’t going to cure her depression. She wasn’t going to check in as one type of person and check out as a completely different one. That’s not how mental health works.

But for now, she’s taking her medications as prescribed, or at least that’s what she told Alex, and he told me. She and I have yet to discuss it, and while I want to, I have no idea how to begin that conversation.

So I’m choosing to be hopeful.

“She does.” Alex throws the towel over one shoulder before leaning in, nudging me with his elbow. “And it’s good to see you happy, too.”



* * *



? ? ?

AFTER WARM SLICES of apple pie, Russell and I take a walk through the neighborhood. We’re lucky my parents bought the house when they did because it would be laughably unaffordable now. Houses on this street are going for four times what they paid for it. But my mother doesn’t want to move, despite the fact that she’s one of the only people in this neighborhood living on her own.

“God, everything’s so different,” I say. “There used to be a forest there, and Alex and I would dare each other to go into it at night and see how long we could last before we ran out. I was convinced monsters lived in the trees, waiting to snatch children who were foolish enough to step inside.” I wave a hand toward it. “But now it’s just houses. And downtown, when we drove in . . . there was so much I didn’t recognize.”

“Paved paradise and put up a parking lot?”

“More like paved paradise and put up a Five Guys,” I say. “Not quite as catchy. And maybe gentrification is the scariest thing of all.”

We head toward what used to be the edge of my neighborhood but now leads into a newer development, boxy three-story homes in shades of beige and light brown.

“This is where I fell off my bike the moment after my training wheels came off,” I say, pointing to a row of mailboxes. “And this is where I’d park with my boyfriends so no one could catch us making out. Now there aren’t enough trees here—no good make-out spots. I really feel for today’s teenagers.”

“This is a very enlightening tour.”

We stop at a playground, one with monkey bars and slides and a handful of equipment I’ve never seen before.

“What the hell,” I say as Russell and I sit on a pair of swings. “This playground is ridiculous. Is that, like, an interactive climbing wall?”

“Yeah, we definitely didn’t have that in Michigan, either.”

“It may be a bougie playground, but at least there’s no one here,” I say, aware I’m talking a little too much. Avoiding the real issue. “We don’t have to be the creepy adults on the swings.”

Russell scuffs the bougie bark with his shoe. “So.”

“So.” No more stalling. I let out a long breath, working up to it. “I’m really glad you came. Thank you.”

“Of course. We’re . . .”

A strange laugh slips out. “Yeah. What are we, Russell?”

I hope he knows that having him here means I’m fully in this with him. And if he’s not, well—then I need to know.

“I didn’t miss how you acted last week with the Hales,” he says quietly, still staring down at the bark. “After what I said about Elodie.”

“About how you weren’t exactly in the market for a stepmom?”

This draws his face into a grimace. “You, ah, remember the precise wording, huh.”

“It was kind of hard to forget.”

“That was . . . not the right thing to say. Especially in front of the Hales. I’m so sorry.” He brings his eyes up to mine, and I can tell he means it. Until that night, he was so sure of me in a way I’ve always struggled to feel about myself. I want that back. “I can tell you I didn’t intend for it to hurt you, but I know that doesn’t make it more okay. This is all new for me. I’m not used to thinking about anyone but Elodie—not even myself, if I’m being honest.”

“I can understand that,” I say, because even if I can’t relate, I can imagine.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a boyfriend and a father at the same time.”

My heart plummets. Maybe it’s as simple as that: he can only be one, and he’s made his choice. “Oh.”