Bad Mommy(14)

“No,” I said. “My mom is in Chicago, and my dad is … well, he’s everywhere. They got divorced when I was little. I have a sister, but we don’t really talk unless she needs something.”

Jolene made a face like she knew what I meant.

Darius set dessert on the table, right in front of me. It was one of Jolene’s cakes. “Just a small slice,” I told him. “I’m trying to watch what I eat.” He cut me a huge slice and I set to work on it. She really was an ass for making it seem like she couldn’t bake. It reminded me of those skinny girls who always called themselves fat. Halfway through my cake, Mercy climbed into my lap and I wanted to cry from the joy of it.

“It takes her a while, but boy, when she warms up…” Jolene said. She winked at Mercy, and the little girl giggled. I didn’t like that. Don’t steal my moment, you know?

I wanted to tell her that Mercy and I didn’t need a warm up. We’d known each other for a very long time, maybe even a couple lifetimes. Did it work that way? People were gifted the same souls over and over? In which case, why did Mercy go to Jolene? Maybe we were tied together in some way, I thought, looking at her. Wasn’t that an interesting thought? I felt very close to her all of a sudden. I squeezed Mercy in a little hug as she dug into her cake.

“I was born in England,” I told them. “My parents met over there while my dad was on contract for work. They moved to the States when I was seven.”

“Ah,” said Jolene, “you say very British things sometimes. That makes sense.”

I smiled. I liked that she noticed that. People who noticed details weren’t assholes; they were seeing you. Which actually took some effort, to look outside of yourself and see others. A rare thing nowadays.

“My mother has a heavy accent,” I told them. “I guess I just picked up the pronunciation from her.”

Darius asked if I’d like tea instead of coffee since I was a Brit, and I said yes, actually I would. He brought milk and a bowl of sugar cubes over, and I was impressed he knew the way we drank it.

“How are you liking the hood?” he asked.

“Oh, I love it. It’s zestier than the last place I lived.”

“Zestier,” Darius repeated. “It is rather zesty here, isn’t it?” We all laughed.

“And your … what’s his name? Should I not be bringing that up?” he asked, seeing my face. I wiped it clean. I didn’t want to bore them with details of my failed marriage. It was what it was.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just trying to be happy,” I said. Darius nodded like he understood.

“So, you just up and sold your house and bought this one? Needed a change of scenery. A new start.”

“Yup, pretty much. You just throw something at a wall and see if it sticks.” I was getting a bad taste in my mouth. I didn’t like to talk about all of that nonsense.

I was startled when Jolene reached over to put her hand on top of mine, squeezing slightly. I felt tears well up in my eyes and tilted my head back to keep them from falling. How long had it been since someone showed me kindness? Without friends there was really only my mother, and she’d send a bouquet of sunflowers to my house when she thought I was sad. The card would always say something ridiculous like: The sun will come out tomorrow. A vast improvement from when I’d lost the baby and she’d said: “It was too small to even be considered a baby, Fig. Chin up, you’ll no doubt have another.”

“Ugh, you’re making me cry,” I said, swiping at my eyes. “It’s all over now. I think, anyway. I’m glad for that.”

“Yes, it is. And I know it’s cliché to say, but you’re much better off without people who bring you down, don’t support you. It’ll be a healing process, but I think you’ll be just fine, whatever you decide.” I nodded at her words. Maybe that’s why Darius liked Jolene, they spoke the same language.

“Change of subject,” Jolene said, swirling her hand in the air. I thought she was a little drunk. “Darius, you’re good at that.”

Darius launched into a story about work, telling us how he caught his secretary eavesdropping on sessions with his clients. In minutes we were all laughing, and my heart felt light as a feather. All this time I’d been missing friends, genuine have-your-best-interest-at-heart friends. Mercy finished her slice and hopped down from my lap, informing all of us that I’d be putting her to bed.

“Three stories,” she said, holding up five fingers.

Jolene adjusted her fingers so there were only three. “Well, we don’t know if Miss Fig has to get home, Mercy. Maybe-”

“No, I’ll do it,” I told her. “I’d love to.”

“Well, look at that, Mercy. Baby whisperer, Fig, has agreed to put you to bed. It feels like Christmas,” he joked.

I was so very excited.

“Let’s go, Mercy,” I said, trying to temper the excitement in my voice. “You get to pick three books,” I said. “But, not long ones.”

“Very long ones,” she said, pulling me down the hall to her bedroom.

I heard Jolene tell Darius that she was going to take a quick shower. Then I heard them giggling in that private way couples do when they’re joking about sex. I glanced over my shoulder to see them disappear into what I supposed was their bedroom.