A Mother Would Know (4)

I never thought I was the type of woman who needed companionship. My independent nature is something I pride myself on.

But the perpetual quiet, especially at night, ushered in unwanted memories.

The ambulance, the stretcher, the unmoving body covered with a blanket.

For some reason, having Bowie’s warm body beside me stills the images. Quiets the voices.

Over at the hutch, I pull out a couple of the fancy plates with the flowers dotting the edges that I’d inherited from my grandma. It’s been a while since I used them. I place them on the dining table, then think better of it. The table seats eight. We historically only use it for large family meals or company. It will feel too imposing for just Hudson and me.

After snatching the plates off the table, I go back into the kitchen and set them down in the breakfast nook. Much better.

After pulling the lasagna out of the oven, I open a bottle of wine and place it in the center. I arrange some bread on a platter. Toss a salad. Once everything’s ready, I hurry upstairs and down the hall to Hudson’s room. It takes several knocks before he opens the door.

“Dinner’s ready,” I say, thinking how that simple phrase was one I’d taken for granted for so long. Maybe even resented. The daily expectation of motherhood; of domesticity. But today the phrase tastes sweet in my mouth like creamy cheesecake.

“Cool.” Hudson nods, his hair unkempt, an indentation from the pillow sliced across his cheek. That’s the boy I remember—eyes red, a yawn on his lips. In this moment, the lost years cease to exist as if we’ve traveled back in time.

If that were possible, I would do it differently. Repair the damage. And I’d start with the day Flight of Hearts’ first album released.

It was a moment I’d been looking forward to for years, one I’d anticipated would be the best day of my life. I’d been singing with Flight of Hearts since Hudson was five, Kendra seven, but for many years it was my side gig—a way to make money on evenings and weekends. It had been hard to get backing for our jazz fusion sound. Mac, the guitarist who leaned more toward rock, had started the band with his childhood friend Kevin, who played both keyboard and saxophone. Kevin introduced Mac to his friend Tony, a drummer. Rick, who played bass, joined around the same time as me. We both answered an ad and auditioned. It was when I joined as lead vocalist that we came up with our unique sound. Mac thought I had a Joni Mitchell vibe. And since I played keyboard, we could utilize more of Kevin’s saxophone.

The more we played, the more we gained a fan base. Eventually, we started booking gigs all over town, and then finally got our first big break, touring with Yellow Vinyl. It was after that tour that we recorded our first album.

Our album’s release party was being held at the Full Moon Tavern, my friend Suzanne’s place and the home of our very first real gig. Darren was stuck at the office and had called to say he’d be a little late to the party. He worked for the state and had recently been promoted to management. I wasn’t mad about it, though. It would give me some alone time with the guys in the band without having to worry about including Darren.

I wore a red slinky dress, leopard-print pumps, my hair in an updo. Ashley, the teenage girl who frequently babysat for us, was running late as usual. Standing at the front window, staring out, I bounced my leg up and down with impatience. It was my big night, and I didn’t want to miss any of it. The rest of the guys were probably already at the Tavern having their first drink.

Groaning in frustration, I abandoned my post and hurried up the stairs. Kendra was in her room, lying on the top of her bed, math book open, punching numbers into a calculator and scribbling onto her notebook. She was different than I was at her age. Always so responsible.

Leaning against her door frame, I stared at her a minute.

Her head bounced up, her eyebrows rising. “What?”

“Ashley’s not here yet, and I’m running late.”

“Then go.” Kendra went back to her homework as if already bored with this conversation.

I hesitated a moment, praying for a knock at the door. Darren would kill me if I left the kids alone. But he might not even have to know. Ashley would undoubtedly show up any minute. Probably right after I left. And although Kendra was only eleven, she was more mature than any other eleven-year-old I knew. Besides, she watched Hudson all the time during the day when I was busy plunking away on the piano, writing songs or practicing. Lost in my own world.

Mind made up, I shoved off the wall. “I’m gonna head out. When Ashley gets here, let her know that I left money on the counter if you guys wanna order a pizza.”

“Okay,” she said without lifting her head again.

When I reached Hudson’s door, it was closed. “Hudson.” I rapped on it, and it swung open within seconds. A sheen of sweat clung to Hudson’s skin, his cheeks red. Behind him, action figures lined his floor.

“Shouldn’t you be doing homework?” I asked.

“I finished,” he said.

I didn’t know if this was true. Darren would probably demand to have a look in his backpack, but I didn’t have time for that right now.

So instead, I put my arms out. “Give me a hug. I’m taking off.”

Hudson paused, his gaze flickering to the doorway. “Ashley’s here?”

“No, not yet, but she will be.”

“And you’re gonna leave us?” His voice got higher, making him sound much younger than nine.