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Halfway into my walk to the stadium, I spot a tiny coffee shop I impulsively decide to duck into. Right as I join the line, my phone rings.
I sigh when I see my sister’s name flashing on the screen. I thought being in a different time zone than Hallie would mean fewer phone calls. Less frequent guilt trips. Thanks to my nephew’s erratic sleep schedule, they’ve only become more common. There have only been a couple days she hasn’t called since I arrived in Germany.
“Hello?”
“Don’t sound too excited, or I might call more often,” Hallie replies dryly.
“More often? I’m not sure if that’s possible. I thought you’d stop mothering me now that you have your own child to take care of.”
“He hasn’t learned to talk yet. You’re a chatterbox in comparison.”
I snort. “As long as you’re not calling to pass on info about more wedding shit you know I don’t care about.” That’s been the main topic of our past few conversations.
Hallie doesn’t deny it. “There’s not much new to report. Sandra doesn’t want to make a fuss. All that’s left to decide on is the flowers.”
“Not make a fuss? But you only get married—oh, wait, this is her third wedding, right?”
“Saylor,” Hallie chastises, a clear note of warning resonating in her tone.
“I’m right. I distinctly remember her mentioning her second husband at your wedding.”
“You ‘forgot’ her name when Dad told us they were engaged, but you remember she was married twice before?”
“She only said her name once. The second husband came up multiple times.”
Hallie lets out a long sigh, but I can hear the amusement hidden deep beneath the irritation. “She’s going to call you this week to talk about the bridesmaid’s dresses, okay? I gave her your number.”
“Hold up—I’m supposed to be in the wedding? What happened to not making a fuss?”
“He’s our dad, Saylor.”
“Barely,” I mutter. Harsh, but true. I’ve had more meaningful conversations with the man who owns the corner convenience store one block from campus than my father. I haven’t seen him in person since Hallie’s wedding—two years ago. Haven’t talked to him since he called to say he was getting married—four months ago.
“He’s happy. Happier than I’ve seen him since…” She doesn’t utter the words, but she doesn’t need to. Our mom fills every silence, emphasizing the gaping hole she left behind. “Just don’t…complicate things.”
“Don’t complicate things? That’s your advice? Poor Matthew Jr. These are the pep talks he has to look forward to?”
Hallie ignores my heavy sarcasm. “I’m glad you brought that up. Let me grab him. It’s good for him to hear his family’s voices.”
“Wait, what? Are you kidding? He’s a baby. He’s—Hallie? Hallie!”
The line is silent. I huff an impatient breath as I study the coral color I painted my toenails last night. Against the navy of my flip-flops, the color seems too garish. I should have stuck with the light blue I was originally planning on.
“Okay, he’s on,” Hallie helpfully informs me. The line sounds no different than it did before. The other end of the phone call is silent, supposedly with my three-month-old nephew nearby.
“Hello, Matthew,” I state, feeling ridiculous. I have many talents. Conversing with a baby that’s a dozen weeks old is not one of them. “Your mother has lost it.” Hopefully Hallie is listening. “I think your father has more sense, but to be honest, I’ve never really talked with him enough to tell. You’re lucky you can just sleep through everything now. Enjoy that. It gets worse. Soon you’ll have to?—”
“Are you going to order?”
I freeze.
I know that voice. That superior, silken tone with the slightest whisper of a German accent. A timbre that can caress one syllable and then send the next one hurtling through the air like a sharpened blade.
You’re risking your career, do you get that?
The haughtiness still stings. Like I’m a child he has to talk down to.
Encountering Adler Beck in this small coffee shop is an unpleasant surprise—it’s a city, for fuck’s sake, how do we keep running into each other—but I don’t allow my face to betray the slightest hint of emotion as I slowly turn to face him.
