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I spend the flight to New York thinking about how I'm going to make this up to her.
I'm starting to doubt step one of my plan, but it's too late to back out now.
It's for the best, no matter what happens.
***
There's a pleasantness to the coldness of New York City in the fall. It seeps in from the gray streets, to the front of every building.
Everywhere I go is either freezing from the cold outside or swelt
ering from a heater. There's no just right, no place where it's comfortable to sit without a coat.
I check my clock. She's late. It's not like I expected Alyssa's mother to show up early, but she can't show up late. She won't be let into the play.
I pace around the theater's lobby with my hands in my pockets. I'm sure I look crazed. A man in a suit pacing around like he's waiting for an execution. But I have to do something to keep my anger in check.
Alyssa has never had any particularly kind words about her mother, but I can't believe that her mother would care so little about the play. The least she could do is get here on time.
It's twenty minutes until curtain when Barbara arrives. She pushes the door open with a weak grip. She looks like her picture. Mid-forties, short, with her ash brown hair pulled into a loose bun. There's a weariness about her. It's like she's not actually here.
Alyssa has never been shy about pointing out her mother's near alcoholism.
But I'd hope she'd show up sober for this.
She spots me, a hint of recognition on her face. I wave her over and she nods like she finally gets it.
We shake. Her grip is weak. Her attention is somewhere else.
But still, I smile. "I'm Luke, Ms. Summers. We spoke on the phone."
She nods. "It's nice to meet you." She looks me over, just a glance, the kind I'd expect from a mother assessing her daughter's boyfriend for potential.
"Have you heard much about Alyssa's play?"
She shakes her head. "I've never been one for theater." Her gaze turns towards the bar.
"Haven't seen anything since Alyssa was in high school?"
She offers a weak smile. I'll take that as a no. So she couldn't be bothered to care much about Alyssa then either.
Still, I smile. "She's great in it. You're lucky. Your daughter is very talented."
She nods and her eyes turn back to the bar. There's a need to her expression, like she'd kill for a drink.
She seems sober enough. There shouldn't be much harm in having a glass of wine.
I motion to the bar. "Would you care for a drink."
Her eyes light up, but she tries to play it off. "That would be nice."
Of course it would.
I offer to help her out of her coat but she shakes her head. We move to the bar, making small talk about the weather while we wait. She's trying to have a conversation. That counts for something.
Barbara orders a glass of white wine. She watches the bartender pour like she's watching a work of art. Her tongue slides over her lips. Her pupils dilate.
"How was the car service?" I ask.
