Dirk is a force. Compelling. Impressive. Okay. I have more than a crush on my silver fox neighbor. But I have no idea how he feels about me.
“I won’t rule out marrying again, Phoebe. Not at all. The break-up with your father made me question everything in my life and it hasn’t been easy. But that’s no reason not to love again.”
She listens, lets me speak.
“I’m so, so sorry you’ve been hurt, Phoebe. It hasn’t been great for me either, you know, but I’ve thought about this carefully. It’s over. So now I don’t want to waste a moment being bitter. Life is beautiful. It’s an adventure. It will never be the same as it was, but it might even be better.”
There’s the hint of a smile from her, sunlight between clouds, and my heart lifts, but then she turns away.
“I’ve had to move on and fill my life with new ideas and new people,” I say. “Most of my friends were part of Bart’s crowd of admirers.” I don’t want to go there. It’s not for her to hear how shallow those friendships proved to be; how most of them simply shifted allegiances and stuck with Bart and the Minx.
I have to be careful what I say. Donna has told me Phoebe likes the Minx. They’re not that dissimilar in age – they know the same bands; are both on TikTok. The Minx invites Phoebe to concerts when she gets free tickets. I’ve turned my back on her, but Phoebe can’t. Not if she wants to see her father. I don’t want her to have to choose between us, to demonstrate loyalty to me. That’s irrelevant now. I’ve voted with my feet.
I tell her about my apartment, how I’m hoping to buy it.
“It’s in an old block, solid, comforting, with lovely light, and district views, and there’s even a bit of a garden I’m working on. I’d love you to visit. Maybe next time?”
She doesn’t agree; nor does she disagree. She pours more tea for herself, hesitates, then fills my cup, too.
“Thank you,” I say. “And thank you so much for coming to this café. Did you see all the beautiful boutiques and bakeries and wine bars? There’s room for you in my apartment. You’re welcome any time. You have my address. Bring Jaxon. I’d love to meet him. When you’re ready.”
She’s silent, but she’s taking it in. I’m grateful. Baby steps. My baby, all grown up.
“I’m proud of you, Phoebe,” I say. She’s been brave, to move on by herself. I want to kidnap her and take her shopping, to buy her new shoes, take her to a movie, make pancakes for breakfast with her, and laugh at the voices and music on the crazy cartoons. I want to pick her up and twirl her around as I did when she was four, until she’s so thrilled and laughing and full of joy she knows nothing but love.
“Keep in touch,” I say. Already her eyes have edged away from me, towards the distance. Our precious time together is almost over.
“See you,” she says, as she stands, but it’s just an expression, habitual, not a promise, and she waves one hand and turns away. I fight the impulse to run after her and tackle her to the ground and cover her with kisses until she giggles – my beloved child.
She turns back to me for a moment, as if she can read my mind.
“I have to go, Mom. I have class. See you next time.”
I want to ask when we’ll see each other again, but she’s already gone, the rest of her tea slowly going cold on our table.
Chapter 37
