CJ
‘I liked your friend last night, Mummy,’ Jorge tells CJ, as they walk hand in hand from their front door down the lane towards school.
She’s unsettled this morning. She dreamt about the proposal video in that liminal space between sleeping and waking, and her mind keeps drifting to Ash last night, too, the juxtaposition of how mad she was at CoLab and how vulnerable she got when sat on the sofa.
‘Ash,’ he adds, for the avoidance of doubt. He repeats her name, swishing his hand through the air, disregarding the unnecessary second part of her name like she taught him. ‘Ashhhhhh.’
‘Oh,’ says CJ, looking down at him, surprised by the unprompted compliment. Can he tell Ash is on her mind? ‘Well, I’m pleased, my love. It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it?’
Jorge nods, skipping along contentedly. ‘Yeah,’ he agrees. ‘But I’m still yourbestfriend, aren’t I?’ He tugs on her hand to move faster, to keep up with his little body, impressively deft and fast for a short guy.
‘Always,’ says CJ. ‘You can take that worry out of your head, because never, ever, ever will I have a new best friend. My best friend is Jorge Hall, forever and ever, even if I’m not your best friend.’
‘You are,’ he says, sing-song and happy. ‘I love you,mamãe.’
It’s a beautiful day, with cloudless sky and pure yellow light. The tops of the old stone buildings are all crowned with halos of mid-April sun, like proud cakes dusted with generous sprinkles of glistening granulated sugar. As they trot towards the burgundy doors of the school, sunbeams catch them in between the shops and houses, a sudden spotlight on their family of two before they dip back into the shade.
‘Bernardo!’ shouts Jorge, suddenly, on spotting a classmate. ‘Bom dia!’ Jorge waves wildly at his friend, grinning his ear-to-ear smile, the one that makes his dimples pop.
‘Such a nice boy,’ CJ says, slowing to a pause so she can hug him before he’s released through the gates for the day. She bends down to his height. ‘I love you, so much,’ she says. ‘I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud to be your mummy.’
Jorge presses his nose to hers, a hand either side of her face. ‘I’m proud that you’re my mummy,’ he whispers to her, and it’s so heartfelt, so gentle and lovely, that CJ feels tears suddenly spring to her eyes. She’s stoic and reasonable, an unruffle-able, sensible, level-headed person. And then there’s the person she is with her son.
‘Have a good day,’ she whispers, and he’s off, looking back to blow her a kiss, which she catches and presses to her cheek.
‘Oh, here she is,’ Todd announces, upon CJ’s entrance to Querido.
CJ isn’t quite ready to brave work yet. Something about Jorge being extra delicious this morning, how he talked about Ash, how it’s all juxtaposed with lingering thoughts about her ex – that video, that he’s happy now, maybe even nice in a way he never was with her – has forced all of her feelings to the surface of her skin, and she feels tender, like something inside her has been rearranged and needs to settle.
‘Oh,’ he says, changing tack as he notices her expression. ‘What happened?’
CJ shakes her head. As much as she’s come to see Todd and Miguel on purpose, she’s also immediately annoyed that Todd has detected her mood. She doesn’t want to be prodded and emotionally examined, that’s not her vibe. She just wants a coffee and a bit of shit banter to serve as fuel so she can continue with her day, armour still intact. She wants to shake herself out of this mood and crack on.
‘Nothing,’ CJ says, as Miguel pops up from the fridges below the counter, brow furrowed quizzically.
‘Tell your face that, then,’ he quips, moving to grind some beans so the woman might actually get a drink.
Querido is quite empty, with just one couple sat out front with their coffees, which isn’t totally abnormal for a weekday morning, but it’s still definitely a half-hour lull. There tends to be a steady, reliable stream of people who come in all day, with the odd spike that one might call a rush, if Miguel was capable of going up a gear or two – which, for the record, he isn’t. It’s something CJ admires about him,and a trait that must run in their shared Portuguese blood: everything will always get done, so acting like your arse is on fire is a waste of time. It’s been known to drive Todd crazy, but then, Todd does seem to rather enjoy losing his cool, getting all riled up. Some people do. Some people thrive on the drama. No shade.
‘Because nobody else is here to hear me, I feel very comfortable telling you to fuck off, dear cousin,’ CJ replies. ‘And that’s from meandmy face.’
Todd bursts out laughing. ‘Oh, snap,’ he says, organising the brioche croissants. He looks at Miguel. ‘My babe, you called it. I owe you ten euro.’
Miguel sucks in his cheeks like he’s trying to swallow his smile, and he looks at CJ like he’s won. CJ looks between the two men to try and figure out the joke – what has her snarky response just proved? She doesn’t get it.
‘Should I wait for you two to explain, or …?’
Miguel mimics zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. CJ catches him throwing Todd a look, but when CJ raises her eyebrows at Todd he simply throws up his hands and shrugs, like it’s nothing to do with him.
‘Well, this is annoying,’ CJ says, as Miguel puts down a double espresso for her.
‘Pastry?’ he asks.
‘I’m good.’
Nobody says anything for a moment, Miguel getting back to restocking the fridge, and Todd whistling to himself as he wipes down the countertop, turning on the small CD playernear the wall. Music tinkles out from the speakers, and then CJ can’t bear it any longer. She has to ask.
‘What did you guys make of Ash last night, then?’ She tries to sound as nonchalant as possible. She never got the chance to ask last night, since the boys got back after she’d said goodbye to Ash and gone to bed.
