Page 88 of For I Have Sinned

Greenwich Village, New York, is only a twenty-five-minute drive from the airport I flew into, and getting a ride from the airport was pretty easy, seeing how it wasn’t busy. Cars were lined up waiting for their next customer.

I debated renting a car while I was here, but I remembered that my mother still has hers, even though everything she needs is within walking distance.

The Uber rolls up outside her apartment, a beautiful brick building with vines consuming the structure. She moved here about a year and a half after my dad passed. With me being a little shit and not visiting after his death, spending time alone in the house by herself became too much. She couldn’t handle the grief of living there without him and decided she needed a change.

I fought her on it when she had told me because I couldn’t believe that she would get rid of our family home like that. I vividly remember telling her it was like she was trying to wipe the rest of Dad’s memory away. I’ve said a lot of awful shit to her in those times, but that is one of things I’ve regretted the most.

Once I got my head on straight, I realized the need for the move, and I don’t blame her anymore. I think maybe that was one of the reasons I stayed away from the home I grew up in after he died.

Even though my mother was there, and all of our belongings sat in each room, the house felt empty without him. Looking back now, if that was how I felt when I stepped foot into the house, I couldn’t imagine how my mom felt living there.

As I walk up the front steps and see the silver metal box where I have to buzz her apartment to get in, I stare at it for a moment because I had completely forgotten about having to do this. Coming up with a quick plan, I press the button with her apartment number, and when I hear her, my chest warms.

“Hello?” Her voice has always sounded so polite. No matter who she was talking to.

“Delivery.” I deepen my tone so she won’t recognize that it’s me.

“Okay! Come right up!” she beams.

Well, that worked out. She must have been waiting for an actual delivery.

The sound of a loud buzzing shoots out into the quiet streets, and I open the door to start my ascent. The apartment building doesn’t have an elevator, but luckily, she only lives on the second floor. I stop outside her door, where a beautiful wreath of deep-orange flowers hangs for the month of October.

I drop my duffel bag and knock twice on the door. Shuffling sounds come from inside the apartment, and then the doorknob turns.

My mother opens the door, and her eyes go wide. “Alex?”

“Surprise!” I spread my arms wide, but they falter when I watch tears build up in her eyes. “Mom, don’t cry.”

She rushes me, wrapping her arms around my body. “Alex! My sweet boy!”

I hug her back, inhaling the familiar scent of her. “Hi, Mom.”

“I can’t believe you are here!” She pulls back, unwrapping her arms, and stares up at me in wonder with a big smile. “Come in!”

Picking up the bag, I step into her apartment and can’t help but grin. Her place is spacious, a rare occurrence in New York. The flooring is a dark wood, matching the massive bookshelf that lines her living room wall.

She has pops of color everywhere in here. The couch is deep green, and burnt-orange pillows lie neatly on the cushions, a faded yellow blanket draped across the back. She has plants scattered across the area, which is nothing new. At our old house, she loved having plants in every corner of the room.

“Are you thirsty? Hungry? That was a long flight.” She walks into the kitchen, opening the fridge, but then sighs at the lack of food. “I was planning on going grocery shopping today.”

“I’m good for now,” I reassure her. “I’ll take you grocery shopping later.”

“Honey, you do not have to do that.” She shuts the fridge door and turns to me. “I’m more than capable of doing it myself.”

“I know you are, but I want to.”

“Fine.” She huffs. “How long are you visiting for?”

“Five days,” I tell her.

“Lucky me,” she smiles. “Why don’t you get settled in, and then we can go out for some lunch. There is a deli down the street that I know you will love.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I flash her one more smile before turning and heading to the guest room to unpack.

She was right. I love the deli. We’ve just got our food, and I’ve already devoured half of my sandwich. My mother stares at me like I’m an animal.

“Do they not feed you at the church?”