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Her compliment means more than she knows. My smile is brittle, my voice watery when I say, “Thank you.”
“You take care, okay? And tell Walter Junior I say hello.” She gives me another brief squeeze. She smells like menthol, and it reminds me of the mornings she and my mother used to sit on the patio, laughing while they smoked cigarettes and drank mimosas.
It hurts remembering the good times but it also helps to remember there were good times. Maybe that’s what this trip was about. I’ve visited where my mother is buried. I’ve thought through the tragic events leading to her burial. Today was about visiting my past and finding out what power it held.
Almost none. I shield my eyes from the sun and take one final mental snapshot of the house on the corner. My past doesn’t hold any power over me.
Not anymore.
Walt turnsout a piece of chicken onto my plate that has seen better days. It’s black on the ends and, I’m assuming, rubber-tough in the middle. He serves himself the remaining charred chicken breast before popping open a can of green beans. He dumps them into a glass dish, the sucking sound incredibly unappetizing. “How long do you microwave vegetables?”
“No idea.” I give him a lame smile. “Uh, two minutes?”
He sighs, sends a disheartened gaze at our dinner plates, and picks up his cell phone. “Pizza?”
“I’ll buy,” I rush to offer.
Thirty glorious minutes later a piping hot pizza is delivered. Walt throws open the lid and we both lean forward to take a whiff of the heavenly scent. Olives cover the entire pie. I think of Nate and his disdain for them. Thinking of Nate hurts.
“I miss this,” Walt says after a bite of Papa Leo’s pizza. It is the best local franchise in Chicago.
“Me too. I wish Leo would open a restaurant in Clear Ridge.”
Walt stops chewing to ask, “You going back?”
I pick off a piece of pepperoni and eat it. “I don’t know. Yes.”
“I wasn’t talking about missing eating pizza, by the way,” he says. “I was talking about missing spending time with you.”
“Does that mean you don’t want me to leave?” He was booting me out of here yesterday.
“It means I want you to visit more. But your life isn’t here, V.”
“And yours is?”
He takes another bite, chews, and considers. “Yeah,” he decides. “It’s more than the job. It’s the vibe here. I feel…I don’t know, weirdly at home.”
I send a slightly judgmental glance around his apartment. “You could stand some better furniture.” I kick the coffee table where our pizza box rests, and it wobbles like it might collapse.
“Humble beginnings,” he explains. “I don’t need more to care for right now. Plant, pet, person.”
“Plant, pet, person?”
“If I can care for a plant, then I can care for a pet and then I can consider a relationship.” He points at an orchid standing on the ledge of his only window. I hadn’t noticed it until now.
“Orchids are tricky. You’re starting at the top.”
“They need sun. They need love. They need company. Like us.” He shrugs as if he didn’t say something profound.
“Is your ‘person’ going to be Dee?” I venture.
“I hope so. I love her.”
I sigh.
“You don’t give up on someone when their issues become inconvenient.”
“Tell me about it.” I shoot him a pointed look.
