Chapter 20
E WAN
“Thank you so much for coming,” Ezra says, inviting me in.
He gestures at the small, empty one-bedroom apartment.
“When did you get it?” I ask, turning to him.
“This morning?”
He smiles, still bruised. Still limping. But with a big smile on his face.
“How much?”
“That’s not why I asked you to come here and see it. Besides, I’ve already paid for it.”
I glance at him, and his smile broadens.
“I worked and made good money this summer in Colorado.”
“While living with that woman?”
“Mm-hmm. She knew about my work.”
“Work work? Or, um…?
“Work work. I worked in construction. It was good money. That’s how I bought my bike. It’s a used bike.”
“It was.”
“It’s in the shop now. They’ll fix it for me. I can’t use it now, anyway.”
I walk in, and he closes the door behind me. His rental comes with wooden floors, upgraded windows, a nice water view, and a small kitchen.
The place has new appliances.
The bathroom is small but clean.
“How much, Ezra?”
“I told you I don’t need your money.”
I look out the window and catch the sunlight reflected in the water, and the woman I spent time with today comes to mind.
What if…?
I push that thought back.
There’s no point in thinking about that.
I turn around and face him.
“How do you plan to pay for it from now on? The money will run out.”
“I need a job. The same kind of job, if possible. I liked it.”
“You can’t work now. You need a few weeks to heal. Maybe months.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few weeks. Right now, I can cover a couple of months of rent and living expenses. I’ll find some work in the meantime. There a lot of stores in the neighborhood. A few Irish pubs, too,” he says. “I could work in one of them part-time.”
“You’re not hitting those pubs.”
“No, no. Just working. You know me. I never drink.”He pauses for a moment before he continues. “The food is also great in this neighborhood. They have the best Dominican food.”
“Why this area?”
“The prices are better.”
“What about your lady friend? What does she say about all this? Is she moving in with you?”
“No. And she doesn’t have a say in this. I told her I wouldn’t live at her place. I did that once, and it turned out to be a mistake.”
I peel my eyes away from him and look around the space. I commend him for doing this.
“I thought about what you said at the hospital,” he murmurs, propping himself against the kitchen counter. “You were right. I can’t be some girl’s problem. I need to take care of myself and not depend on them.”
“Mm-hmm… Good thinking, son. What about we do this? You’ll start a new job when you get a clean bill of health. In the meantime, I’ll buy furniture for your place and cover the first couple of months of rent, the agent’s fee, and the deposit. What say you?”
He looks at me, pondering.
“I played Santa for your little cousin,” I say, and he laughs, his chuckle reminding me of his mother’s. “You made me embarrass myself,” I joke, and he shakes his head.
“No,” he says, resolute. “I said I’d do it alone.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll do it alone. You’ll cover your everyday expenses and all that, but keep the rest of your money for now.
Trust me. It’s better that way. You never know when you need it.
Plus, you’re already on your own,” I say, tilting my chin toward the living room.
“No one will bother you. I’ll feel better if I can help you out. ”
He thinks about it for a moment.
“Can you give me a loan?”
“No. It’s a gift. Christmas is around the corner, and you won’t get anything else from me. So take it or leave it,” I say with humor, and he finally comes around.
“Okay.”
“Good,” I say, extending my hand out.
He straightens, and we shake hands before I pat him on his back.
“I’ll send someone with a truck, and you pick the things that you want delivered. The money will be in your bank account tomorrow morning. The rent is a little over two thousand per month? Less than three thousand?”
“Twenty-five hundred dollars.”
“I thought so. Good. I’m glad you’re in good spirits, and you made such a bold move. Things will get better once you start living on your own.”
My eyes go down before moving to his face.
“Do you want me to drop you off someplace?’
“No. Amanda will be here soon. She hasn’t seen it yet.”
“All right. Call me if you need me,” I say, heading to the door.
He opens it and speaks again.
“How was the party?”
I stop and turn to him.
“The Christmas party?” he says. “The one where I played Santa?”
“Yeah… How was it?” I laugh. “I didn’t quite screw it, and things worked out in the end. It wasn’t all bad,” I say, Scarlett coming to mind again.
Ezra is waiting for me to continue.
“There was this…”
I stop, and like the first time, I push that thought back.
I can’t think about Scarlett in serious terms.
I can’t go so far as to imagine her being part of my family. Introducing her to Ezra and making a case for her to replace his mother. The ramifications of bringing someone like her into our lives are hard to grasp.
“Colley’s teacher,” he says, grinning. “Miss Scarlett.”
I turn to stone.
“How do you know about Miss Scarlett?”
The flicker of a smile tickles my lips as he laughs knowingly.
“I know everything about her,” he says, amused.
“Colley couldn’t stop talking about her.
I know she’s a good teacher and teaching them how to read.
I think he has a crush on her, but don’t tell Elisa.
She might get mad at him. That’s what he thinks.
He insisted I needed to help her with the party, and I couldn’t say no to him.
How is she?” he asks, mischief glinting in his eyes.
My lips tilt into a smile.
“Are you asking me how she is as a woman? She surely didn’t teach me any reading skills.”
“Yeah, right.” He chuckles. “How is she?”
“Too old for you,” I say, amused. “You have your girlfriends, so stay in your lane, son.”
He swiftly catches the nuance in my voice, and surprise flashes through his eyes.
“Oh… No way. You like her too.”
“She’s a good woman. What’s not to like about her? She’s talented, industrious, and a good teacher, as Colley said.”
He looks at me with renewed interest.
“Wow? I’ve never heard you talk like that about a woman. What does she look like?”
I have a hard time pushing back a smile.
“She looks like a normal woman. She has long hair. And that’s pretty much all I noticed,” I say. “She’s smart. And funny,” I add.
“Go on.”
I finally flash a smile.
“I can see why little Colley likes her.”
“I’m sure his reasons are different than yours.”
“I can’t comment on that.”
He turns pensive for a second.
“Did you ask her out?” he asks.
“Ezra?”
“What? You should ask her out if you like her. That’s what I’d do.”
My smile subsides, morphing into a dull, distorted pain.
“It’s not that simple, and you know it.”
His eyes darken.
“This can’t be about Mom. You know what she’d say if she were here.”
“It’s not about what she’d say.”
“Then what is it?”
I take in a deep breath and let out a long exhale.
“These things are more complicated than you think. You’ll see how this works in a little while when you meet a grown-up woman.”
“Have you slept with her?”
My eyebrows go up.
“I just met the woman. No. Of course not.”
“Then you should.”
“Is that your opinion as a serial boyfriend? Or did you read that in a book? Do you think that’s the foundation of a great love story?”
“I think you need to start somewhere. Take her out. Make her feel something for you. And then you think about the rest.”
“I wouldn’t trademark your method of approaching women anytime soon.”
“If she’s as good as Colley says, you might need to keep an eye on her.”
A knowing smile crawls up my lips, making him chuckle.
“Oh, you’re doing that already.”
“I just met the woman,” I still argue.
“You’ve closed bigger deals than this in less time. So don’t play coy with me.”
I gesture in defeat.
“I need to go. I have a meeting downtown.”
“Sure. Think about what I just said. Mom wouldn’t want you to stay single forever.”
“Let her rest in peace,” I say seriously, with a hint of sadness in my voice, as I pat his back and hug him briefly.
“I will. Although, I’m right,” he says stubbornly as we break away from each other.
I smile without him seeing me before the door closes behind me, and I take the stairs down.
Scarlett's text message arrives as I walk to the car waiting for me in the front.
Her schedule has changed.
I give my driver new directions. We’re going to Brooklyn first and then to my tailor.
My entire day looks different now.
Leaning back in my seat, I think about what Ezra said as the car starts moving.
The funny thing is, I have a six-year-old smitten with her in my family and a teenage son who can’t wait to see her in my life.
Speaking of feeling no pressure, right?
SCARLETT
She is such a beautiful cat.
Emily named the cat Olivia.
With the grace of an aristocrat, she lies on her pillow, snoozing and flicking her whiskers from time to time while I look out the window.
There are many things I could be doing when I pet sit. I could read, of course, but I’m too restless for that.
As the streetlights come on, a few snowflakes start swaying in the cold evening wind.
This is a beautiful house on a quiet street. An amazing spot, if you ask me. This is the other thing I love about these gigs. I get to spend time in beautiful homes.
Historical places that witnessed the lives of so many generations unfolding between their walls.
The more I stare at the view, the sleepier I get.
I almost drift off to sleep when my phone hums with an alert. Suddenly pushing upright and diving for it, I manage to startle the cat.
I texted Ewan more than an hour ago and haven’t heard back from him yet, so this must be him.
I hope it’s him.
I’m not in the mood to get disappointed.
Yes, it’s him.
I tap the screen and read his message.
Ewan: I can’t take you home tonight. I will send my driver.
My hand slackens.
That’s the thing with having mixed feelings. You never know which one prevails and why.
It’s normal not to have his schedule tailored after mine, so why am I longing to see him again?
An hour or so ago, I needed some time to figure out whether I wanted to become friends with a mobster.
And now that he can’t make it tonight––and it wasn’t a date or anything––I feel frustrated.
I don’t get it. Why do I feel that way?
He can’t make it? Fine. I’ll take the train and be home in no time. I don’t need his driver.
I start typing, relaying to him exactly that.
His answer arrives after a while.
He must be busy even now.
Ewan: You’re not taking the train. My driver will pick you up. Send me the address and an approximate time.
I chew my lip for a few seconds while Olivia rolls to her back, displaying her belly.
I stare at her, mulling over an answer, when a crazy idea pops into my head, and I type again.
Me: I can wait for you if you’re headed home. There’s stuff I can do in Manhattan.
Cringing inside, I tap send. Clingy much?
If he doesn’t want to let go of me, why would I?
Two minutes pass.
I know it because I glance at the digital clock with religiosity.
No answer.
Me: It’s okay. Send your driver around six.
Emily will return at around five or even earlier.
I can use the extra time to walk around Manhattan. Go downtown and order Chinese takeout before heading home.
There’s no need to be picked up precisely when I finish work and be taken home.
Me: At the place we had lunch today.
A few more moments pass before he finally answers.
Ewan: Okay.
That’s it. That’s all he says. Which is what normal people do.
Annoyed with myself, I crash back and close my eyes.
It doesn’t take long, and I hear noise at the door, and Emily walks in soon after.
She’s come home early, and I crush my surprise, graciously accepting the full pay before saying goodbye to her and the cat and finding myself out in the street with a few hours to kill.
This is unexpected and unplanned, but I won't text Ewan again.
Determined to spend some time by myself, I walk to Lexington Avenue and head south.