5. June
JUNE
“Mommy!” Hattie comes running through the classroom and hurls herself into my arms.
“Hi, bubbles, you had a good day?”
“Grrrreat! Look at what I made. Mom? Look!”
Hattie parades drawings in my face as I gather her stuff.
I tell her they’re all amazing and she’s incredible but she’s not listening to anything I’m saying.
She gushes on about this new pony she made up with purple glowing skin and magic orb powers or something, I can’t follow, and it doesn’t matter.
She jabbers away as I thank her teacher and lead her out into the late afternoon.
“What’s for dinner?” she asks six times in a row even after I answer.
Hattie’s always like this late in the day when she’s tired.
I remember Grandma was the same, always chatting away, mouth running no matter what, especially toward the end like she wanted to get it all out before she went. “Mommy, who’s that?”
I frown down at her in alarm and look over my shoulder. We’ve been walking for a few minutes heading home. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“There are big boys. Look at that!” She jabs a finger across the street even though I tell her all the time not to point at people.
I’m about to tell her to stop but the words die. Two men are trailing behind us, neither looking over, but keeping pace. One’s big, burly, rough-looking, in jeans and a striped polo shirt. The other’s shorter, stouter, bald, scowling, in long shorts and a tight t-shirt. Both stare straight ahead.
“They’re just people,” I tell Hattie, holding her hand tighter and speeding up. I remember the car from the night before, but that’s stupid. “It’s the city, bubbles.”
“But, but, but they were there earlier! I swear!”
“Okay, honey, I believe you. Tell me more about your ponies.”
“Ooooh, yes, there’s Mooella, she’s a cow pony?—“
Hattie goes off, easily distracted as ever, and I pick up our pace again.
The men stay back, not getting closer, but when I turn at the corner, I notice they’re on our side now and still going our way.
We have another twelve blocks to go and I tell myself I’m being paranoid.
It’s the city, people are always walking everywhere, I can’t even guess how many times I’ve had guys keep pace with me for a while only to end up wandering off in another direction. That’s life here.
Something feels off though and I can’t say what.
I keep Hattie talking. She’s observant, and if I give her a chance, she’ll pick up on my anxiety. I ask about TorpedoPony and Hurricaney and get a very detailed answer. As quietly and calmly as I can, I take out my phone and shoot a text to Marnie.
June: You busy? Can you come over?
Marnie: Not remotely and yes. Need babysitting?
June: IDK. Creepy guys freaking me out.
Marnie: Say no more. On my way. *gun emoji*
June: Marn, you better not bring an actual gun to my house.
June: Marn?
June: I regret texting you!
But too late, Marnie stops replying. We reach my front door and I hurry Hattie inside. She plops on the couch, sprawling, as I slam the bolt into place and stare out the front window, waiting for the men to walk past.
They never do.
Instead, five minutes later, as I’m starting dinner, the bell rings. I yelp in surprise, curse myself for being such a baby, and answer.
“Aunt Marnie’s back!” She barges past me, swooping Hattie into a massive hug. “Did you tell your mom about Mooella?”
“How do you know about Mooella?” I say, locking the door behind me again.
Marnie grins, tossing Hattie onto the couch, and comes over. She drapes an arm around my shoulders and tugs me against her—then opens her sweatshirt pouch to reveal the distinct butt of a pistol.
“What the fuck, Marn?!” I hiss at her. “You were just playing with my kid with?—“
Marn elbows me. “Shut it, the little one’s got ears forever. And relax, it’s only a BB gun.”
“What’s a BB gun?” Hattie asks.
Marnie gestures like, see? Then walks with me to the kitchen to help get dinner ready.
“What was the plan here, exactly?” I ask, glaring at my friend. “I know you’re in a bad place, but come on. Were you going to BB some muggers for me?”
“Damn right. A crazy bitch waving her piece around? That’ll scare ‘em off.”
“Jesus. You’re insane. That might actually work.”
She winks, opening the fridge and taking out some wine. “Now who’s relaxing with Aunt Marn?”
A few hours later, we’re laughing over the remnants of pasta, the bottle gone. Hattie’s in bed, happy to get tucked in by two of her favorite people in the world.
“Call if you see anyone strange, okay?” Marnie hugs me at the door. “I’m not far away.”
“Thanks again. I feel like an idiot.” I glance down the block as she goes down my stoop. “There was just this car last night?—“
“Now you’re afraid of parked vehicles?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s dumb.”
“You just gotta get one of these—“ She flashes the BB gun at me. It’s so clearly fake, I can’t believe I thought it was real. “Then you’ll feel safe.”
“Goodnight, Marnie.”
“See you tomorrow!”
I smile to myself. Yeah, she probably will. Marnie needs these nights as much as I do.
I go back inside. The house is quiet. I straighten up the living room and carry plates and glasses into the kitchen. I’m humming, happy, content, my daughter asleep, my friends still a force in my life, and a big job on the horizon.
A big, very lucrative job.
But I stop when I spot something strange.
Something that doesn’t fit.
An empty glass slips from my hand. It shatters on the kitchen floor. I should be cursing, picking up shards.
Instead, I stare at the man leaning against my counter, his massive body blocking access to the sink.
I’m having a mental break.
This can’t be happening.
That’s the only reasonable explanation.
He’s bigger than I remember. Thick shoulders, square jaw.
His hair’s still dark though there’s some very faint gray at the temples.
He’s still beautiful in a shocking, impossible sort of way, making my drab little kitchen feel like a shoebox.
His suit hugs his muscles, and my eyes stray to his left hand. To the letters on his knuckles.
Ashes.
I’ve thought about him so many times.
Too many times.
He’s like a gap in my life. A hole that’s always there. A missing memory I know I can’t ever bring back. A lack that’s still a shape.
I meet his gaze.
The color of the calm sea, of mist at midnight.
Hattie’s eyes.
“You can’t be,” I say, head going dizzy, vision swimming.
“Hello, June. It’s been a while.”
I stagger, try to grab the edge of the table, miss, drop plates and more glasses, and feel the floor rushing at my face.