CHAPTER FORTY-TWO Children
That night Maya called her mother.She did not plan to tell Denise everything."I saw Andre today," she said.Her mother went quiet.Denise had loved Andre. When he left, she had been
careful not to make Maya's grief worse by taking sides, but disappointment had lived openly in her face.
"How is he?""Married. Two children."Another silence.
"Oh, baby."Maya cried immediately."I saw them at the park.
""Did he see you?""No.""Good."Maya blinked.
"Good?""Not because you did anything wrong.
Because you didn't need that conversation today.
"Maya smiled through tears. "When did you get wise?
""I raised you. I had to become wise out of self-defense.
"Maya laughed, then cried harder."His daughter called him Daddy.
"Denise's voice softened. "I know that hurt.
""We talked about kids, Mom.""I know.""I kept thinking we had time.
""You did have time. You made choices with it.
" Maya closed her eyes."That's harsh.""It's not meant to be.
""I could've had that life."Denise took a long breath.
"Maybe."Maya frowned. "Maybe?""You keep turning that man into a future you were guaranteed.
You weren't. Even if you stayed together, life could've changed in a hundred ways.
You might've married. You might not have.
You might've had children. You might not have.
Don't torture yourself with a fantasy just because you can see one version of it standing in a park.
"Maya was quiet.Her mother continued, "What you know is that he built a life.
You have to build yours.""I have a life.
""Then stop talking about it like it started after you lost him.
"That landed.Maya looked around her condo.Books she chose.
Art she bought. A dining table where friends had laughed until midnight.
A career she loved. Plants she somehow kept alive.
Photographs of her mother, cousins, Tasha, colleagues, trips.Her life was not an empty waiting room.
"I don't know if I want children anymore," Maya admitted.
"Then figure that out because of you. Not because Andre has them.
"Maya nodded even though Denise could not see.
"Okay.""And eat something.""There it is.
""Grief is not dinner."Maya laughed.After they hung up, she made toast and eggs, sat at the counter, and let the evening be ordinary.Ordinary had once seemed like the opposite of love.Now it felt merciful.