the future. Perhaps soon, the past will just be the past again.
Sleep claims me, and it is not a retreat, but a comfort.
40
WHEN I WAKE in the morning, I feel satisfied and sore. Like I slaked a thirst. Tommy isn't here, but when I cock an ear, I hear him downstairs. I stretch, feeling every muscle, and then bound out of bed. I shower, regretful at having to wash his smell off me but feeling refreshed afterward. Great sex can be that way. Like a good marathon run. A shower always feels better if you get really dirty first. I luxuriate in this feeling for a moment and then get dressed and head downstairs, finding Tommy in the kitchen.
He looks the same as he did before we went to bed, not a wrinkle in his suit. He is fully awake and alert. He has brewed coffee, and he gives me a cup.
'Thanks,' I say.
'Are you going to be leaving soon?'
'In about a half hour. I need to make a call first.'
'Let me know.' He regards me for a moment, sphinxlike, until a smile plays on the edge of his lips.
I raise an eyebrow at him. 'What?'
'Just thinking about last night.'
I look at him. 'It was great,' I say, quiet.
'Yeah.' He cocks his head. 'You know, you never asked me if I was seeing anyone already.'
'I figured if you were, last night wouldn't have happened. Was I wrong?'
'Nope.'
I look down at my coffee cup. 'Listen, Tommy, I want to say something about last night. About what you said. About not being sure if it would go anywhere or not. I want you to know I meant what I told you. If it doesn't go anywhere, it really will be okay. But . . .'
'But if it does, that's okay too,' he replies. 'Is that what you were going to say?'
'Yeah.'
'Good. 'Cause I feel the same way.' He reaches out a hand, strokes my hair. I lean into it for a second. 'I mean that, Smoky. You're a hell of a woman. And I've always thought that.'
'Thanks.' I smile at him. 'So what do we call it? 'A one-night stand with potential' ?'
He drops his hand, laughs. 'I like that. Let me know when you're ready to go.'
I nod and walk away, feeling not just good, but something even more important: comfortable. However it goes, neither Tommy nor I will have to regret last night. Thank God.
I go back upstairs, nursing my coffee like it's the elixir of life. Which, with the hours I've been keeping, isn't far from the truth. It's only eight-thirty, but I feel certain that Elaina is an early riser. I dial the number.
Elaina answers. 'Hello?'
'Hi. It's Smoky. Sorry about last night. How is she?'
'She seems happy. She's still not talking, but she smiles a lot.'
'How is she doing at night?'
Silence. 'She was screaming in her sleep last night. I woke her up and cuddled her. She was fine after that.'
'Ah, jeez. I'm sorry, Elaina.' I feel parent's guilt at this. While I was howling at the moon, Bonnie was screaming at the past. 'You have no idea how thankful I am for this.'
'She's a child who's been hurt and needs help, Smoky. That's never a burden in our home, and never will be.' Her words are simple factual statements, meant from the heart. 'Do you want to speak to her?'
My heart skips a beat. I realize that I do. Very much. 'Please.'
'Hang on for a moment.'
A minute later, Elaina comes back on the phone. 'She's here. I'm going to hand her the phone now.'
Fumbling sounds and then I hear the faint sound of Bonnie breathing.
'Hi, honey,' I say. 'I know you can't talk back, so I'll just talk to you. I'm really sorry I didn't come get you last night. I had to work late. When I woke up this morning and you weren't here . . .' My voice trails off. I hear her breathing. 'I miss you, Bonnie.'
Silence. More fumbling noises, followed by Elaina's voice. 'Hold on, Smoky.' She speaks away from the phone. 'You have something you want to say to Smoky, sweetheart?' More silence. 'I'll tell her.' Talking to me now: 'She gave me a big smile and hugged herself and pointed to the phone.'
My heart clenches tighter. I don't need a translation for that one.
'Tell her I just did the same thing, Elaina. I have to go, but I'll be by this evening to get her. No more sleepovers if I can help it. Not for a while, at least.'
'We'll be here.'
I sit for a moment after hanging up, staring at nothing. I am aware right now of all the layers of emotion I am feeling, the obvious and the subtle. I have strong feelings for Bonnie. Feelings of protectiveness, tenderness, a burgeoning love. These are fierce, real. There are other feelings whispering around, though. Tumbling through me like dry leaves, padding on quiet, shadow feet. One is annoyance. That I can't just be happy about my night with Tommy. It is faint but has its own strength. The selfishness of a very small child who doesn't want to share. Don't I deserve some happy time, it whispers, petulant?
And there is the voice of guilt. It is a smooth voice, oil and snakes. It asks only one question, but it's a powerful one: How dare you be happy when she isn't?
Recognition shivers through me. I've heard these voices before, all of them. Being Alexa's mom. Being a parent is not a one-note thing, a single-act play. It's complex, and it contains both love and anger, selflessness and selfishness. Times you are breathless and overwhelmed at the beauty of your child. Times you wish, for just a moment, that there was no child at all.
I'm feeling these things because I'm becoming Bonnie's mom. This brings a new guilt voice, one of rebuke and misery: How dare you love her?
Don't you remember?
Your love brings death.
Rather than bringing me down, this voice makes me angry. I dare, I reply, because I
I want Bonnie to be safe, and have a home, and that feeling
Good.
It's time to go to work.
The door to the office flies open, and Callie enters. She's wearing sunglasses and clutching a cup of coffee.
'Don't talk to me yet,' she growls. 'I'm not well caffeinated.'
I sniff the air. Callie always has the best coffee. 'Mmm . . .' I say.
'What is that? Hazelnut?'
She moves away, clutching the coffee close. One side of her mouth raises in a snarl. 'Mine.'
I walk over to my purse, reach inside, and pull out a package of small chocolate donuts. I see Callie's eyebrows shoot up. I wave the donuts.
'Oh, look, Callie. Yummy chocolate donuts. Mmm, mmm, good.'
Emotions war across her face in something just short of a nuclear conflict. 'Oh, fine,' she says, scowling. She grabs the cup on my desk, filling it halfway with her coffee. 'Now give me two of those donuts.'
I pull two out of the wrapper, moving them toward her as she pushes the coffee cup toward me. When the two meet, she snatches the donuts as I grab the cup. The hostages have been exchanged. She sits down at her desk, gobbling the donuts, while I sip from the cup. Heavenly.
Callie sips her coffee and eats her donuts, and I feel her gaze on me. Thoughtful and piercing at the same time, even through the sunglasses.
'What?' I ask.
'You tell me,' she murmurs, taking another bite from a donut. Jesus, I think. Is that old myth true? About it
