It was already dark outside, and she had just finished grading her fifth-graders’ essays. Twenty-three years of teaching English language and literature in school had taught her to save time, but today her thoughts were scattered, and the work dragged on. The quiet creak of the floorboards gave away her daughter’s presence even before she appeared in the kitchen doorway.
«Mom, you promised we’d watch Short Circuit today,» Sophie stood leaning against the doorframe, in an old T-shirt with a picture of Mickey Mouse, which Mary herself had once worn. Her mother had brought that T-shirt from a trip to Boston in the eighties. «Sorry, sweetie,» I got totally bogged down with these essays, Mary smiled guiltily.
«Come here.» Sophie approached her mother, and she hugged the girl, inhaling the familiar scent of baby shampoo. Ten years.
How quickly she grows. It seems like just yesterday Alex was holding a tiny bundle in his arms at the maternity hospital, and now she’s already an independent person, with her own character and views on life. Dad loved that movie, right? Asked Sophie, climbing onto her mother’s lap, though at 10 years old she was already quite big for such affections.
Yes, Mary involuntarily glanced at the framed photo standing on the sideboard, inherited from her grandmother. He always said you look like the girl from there, like Ally. And I remember how we watched it together when we went to the cabin, and he grilled barbecue, then sang songs with his guitar.
Sophie spoke calmly, without tears, but Mary felt her daughter’s shoulders tense. Three years had passed since Alex didn’t return from his business trip. A senseless accident on I-90 from Boston to Chicago cut his life short at 38, leaving Mary alone with a 7-year-old daughter, a mortgage, and an old Chevy that he never got to replace with something newer.
Let’s put on the kettle, and then watch at least one part, suggested Mary, trying to distract both her daughter and herself from sad thoughts. We still have some cookies that grandma baked, remember? The ones with raisins? Sophie perked up. Exactly, Mary nodded, turning on the electric kettle, bought with her first salary after maternity leave…
Get the cups, just not the fancy ones from the set, the regular ones. While the kettle boiled, Mary watched her daughter arranging cookies on plates. Carefully, trying to pick cookies of the same size.
Just as pedantic as her father. Alex always loved order in everything. You know, Mom, Emma from class says they have a new dad now, and they’re flying to Florida this summer, Sophie suddenly said, not lifting her eyes from the plate.
Mary froze for a moment, not knowing what to say. Conversations about new relationships had come up between them before, but each time she felt awkward, as if betraying her husband’s memory. «And how does Emma feel about the new dad?» Mary asked cautiously.
«Fine,» Sophie shrugged. She says he’s fun and buys her all sorts of stuff. And Tim from the parallel class says his stepdad always yells at him and makes him study math….
Mary sat next to her daughter and took her hand. «Sophie, you know we manage just fine, right? We’re good together.» «I know, Mom,» Sophie suddenly looked at her mother with a serious, unchildlike gaze. «But sometimes I see you crying in the evenings when you think I’m asleep.
And I want you to be happy, like Aunt Susan with new Uncle Nick.» A lump rose in her throat, and Mary tried to discreetly wipe away the tear that had welled up. When had her little girl become so wise?
«Let’s finish watching the movie about the robot first, and then we’ll tackle such serious questions,» Mary smiled, hugging her daughter. «Besides, we have to get up early tomorrow. You have a test in English, remember?» While they watched the old classic movie on the worn couch in the living room, drank tea with grandma’s cookies, Mary thought about her daughter’s words.
«Maybe it’s really time to move on. Sophie needs a male role model around, and for herself. She probably needs to learn to live again too.
Alex definitely wouldn’t want her to spend the rest of her life alone, remembering the past.» That night, after putting her daughter to bed and kissing her forehead, Mary for the first time in a long while pondered that perhaps their life could change. And these changes might be for the better.
«Mary Johnson, there’s a man here to see you,» said Mrs. Peterson, the school librarian, peeking into the teachers’ lounge. «Quite handsome, with flowers.» Mary raised her eyebrows in surprise and set aside the grade book where she was entering quarter grades…
«For me? Are you sure?» Absolutely, the librarian nodded with a slight smile. «He introduced himself as Victor, said you left your gloves on the bus yesterday, and he picked them up.» Mary thought about it.
Indeed, yesterday she rode the crowded bus after the parent-teacher meeting and, it seems, held the gloves in her hands, not in her bag. Did she drop them? In the hallway, a tall man in a strict dark-gray coat was waiting for her. He looked about forty, short-cropped blond hair with barely noticeable gray, regular features…
He held a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, and indeed, her leather gloves. «Mary?» he asked with a slight smile.
«Did I get it right? Yesterday you were on bus number 16, around five-thirty in the evening, and dropped these,» he handed her the gloves. «Yes, those are mine,» Mary confirmed embarrassedly, taking the gloves. «Thank you for returning them, but.
How did you know where I work?» «There was a transit pass in one of the gloves,» the man explained. «It had your last name and a note about benefits for education workers. I called the department of education, said I found documents, and they told me which school you teach at.
I hope you don’t consider this an excessive intrusion into your private life.» He smiled slightly, and fine wrinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes. «Not at all, thank you for the trouble,» Mary replied, feeling her cheeks flush slightly.
«No one had shown her such attention in a long time. That’s very kind of you.» «And this is for you,» he handed her the bouquet of chrysanthemums.
«A small compensation for the inconvenience.» «You really didn’t have to.» «It was worth it,» he gently objected.
«You know, on the way here I thought it would be nice to invite you for a cup of coffee. As an apology for the intrusion.» At another time, Mary would probably have politely declined.
But today something prompted her to agree. Maybe yesterday’s conversation with Sophie, or just tiredness from loneliness. «Actually, I have an hour before I need to pick up my daughter from music school.»..
«Perfect,» Victor brightened. «I know a great place nearby, in the old mansion of merchant Vanderbilt. They make amazing coffee and cake, like in the old days, remember?» «I remember,» Mary smiled.
«Angel food cake?» «Exactly.» Victor beamed as if they had just discovered an important detail uniting them. The cafe turned out to be cozy, with heavy velvet curtains and copper lamps styled antique.
Mary involuntarily recalled how in childhood her mom took her to a similar place on special holidays, and they were given cloth napkins, and the waitresses wore lace aprons. «Tell me about yourself,» Victor asked when they were brought coffee and two angel food cakes on elegant porcelain plates with blue rims. «What’s there to tell,» Mary shrugged.
