11
I’ve fallen into a nice routine over the last three days. Milly has been sleeping a lot and only really wakes up to take her meds. The doctor said to expect her to be groggy when she wakes up. I think delirious is a more apt description of Milly when she's awake. This virus has laid her flat, and I shudder to think what would have happened if I hadn’t come by.
Anthony, it turns out, is excellent company. He’s also very protective of his mother. On Saturday, after I made him breakfast, I thought things were going well with us. We ate in companionable silence, and when I was getting up to put our dishes in the sink, he dropped his little kid sized bomb.
“If you want to be my friend, you have to make my mommy happy first. You can’t make her cry.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, my hands full of dirty breakfast dishes and turned back toward the table.
His face was set in a stern expression that gave me a glimpse of what he’ll look like when he’s older. He looks a lot like Milly’s dad except his hair and eyes are both dark brown.
“Well, little man,” I begin slowly, unsure how to answer this. “I would never intentionally make anyone cry. And especially not your mom. She’s my best friend.” I try a smile and hope that my answer will cut this conversation short.
He doesn’t smile back. He just studies me with an awareness that belies his age.
“If she's your best friend, where have you been all this time?” he asks me, his eyes never leaving mine.
I exhale a big breath, sit back down, and close my eyes for a moment as I try to gather my thoughts.
“Well, friends don’t always have to see each other. I lived in a different city, a different state, so I wasn’t always able to be here for your mom.”
I don’t think he understands everything that happened with his grandfather, and that’s a can of worms I don’t think is my place to open with him. So, I tell him the closest thing to the truth I know.
“I’ve known your mother a long time. I have always been her friend and she has always been mine, even though we didn’t see each other. But, now, I’ll be around, as long as it makes your mom happy.”
He perks up a little at that last sentence. He slides out of his chair, picks up his juice cup, and walks it over to the sink.
“Okay, well, when she wakes up, we can ask her if you being around makes her happy. I’ll tell her you make good waffles. She loves waffles, so that might help.”
And then he walks out of the kitchen. He leaves me sitting at the table slightly slack-jawed and completely speechless.
I’m glad Milly’s son loves her so much. I hope his waffle endorsement will help me plead my case when Milly is finally coherent enough for me to lay everything out for her.
I just hope she’ll give me a chance to explain.
On Monday, I have to figure out Anthony’s schedule and get him to school. It helps that he's a really smart kid and knows his routine like the back of his hand.
After I drop Anthony off at school—the carpool lane is a kidnapper’s best friend—I come back to the house, and open my laptop and spend the day working.
Milly was only ever awake long enough to drink some water and for me to get her to swallow more of the antivirals my doctor had prescribed. I can tell she's aware of me, but she doesn’t seem to really know it’s me.
She always mumbles Anthony’s name when she's awake and I assure her he’s fine, but I'm not sure it’s really getting through.
I’ve just settled down to prepare for a call I have in thirty minutes when Milly’s house phone rings for the third time in the last five minutes. The caller ID says Mary Dennis. Her mother. I know I should answer because she's probably starting to worry.
But, I'm honestly afraid to talk to her. I have no idea how she will react to me being in Milly’s house. I can’t imagine she’ll be thrilled. Milly has always been very close to her mother and given her mother lives here with her, I can’t imagine that has changed. She must know what I did last week.
The phone stops ringing and I sigh in relief, but it starts ringing less than thirty seconds later. I'm worried it will wake Milly so I decide to swallow my cowardice and answer.
I clear my throat and pick up. “Hello?”
“Who is this?” Her response is sharp. She sounds pissed.
“Uh. It’s Dean. Orleans,” I say, and I feel like a kid again.
“Where is Milly?” she barks at me.
“Milly is sleeping.” I wince at the way I know that sounds and the assumptions she must be making right now.
“Why is she sleeping at ten thirty in the morning? Why are you in her house? Why hasn’t she answered her phone in two days?” she demands, her voice becoming louder and deeper as she hurls the questions at me.
“Well, she—” I start.
“You know what? Never mind. I’m coming home. I don’t know what is going on over there, but clearly it’s nothing good,” she says in an angry huff.
“No, no! Everything is fine!” I say quickly, I feel like I’ve lost whatever control I had over the conversation and it’s spiraling out of control.
“The hell it is!” she almost shouts.
“No, please, listen. Yes, Milly isn’t well. I came by on Friday and she had a really high fever. I called a doctor, turns out she has the flu. She has medication and is resting.” I say this in a rush, afraid she’ll hang up and be on the next train before I can stop her. I'm suddenly desperate for her to not return. I haven’t had any time with Milly and I need it. I need her to get well enough to talk to me so that I can at least apologize for what I did and figure out how to convince her to give me, us, a chance.
“And where is Anthony? Don’t tell me you’ve been watching him,” she says, but she sounds less angry and more amused now, and I’m a little offended.
“Yes, actually. I have. He hasn’t missed a meal. I took him to school today. He seems perfectly happy.”
I try to keep the defensiveness out of my voice, but I feel like I’ve managed with this situation well.
“Well, well, well,” she drawls and then she laughs.
I'm so taken aback by her sudden change in tone I don’t respond right away.
“Okay, well it sounds like you’ve got it all under control, Dean. It’s nice to hear your voice after all these years, by the way.”
“Um. Okay. Thank you,” I say, unable to respond to this very cordial statement. It’s the last thing I expected from her, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
“Well, I’m sure Milly will call me when she wakes up. But, I’ll call to check on her again tonight,” she says, sounding almost whimsical.
“Okay,” I respond dumbly. She has totally disarmed me, and I don’t know what to make of what she's saying.
“Is that all you’re going to say? What’s the matter with you, son? Are you coming down with something, too?” she asks with a laugh.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to keep up with this conversation,” I say, deciding total honesty is the only way to go right now.
She laughs delightedly, and I shake my head, but her laughter is infectious and I laugh with her.
“Okay, you guys have a good week. I’ll be back on Friday night. I can’t wait to see you,” she says when she stops laughing and her voice is laced with affection and warmth.
“Okay, Mrs. Hassan,” I say reflexively.
“Oh. No one has called me that in years.” She sounds wistful and happy at the same time. “It’s lovely to hear. Take care of my Milly and Anthony. Bye.” And then without waiting for me to respond she hangs up.
I stand there for a minute, replaying the conversation. She did an about face so quickly I'm not sure what to make of it, but I feel a pang of nostalgia after talking to her.
I spent a good portion of my high school years sitting at her kitchen table, swimming in their pool, lounging on her couch. Their home was a happy one, so different from my own.
My mother’s indifference and my father’s misery created a fog of discomfort I found suffocating. The Hassan’s house became like home to me.
She used to hug me, scold me, and treated me like a son. I find myself looking forward to seeing her when she gets back. If I’m still here. Part of me is sure as soon as Milly wakes up and is strong enough she’ll send me packing.
Pushing the thought aside, I go back to my makeshift desk in her living room and get ready for my call. I only have four hours before I need to get Anthony from school and I'm desperate to go for a run before that.
I glance up the stairs. Last time I checked on Milly was to have her take her pain medication. Knowing she's upstairs and that I'm taking care of her gives me a sense of contentment. I get to work with a smile on my face.