Chapter 3

Alex

A s per usual, after rowing I checked in with Steve when I got to the office. He had probably already been in for an hour. It seemed like all he did was work.

“You look better,” was the first thing out of his mouth. Scratch what I said: it really seemed like all he did was work and worry about me.

“I rowed. I slept well,” I explained. I didn’t feel I needed to tell him why I had slept so well.

“Dad called yesterday after you left.” Steve paused for a minute in case I wanted to explain why I had taken off early, but I did not. “He wanted to talk about selling the house up north. He wants to put it on the market soon, get someone to take it before the summer.”

Our father had moved to Arizona with wife #3 (our mom had been #1). He was living on a golf course with my stepmother Courtney (who was Steve’s age) and our stepsisters, both under the age of five. We rarely saw any of them, but Courtney did always send a beautiful Christmas card. Seemed like my dad had a good thing going with them down there.

“I told him I’d take care of selling it,” Steve continued. “I don’t think we have much personal stuff there anymore, but it probably needs to be spruced up, checked to see if we need to do any repairs. Not a big deal. Maybe I’ll drive up this weekend.”

“Why don’t I do it?” I heard myself saying, then realized I did want to get away.

Steve immediately went into concerned brother mode. “Have you driven that far alone since the accident? I don’t think you have. Do you think you’d be all right there on your own? Could you handle taking care of everything? It could be a big job.”

“You just finished saying it wouldn’t be a big deal. I’m not going to fall apart up there, ok?” He thought I would sit alone and drink again, probably. I paused. “Maybe I’ll bring a friend.”

That kicked off more alarms for him. “A friend? Do I know him? Someone from college?”

“You know I don’t hang out with those guys anymore.” A few of my college friends had pulled themselves together and led productive lives, but most of them were still just partiers. Pretty “toxic,” as I’d learned in rehab. Really, we had never been friends. Just partners in getting wasted.

Steve was the picture of anxiety, pulling his lip between his finger and thumb, shifting in his chair. “Maybe we could go together. ”

“Maybe you could trust me a little.” I stared at him. “Eight years on Monday, right? I haven’t slipped, not once.”

“It’s not the drinking,” he said, and I snorted. “Ok,” he amended, “it’s not just the drinking. I worry about you physically driving so far, with your headaches, and sometimes you don’t seem to focus.”

“All true. So I’ll bring a friend.”

Steve fidgeted. “Well, maybe we should talk about it a little more. Maybe this weekend wouldn’t be good anyway.”

“Fine. Let me know when you want me to go.” I turned and walked out of his office, calling over my shoulder, “And tell Dad that I’ll take care of it.”

∞

Cecilia wasn’t at work when I went down in the afternoon, and I asked the guy at the counter about her.

He got a huge grin on his face. “She was only here until two today. Want to leave a message?” The other girl quickly walked over, and both of them waited hopefully.

“No, no message. Just black coffee, please.” They looked very disappointed.

While the guy got my coffee, the other girl watched me. “What’s going on with you and Cecilia?” she asked me.

“Nothing really.” How slowly could someone fill a cup?

“She’s our good friend. She’s like my big sister.”

I nodded. The counter guy was slowly putting on a lid .

“Jason and I think she’s awesome, right, Jase?”

Finally, the coffee. I put a five on the counter. “Keep the change,” I told them as I took off. I swore I could feel their eyes burning holes into my skull.

I wondered what Cecilia did with her days when she wasn’t at the coffee shop. She had mentioned the Y. Growing up on a boat, she was probably a good swimmer. Her childhood sounded crazy. She talked about her mom in such a loving way, but the woman sounded like a deadbeat to me. If I read between the lines, Cecilia had been the one in charge when she got old enough—probably well before she was old enough. Her mom hadn’t even bothered to educate her only child.

I walked over the Y and checked out the pool, and ended up joining. I wasn’t looking for Cecilia, I told myself. Just checking to make sure it was safe. Looked pretty good to me, so I went back to the office.

At five on the dot I cut out of work, and left the garage door open when I got home. I had stopped at the market again and bought a huge amount of food, which led to a text from Steve checking to see why I needed to spend $200 there and then another $50 at the health food store next door. I told him I was getting ready for the trip.

Soon enough, I heard the ugly van thunder into the garage, then Cecilia’s light feet on the stairs. “I’m home!” she called when she came in. “Alex?”

That sounded nice. “In here,” I answered from the kitchen, where I had been putting away the food.

“Wow!” she commented when she came in. “Did you leave anything on the shelves at the store?” She started to help me put away groceries, and in the small condo kitchen we bumped into each other at almost every step. Cecilia started to laugh. “May I have this dance?” She put her hand on my shoulder, reaching up high, and held out the other one.

All I could look at was her mouth. Her beautiful smile with her soft, pink lips. The smile that was slowly fading as I didn’t respond, and then she let her hand slide from my shoulder. I shook myself. “What did you do today? I went in to get a coffee, and the guy there said you were done early.”

“That’s my friend Jason, isn’t he nice?” She was arranging the new boxes of pasta in the pantry. “I’m only there until two on Wednesdays.” I noticed that she hadn’t answered my question, but as someone who had his movements pretty well scrutinized, I left her alone. “What about you? Tell me exactly what you do at work!”

So I talked to her about Whitaker Enterprises, and my miniscule role there. “My dad started the company,” I explained, “but he stepped back about five years ago and sold out his interest to my brother and me. Stephen, my brother, is the CEO/CFO, and I’m an employee.”

“I thought you said your dad sold it to your brother and you too,” Cecilia said. “So don’t you have an equity stake?”

My eyes widened. “What do you know about equity stakes?”

She shrugged. “I took a business class at a community college when I lived in Nashville.”

“Well, to answer your question, Whitaker Enterprises is an LLC, a limited liability company. My brother is the general partner, and I’m the limited partner. But I’m not really a partner in the business, in any real sense. ”

Cecilia looked at me. “Why not?”

I stopped folding up the paper grocery bags. “It’s a long story.”

“I have nothing but time,” she said, and started to take out things that I had just put away. “I’ll make steaks! I haven’t had red meat in so long, my mouth is watering thinking about it. Sit down on the barstool and tell me.”

I gave her an abbreviated version. Car accident, head injury. I was in a rehab hospital for months, then in intensive occupational, physical, and speech therapy for more than a year after that. I couldn’t handle going back to classes, the stress of all the reading and test taking. That meant no more college, no MBA. I looked at my hands while I told her, wondering if the left one would shake, and when I glanced up, I saw that she had tears running down her face.

“Alex!” she said, then ran around through the door to hug me.

With me sitting on the barstool, we fit together perfectly. I was immobile at first, but gradually I relaxed until my chin was resting on her shoulder, my arms loosely encircling her tiny waist. How long had it been since I had physical contact like this? I had to admit, it felt good.

She was rubbing my back. “So that’s why you get headaches and don’t like reading! Oh, I’m so glad you’re ok! I’m so glad!” She hugged me tighter.

Cecilia smelled so good, but there was something else—“I think the steaks are burning,” I said, and she leaped away.

“Shit!”

Despite a slight char on the meat, the dinner was delicious. Cecilia ate every bite on her plate: steak, salad, and bread. She even popped open the top button on her jeans to fit more in, after asking if I minded. It was truly an amazing thing to watch it all disappearing into her small body. Finally she was done, and when I looked down at my own plate, I realized I had cleaned it too.

“Deeelicious,” Cecilia pronounced. “I’ve heard that in some cultures, it’s polite to burp to show your appreciation.” She looked at me expectantly.

“Not in the culture of this condo,” I told her. I got up to clear the table. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“In the galley on the Essex ,” she answered. “It was really a great learning experience, because it was so small and most of the time at least one appliance was broken. And my mom wasn’t much into meal planning, so until I took over buying our food, opening the cupboards was always a crapshoot. Cooking in here is awesome!” She gestured around the small kitchen. “Especially when you do the shopping and cleaning up!”

I finished loading the dishwasher and turned to find her rooting through the bag from the health food store. “Wow, this is a lot!” she marveled. “Are you going to use all of this? Did you get the valerian to help you sleep? Do you have insomnia?”

I took the bottle from her and lined it up with the other products. “How do you know about all this gear, essential oils and valerian?”

“Well, my mom doesn’t really believe in western medicine. I’m pretty lucky I was born in a hospital! We did a lot of holistic stuff instead of, you know… ”

“Scientific stuff?”

“I think there’s a place for both,” she told me.

I thought of all the amazing things that western medicine had done from me. Basically, it had brought me back from the dead. “What if you got really sick? What did you do then?”

“Oh, I hardly ever get sick,” she declared. “Once I broke my arm, but it was when I lived with Carolina in Costa Rica, and she took me right to the doctor. The medical doctor. And when I lived in Miami, I got myself all vaccinated. I’m good to go!”

“Where does your mom live? Is she still sailing around?”

“No, no, not anymore. I think she’s in California.”

“You think? You’re not in contact anymore?” It made me think of my own mom.

“She’s really a free spirit. She’s always moving around. But if something goes wrong, she’ll call her friend Paulo in New York. And he has my cell number, so he’ll call me.”

That pissed me off. A lot. “And what if something goes wrong with you? How are you supposed to get a hold of her?”

Cecilia paused, then tilted her head and said, “Nothing ever happens to me. I’m very self-sufficient.”

That was a load of crap, a total load of crap. Her mom sounded like a real piece of work.

“Want to hear more of the book?” she asked, leading the way into the living room. She arranged herself on the couch, then leapt back up. “Wait a minute. If you’re having trouble sleeping, I’m going to bring up my lavender pillow! It’s not very fragrant anymore, but I still think it will help.” A minute later she had me laid out on the coach with my head resting on a small, pokey pillow. It made a scratchy noise that sounded loud in its proximity to my ears. “Do you smell it?” she asked.

“Is my head going to reek like a flower patch or something?”

“You’ll smell delicious!” Cecilia told me.

It did smell pretty nice. Faint, but nice. I let my mind drift as I listened to her voice instead of focusing on the words and the story. I was really loving the sound of it. When she paused to yawn, I told her to get to bed. “Thanks for reading to me. I’m getting up early to row tomorrow, so let yourself out when you need to. I’ll write down the garage code for you.” She nodded at me, her big brown eyes watching me as I stood.

“Goodnight, Alex. Take the pillow, ok?”

It was only later, as I lay with my head on her scratchy pillow, that I realized I was planning on leaving Cecilia alone in my house in the morning, giving her the code to get back into the garage. That I planned to see her the next day, the next night. I had known her name for what, for two days? What did that say about my judgement? If I told Steve, he would go crazy. I comforted myself with the knowledge that there was very little to steal in my condo. And she didn’t seem like a thief to me.

∞

Before my accident, and in ironic contrast to my penchant for destroying my liver, I had loved to exercise. I skied, I biked. I played every sport I could. After the crash in the rehab hospital, when putting one foot in front of the other had been an issue, I had dreamed of getting out and running for miles.

I had been a rower in high school, and that was what I had decided to go back to. At least four times a week, I got up early, and went down to the Detroit River to scull. I had skipped on the anniversary of my crash, and that had been a mistake. I almost always felt better after being out on the water. Once in the boat I could let go, my mind drifting as I focused only on the physical exertion. It was when I was on my way to work afterwards that I realized I had felt the same way, relaxed and calm, when I was listening to Cecilia read to me. I wondered what she was up to, and then told myself that I was not going to get coffee that morning. I needed a little space to figure out what I was doing.

I was concerned, really concerned, that I wasn’t being rational in how I was behaving. I wasn’t being normal. It made me feel better, in a way, that I was questioning myself—if my judgment was really that poor, would I wonder if it was? It sounded like an issue for Intro to Philosophy. I thought that maybe I should use someone as a sounding board to talk about this, though. Steve, with his tendency to go ape-shit, was not the person. When I got back to my office, showered and changed, I thought it over a little more and called Dr. Mavromatis, and his receptionist fit me in at one. He was at least an impartial observer. I got next to nothing done; once, after a phone call, I looked down and realized I had been sketching the shape of Cecilia’s face without even thinking about it. Going to the doctor seemed like an even better idea.

I had to tell Steve that I was taking off. It didn’t seem fair to skip out early twice in a week, and this time I told him why.

He swelled with concern. “Are you doing ok? Did something happen? ”

“You should look at this as a positive,” I told him. “This is the first time I’ve made a therapy appointment of my own free will.”

“But why?” he asked, then held up his hands in surrender. “Boundaries. Right.”

“Right,” I told him.

Dr. Mavromatis didn’t seem surprised to see me again so soon. It shocked the hell out of me that I had voluntarily gone to his office for the second time in a week, but he had a great poker face. “Ok,” I began, “I want to present a scenario to you, and I’d like your opinion. I don’t want to do some Socratic Method thing, I just want an answer.”

“So, you don’t want me to respond with a question?” he asked.

My mouth dropped a little. “Is that a joke?”

“It was. I couldn’t help myself. Please, go ahead with your scenario.”

“Let’s say someone—me, I—met a woman. She works at a place I’ve gone to a lot, not a strip club or anything, a coffee shop.” I rubbed my forehead. I was getting bogged down in the details. “Anyway, she needed a place to stay. She didn’t ask me for a place, I just offered it to her.” I paused. Hearing it out loud, I sounded like an idiot who had been scammed.

“Was this to have a sexual encounter? I’m not judging, I just want to understand.”

I reeled back. “No! No, I wasn’t trying to have sex. And I’m sure she doesn’t want to have sex with me. Anyway, then I invited her to stay a second night. She cooked dinner and she read to me. Again, no sex. And I gave her my garage code. I need to drive up north soon and I’m thinking of asking her to come.”

“Platonically?”

“I thought no questions? But yes, platonically,” I concluded, and waited for his response.

He grimaced. “I’m sorry, I’m going to need to ask a few more things. Has she abused your trust in any way? Taken advantage of staying with you?”

“No, not that I know of. I don’t think she’s like that. I guess she could be at my house cleaning it out as we speak, but I don’t think so.”

“So, what are you asking me?” Dr. Mavromatis said.

I signed impatiently. “I just want to know if I should go with my gut or not.”

“And your gut is saying what?”

“That Cecilia and I…that she’s a good person. That we get along, I don’t know.”

“That you could be friends, in other words.”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Have you retained many friends from before your accident?” he asked. I shook my head no. “And have you made many since?”

“I have lunch sometimes with some of the guys I row with. But no, I wouldn’t say we were friends. ”

“How about your brother? Although, from what you’ve said, he takes a somewhat paternal role.”

I laughed a little. “Yeah, somewhat.” I thought. “I guess I don’t have any friends. Am I grasping at straws with her? Because I’m lonely?”

“Are you lonely?” he asked.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was totally, crushingly lonely. I took a deep breath.

Dr. Mavromatis was watching me. “Let me ask you this: do you think your accident was a result of your poor judgment?”

“Absolutely,” I told him.

“How many poor decisions have you made since then?” he asked.

I thought. “Nothing big. Nothing sticks out to me. But I also haven’t put myself in a position to make a lot of big decisions. Steve is that guy for me.”

“That’s a profound thing to recognize about yourself and your brother,” Dr. Mavromatis said. He looked at me for a moment. “You want to trust yourself here.”

I nodded. “I’m just not sure if I should. If I talk to Steve, he’ll say no. But she’s…” I trailed off. “So what should I do?”

“Sometimes when making a decision, it’s helpful to look at the worst possible outcomes.”

I thought about it. She could be a serial killer, but there were no indicators, like an excess of bumper stickers. “I guess the worst possible outcome is that she’s actually a jerk, and then I’d tell her to fuck off, I guess. Sorry for swearing. ”

“I’ve heard it before. Well, if you’re asking me—that’s another joke, sorry—then I would say, try to take things slowly, as you’re just stepping back into forming relationships. But I think you can trust your gut.”

I was shocked. “Really?”

He nodded.“Really.”

I went back to work, avoiding Steve and his anxious attitude, and stopped to get a cup of coffee too, but Cecilia wasn’t there. Her two curious co-workers actually handed me a pen and paper to get me to leave a note for her, but again, I declined. I would see her for dinner.

I left right at five, hurrying home. When I got back to my condo, the garage was closed, and the van wasn’t parked in it. She didn’t come back that night, and the lavender pillow did nothing to help me sleep as I worried about her in her stupid van, Nina, parked in some bad neighborhood. When I finally nodded off, I had a nightmare about someone setting the van on fire, with her inside. Maybe this was the worst possible outcome that Dr. Mavromatis was talking about. You cared about someone, and she got hurt.

Cecilia

I knew exactly what was going on with me. When I was at work on Thursday morning, instead of focusing on making good coffee and customer service and ways to make Keri do her job, I was thinking about Alex. I was watching the door, wondering when he would come in, and when he didn’t, I was so unhappy .

I had a major crush on him, and I was much too old for things like that. Time for a dose of maturity! I thought it would be best to give him a little break from me, and me a break from picking our kids’ names. I would park somewhere else that night. Breathing room would do the trick. Problem solved!

Keri came in late, as usual, with her ultra-thin laptop and a giant shopping bag. “Nadine, Cecilia, I need to talk to you guys. Please come to my office.”

“Um, Keri, someone needs to stay out here, because of the register,” I reminded her. “And her name is Neveah.”

“Oh, yeah. Hold on.” She went into her tiny office, and Neveah and I listened to a lot of bumping and thumping.

“I hate that fucking office,” Keri snapped when she came out. “There’s no room! Stupid chair. Oh, by the way, it’s broken now, so someone should get it out of there for me. Ok, Nicole, Cecilia, this is very important. Harrison is coming in to taste cakes with me, and we all need to be on our best behavior.” She looked at us, and Neveah and I looked at each other. Huh?

“Sure, Keri,” Neveah said. “We always try our best, right, Cec?”

“Sure, Keri,” I repeated. “Is there something in particular that you’re worried about?”

She busied herself stacking some invoices, which I knew she hadn’t paid. I had left them on her chair so that she couldn’t miss them. “I just want Harrison to see that this is a well-run business. That I’m in charge.”

Neveah and I looked at each other again. “Sure, Keri,” I repeated .

“Good. You may return to your positions.”

“What is she talking about?” Neveah whispered to me.

“No idea. Just look like you’re working hard. And get Smokey’s bagel ready, it’s almost time for his snack.”

Harrison came swaggering in about an hour later. Keri had spent the entire time taking delicate cake slices from little white boxes in her shopping bag and artfully arranging the them on plates. I had tried to interrupt to ask about the invoices, but she ignored me to focus on artistic fork placement. A well-run business—sure!

Harrison was handsome, but a little short for my taste. I was realizing more and more that I liked tall guys. Plus, Harrison had dark hair, and that just wasn’t so attractive to me.

“Babe!” Keri called when he came in. “I guess if you’re here I can take a break from all the work I’ve been doing. Natasha, Cecilia, can you two handle it if I’m not there with you for a few minutes?”

Neveah stood frozen, and I was afraid she was going to start laughing. “We can handle things for a little while.” I tried to smile at Keri but I think I just bared my teeth.

We sneakily watched as she fed Harrison bites of each of the cakes, cooing and giggling at what he said. Then they started kissing. Honestly, it was enough to make me retch a little, and I had a very strong stomach from all those years on the Caribbean Sea. She ended up sitting in his lap while he groped her. The customers were watching with wide eyes and Neveah looked a little traumatized. Keri in sexy mode was pretty scary! But I had walked in on a tantric workshop when I was 13, and nothing about sex could gross me out too much after seeing all that .

“Natalie?” Keri called. “Can you bring Harrison a glass of water? He’s had so much sugar,” she purred at him, and leaned down and literally licked his lips. Two customers got up and left and Neveah looked ready to vomit.

“I’ll take this one,” I told her, and filled a glass.

“God damn it!” Keri said, then caught herself. “Oopsie, I got some frosting on my sweater! I’ll be right back, babe.”

I put the glass down in front of Harrison. “Cecilia, or Natalie?” he asked me.

“I’m Cecilia. She’s Neveah,” I explained. “Can I get you something else?”

“Your number?” He flashed me a toothy smile.

“Keri already has it,” I told him. The grinning monkey.

Finally, he left, and after a while, Keri did too, to go get a facial, leaving us a pile of crumpled cake boxes and a ton of dishes to bus. “This cake looks good,” Neveah said wistfully. “They only ate a little bite off each one.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere near it if Harrison’s nasty mouth was on it!” I told her. “I get the feeling that mouth has been around.” But that cake did look good. Maybe I would bake a cake for—

Nope. I was not going to think about Alex! I was taking a break, I reminded myself.

“Do you ever want to get married? I mean, you get to have all this cake!” Neveah said.

It was true. “Someday. If I meet the right person. I used to think our chakras would have to align, but now I just want someone who will sing in the car with me. Know what I mean?”

Neveah was nodding vigorously. “You want someone who will let you be you. I get you.”

I could picture it: the farmhouse, and the barn, and my horse and the pigmy goats, and Alex and all our kids. We would have at least four, and name our first daughter Claudia after From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler because that was the best book!

Oh, lordy. I was giving myself a break from naming our kids, wasn’t I?

So, when I finished work, rather than pushing my van as hard as it would go north to Royal Oak, instead I decided to follow up on some leads I had uncovered at the Detroit Public Library the day before. I drove to the address I’d found on Canfield, and knocked softly on the door. The house looked a little run-down, but not too bad.

There was a little movement in the curtains, so I knocked again, and called, “Hello? I’m not selling anything, or trying to make you convert to anything! I’m looking for Virginia Eubank?”

Again, I saw a little movement, but no one came to the door. I opened up my bag and pulled out my notebook, leaving the same note I had left on a bunch of houses before:

Hi Mrs. Eubank, My name is Cecilia Byrne. I’m looking for a man named Roger Trelles. If you know him, or are a relative of his, could you please call me at the number below? I promise, I’m not trying to get money from him, or you, and I’m not a cop, I just need to find him. Thank you!! !

I had left the notes, but I hadn’t gotten any calls yet. That was ok. All I needed was one person.

I went back to the library, and read online about brain injuries. I wrote out a list of questions to ask Alex, if he didn’t feel like it was too personal. He seemed to go silent sometimes, and was very good at changing the subject. Then I went to the Y and swam for a long, long time. I stopped counting laps and let my mind go. My thoughts drifted back to reading to Alex. He had closed his eyes, and his handsome face looked so relaxed and peaceful. And I had felt that way too. I didn’t think it was just the security of knowing I had somewhere safe to sleep, my tummy full of the delicious food he had bought.

It was getting dark when I left the Y. I had waited too long. I drove around to my usual spots, feeling uncomfortable about each one, and finally killed the engine under a streetlight where I had parked before and knew I wouldn’t get rousted out. I made myself a PB&J, reading a book I got from the library while I ate it. I should have been tired after so much swimming, and although my muscles were, my mind didn’t seem to be! I turned on my flashlight and read a little more, then drifted off to a half-sleep.

It didn’t seem like too much later that I heard the scratching noise, and I knew right away what it was. Someone was trying to jimmy the lock of the side door of the van. As quietly as I could, I crawled out of the sleeping bag, my heart pounding in fear. Then I got myself into the driver’s seat and turned the key and threw it into drive. I left a patch, I pulled out of there so fast. I spent the rest of the night driving up and down the freeways, super jittery and trying to settle myself down. That part was definitely the worst thing about my van. Definitely.

Friday morning, I was not really at my best. When I finally parked the van to go to work, I saw that the screwdriver was still stuck in the lock of the door! It was really upsetting. I pulled it out with a napkin and threw it away.

Jason started singing right when I walked in, but I waved my hand at him. I wasn’t up to it quite yet. He came in the back room as I put my bag into my cubby. “Guess who came to see you again yesterday?” he asked me.

“Who?” I waited with bated breath, just like in a book. Time away from Alex had really not solved the whole crush issue.

“Your tall boy with the scar. He asked where you were.”

I could feel a smile start to break over my face. “He did?”

“Yes, ma’am. Nev and I tried to get him to leave a message for you again, but he took off.”

I tied on my black apron. “Well, that makes my morning a whole lot better. Thank you, Jason!” Why fight the tide? Hanging out with Alex made me happy, and he seemed to like me too. I didn’t have to give into my crush, but at least we could be friends and I could be around him. The next time Jason started singing, I joined in.

When we had a break between customers, I pulled out my research from my bag. The first page was my family tree, with my name at the bottom, and branching up were my mom, and my dad. Or, my possible dad. I was pretty sure, though, I had narrowed it down to this guy. My grandparents on my mom’s side I knew with certainty. I had seen their actual graves when I drove through Connecticut. I had found a great-great-aunt on my mom’s side out that way, but she had been in a nursing home, and wasn’t really able to converse. I still sent her cards, and I thought the nurses could read them to her. Besides this aunt, my mom’s side had come up empty.

My dad’s side was a mystery. I had found all kinds of possible relatives, if, in fact, my dad was who I thought he was. I pulled out that list and wrote next to “Virginia Eubank, Canfield, Detroit”: “Left note on Thurs. 3/23. ????” I pondered my next steps. There were four more Eubanks in Detroit who were possibilities, now that I had found this possible branch of the family.

My next problem was where to live. Even I had to admit, three times was a charm as far as car break-ins went. The first one had been scary, the second one worse because there were a bunch of guys around the car, and the third one last night had been the closest to success for the thief. Maybe the next time they would be faster, or I wouldn’t be so quick to wake up. In any case, I didn’t think my poor nerves could handle it! There was always the possibility of leaving for a safer place. Safer places usually meant two things: 1. A scarcity of places to park an old van overnight and 2. A lot of police to make you leave those places and possibly arrest you and seize your van and leave you with court costs and tickets and impound fees. Not the way I wanted things to go. I could try rural, which I had done in the past. Somehow, I always felt safer with people around me when I was sleeping al fresco. But the situation was a little untenable so I was going to have to suck it up, buttercup, and move on to less populated, well, pastures.

Or…I could get a dog! A really mean one, but nice to me, that would bark and scare away would-be thieves. Yes! Why hadn’t I thought of this before? He could stay in the van while I worked, and I would go out on my breaks to walk him. I loved animals, and it was the perfect solution!

“Cecilia? I’ll get her,” I heard Jason say loudly and slowly. My head whipped up and I saw Alex. “Cecilia,” Jason continued in his kindergarten teacher voice, “why don’t you take your break now? I am fine to watch the counter alone.”

“Thank you, Jason,” I told him, matching his volume.

Alex was grinning at us. “Your friend is so subtle,” he said, as I led the way to a table. “I came in yesterday and they were very excited.”

“Not a lot happens in a coffee shop,” I told him. “You get your jollies where you can.”

We sat looking at each other. I wove my fingers together in my lap so I wouldn’t succumb to the urge to touch him somehow. Then I saw that his hand was shaking a little, his left hand. He followed my eyes to it, then pushed it down flat on the table. “I get tremors sometimes,” he explained.

Well, if there was ever an invitation to hold hands with someone, that was it! I picked up his hand from the table, holding it between both my palms against my cheek. “There,” I told him.

Alex was staring, watching his own hand between mine. His tremors stilled slowly. Then he met my eyes. “Where did you sleep last night?” he asked.

“New Center. Hey, do you like dogs?”

He raised his eyebrow, and gently disengaged his hand from mine. I missed it.

“I guess I like dogs. Why?”

“I’m thinking of getting a dog. Well, catching a dog. You know that thing, about putting salt on a bird’s tail? Does that work for other animals, too? ”

“I’m totally lost,” he admitted. “You want to catch a bird or a dog? Where does salt come in?”

“I want to get a dog, to sleep in the van with me. I was thinking there are a lot of stray dogs, and they have such horrible lives. I could take one, and it could live with me. The salt thing was just a way to catch it but it would probably just piss it off if I was shaking salt on its tail. I don’t even think that’s true about birds, anyway, so I’m sure it’s not for dogs either.”

“A stray dog. You want to catch a stray dog.”

“I think I would feel safer,” I said, then I told him about the screwdriver.

Talk about getting pissed! Alex’s whole face flushed. “That’s it. You’re coming home with me, right now!” He stood up and pushed back his chair. “Let’s go!”

I certainly didn’t like being ordered around—not until that moment, anyway. My goodness, my heart was all a-flutter! “I can’t go now, I’m working!”

“Oh, that’s right.” He calmed down a little. “What time are you done?”

“Five.”

“I’ll see you at my house at six. Got it? Six.”

I saluted. “Yes, sir. Hey, were you ever in the military?”

Then Alex sat back down, and leaned over to me, taking my face in his hands. “I mean it, ok, Cecilia? Meet me at my house?”

I melted. “I will. At six. ”

He nodded at me. “Six.”

∞

I was at his house at 5:45, but I felt very strange about opening the garage on my own. I mean, he had given me the code and everything, but I felt like it was an invasion of his privacy. I remembered what he had said about being done with roommates.

I had bought a bag of sugar and a bag of flour at the discount store on my way out to Alex’s house and I was planning on doing some baking with all the apples he already had. I was going through my recipe box and was so engrossed that I nearly had a heart attack when he knocked on the van’s sunset side. I screamed, just a little.

“Cecilia? It’s me, it’s Alex. Are you ok?”

I unlocked the back door and swung it open. “Just jumpy. Want to come in?”

Alex leaned in and looked around.

My van looked a little bohemian, but it was very neat and organized, like a stateroom on a boat. You had to have your shit together in a small space.

“I’m sitting in the saloon, the living room,” I told him. “That’s my sleeping bag, see how thick it is? My books are here, with the bungee cord holding them on the shelf.”

“What’s that?” he asked, and peered inside more closely. His eyes were on the magnetic board on the wall next to my sleeping bag. “Wait a minute, I drew that!”

Oops. “Sometimes you left your drawings at the coffee shop and I picked them up,” I explained lamely .

“I threw them away,” he said. “Did you dumpster dive for my drawings?”

“They’re so beautiful!” I defended myself. “I saw you drawing one day, and it was so nice, and then you just tossed it. I couldn’t believe it, so I got it out. Then, I just…I just kept doing it. I’m going to frame them. I hope you don’t mind.”

Alex was shaking his head. “They’re junk. Trash. That’s why I threw them away. Pull into the garage,” he called over his shoulder as he walked into the house.

My cheeks burning, I crawled up into the front seat and pulled the van in to park. I went up into the living room, but I didn’t see Alex, so I thought I’d start on dinner. “I hope you don’t mind eating late,” I called to him, not knowing if he could hear me. “I feel like making stew and cornbread muffins, and a pie, but it’s going to take a while.” He didn’t answer, so feeling like a total stooge, I cut up and browned the meat, then chopped and added the vegetables, broth, and spices. I turned to see Alex at the pass-through. “Holy moly, you’re like a cat or something!”

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Can you peel and cut apples? I’m making a pie. It’s a really simple crust, from my mom’s friend Esmerelda in the Turks and Caicos. She was a little odd, into obeah, but she could really bake. Watch, it’s only four ingredients!”

We had the pie assembled lickety-split and I gave the stew another stir and started on the muffins.

“You’re like a whirlwind in the kitchen,” he told me.

“Well, I like to eat. Don’t you? ”

“When you’re done, I have something to show you in the living room.”

I moved faster than ever and threw the muffins in the oven.

He had a big folder on the table where we ate. A portfolio. “What is this?” I asked.

Alex slid some paper out. “I used to do some drawing and painting. Here.” He gestured at it, and I picked up the top sheet, and then looked at the next.

“Alex!” I was almost speechless, a real rarity for me. “These are…this is…just, oh my god. Wow, Alex!”

His face was impassive. “You can have any of these, if you want. You don’t need to keep that crud you have in your van.”

“I can’t take any of this!” I held up a drawing of an angry wave, just one on the page. It felt like it would come off the paper and sweep over me. “You should be a professional artist!”

“No. Real estate development was always the life for me.” He pointed at the wave. “That’s Lake Michigan. Have you seen the Great Lakes yet?”

I nodded. “Lake Erie, just the very tip. Wait, why don’t you draw like this anymore? Can you still?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I do a little sometimes, as you know. Sometimes when I’m not thinking about it, I’ll cover a whole page. Let’s put this away if you don’t want anything.”

“Wait! It’s not that I don’t want them, it’s that they’re too nice! You should frame these pieces, all of them, and hang them on your walls. I can’t put them in my van! ”

The timer dinged to turn the muffins in the oven. I went to the kitchen, and when I came back he had cleared away the portfolio.

I ate like a maniac and Alex put away one piece of pie and took another. “This is delicious,” he said. “Lucky I’m going rowing tomorrow or my pants wouldn’t fit.”

That was not correct. He was too thin, in my eyes. “What do you mean, rowing?” I asked him, and he explained the whole sculling thing. I had spent quite a bit of time rowing from our boat to land, but this was a little more refined.

Alex scraped the last bit of pie off his plate. “I don’t know the last time I ate this much.”

“Thanksgiving with your family?” I pictured a big table with lots of people smiling and a huge turkey, but he was shaking his head.

“My brother and I went out to eat. It was pretty good, but nothing like this.”

“What about your parents? You didn’t have Thanksgiving with them? Are they still together?”

“My dad lives with his new wife and kids, my half-sisters, in Arizona. I’m not close with my mom. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Why?”

He half-smiled at me. “You’re curious.”

“You don’t have to tell me. Hey, are you still mad that I stole your drawings?”

“Stole them? No, of course I’m not mad. I just didn’t like to think of you digging through the trash for that crap.”

“They’re not crap…” I started to protest, but he shook his head, and I finished my pie in silence. Before I could get up to start to get the dishes, he cleared his throat.

“I don’t want you to go back out to sleeping in Nina. It makes me very worried.”

My cheeks were burning. “I know I should get an apartment, or a room, but I’m really trying to save my money so I can drive out west. I don’t make that much at the coffee shop.”

“I understand that.” He hesitated. “You could stay here, if you wanted, until you leave for California.”

“Really? You don’t mind having a roommate?”

He shook his head. “I don’t mind you as a roommate.”

My heart swelled up with happiness. “I can pay you—” but he cut me off.

“No, you can’t, because I won’t take it. You can keep cooking dinners like this, and we’ll call it even.”

“Thank you, Alex.” I got up and kissed him on his cheek. Oooh, he smelled good. Then, I suddenly felt a little shy, which was not an emotion I had very often. I sat back in my seat and smiled at him. “It’s true, you really do need a cook.”

He smiled back at me. Wow, he could sell me the Brooklyn Bridge with a smile like that. “I’ll clean up,” he said. “Why don’t you read or something?”

I curled up on the couch with a new library book, but after not sleeping much the night before, I must have conked out. I woke up with someone picking me up, and it scared me .

“It’s ok, it’s me,” Alex’s voice said. I’d never been carried, or not since I was a baby, probably. My mom was too small herself to pick up another person. So I cuddled up into Alex and enjoyed being so close to him while it lasted, until he put me down on the bed in the guest room. He stood over me for a minute, then left on his noiseless feet.