“Maybe when you get back,” I say to appease her.
The feeble promise works. Mom’s face brightens, as if dating is the solution to all problems in life.
“How do I look?” she asks, fluffing out her hair in the mirror.
“Beautiful,” I say honestly, my chest warming as I study her pretty features in the reflection.
“Come on,” she says. “Martin will be here any minute. Be a dear and give me a hand with that suitcase.”
I zip up the suitcase as she rambles about how much water each plant in the apartment needs and how often.
“Don’t worry.” I pick up the suitcase and swing an arm around her shoulders. “The apartment will still be standing and the plants will be green when you get back. I grew up here, remember?”
She grabs my face between her palms, pouting my lips. “Oh, I love you so much. What would I have ever done without you?” She jerks, dropping me like a hot potato when the doorbell rings. “Oh my gosh. That’s him.” Straightening her dress, she beelines for the door and throws it wide open.
Martin stands on the step, looking handsome in a pair of dark jeans and a white linen shirt. He trails an appreciative look over my mom before pulling her closer for a kiss.
“Oh my,” she says when he releases her after a kiss that lasted a few seconds too long to be considered publicly decent. “Would you like to come in? Do we have time for a drink?”
“We’d better get moving. I prefer to get there early. The flights are always overbooked.” He glances at me from over my mom’s shoulder. “Hi, Kate. How’s work?”
“Busy but good, thanks. You?”
“Great. We should all have dinner when we get back. My treat.”
“That sounds good,” I say, handing him my mom’s suitcase.
“Don’t forget your copy of the key,” Mom says to me. “You know the alarm code. What else? Did I forget anything?”
“Go.” I kiss her cheek, grinning at her childlike excitement. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
“Bye, honey.” She waves as Martin takes her arm and escorts her from her ground floor apartment to his car. “I’ll send a postcard,” she calls back.
“That’ll be great.” I lean in the frame, watching them load her suitcase into the trunk and get settled.
Like a gentleman, Martin secures my mother’s seatbelt before getting his own. She waves again through the passenger window. I lift a hand in return as Martin pulls off and weaves into the quiet, midday traffic. When they turn the corner, I drop my hand. Silence descends on the apartment. A bird chirps somewhere, but without my mom’s lively chatter, the apartment feels cold and empty. The weird sense of loss I’d felt when I left Alex’s house assaults me anew. I suddenly feel isolated, much like I’ve felt these past couple of days at work. Even surrounded by my colleagues and patients, I’ve had a sense of being alone and out of sorts.
Loneliness.
That’s what it was. That’s what it is right now.
Shaking it off, I go through the apartment and make sure all the windows are closed and the plants aren’t thirsty before I lock up and walk to the express bus stop. It’s not until I’m on the bus to Brooklyn, seated between a teenager and an elderly man, that I finally allow myself to think.
Despite what he did, I miss Alex. I miss what could’ve been, and I mourn that I’m missing out on the man who’d booked a whole restaurant just for me. I wish I’d gotten to know better the language of his face, the way his eyes crinkled when he found something amusing and how his gaze heated when he looked at me. The way his body hardened when he leaned against me. No matter how much I try, I can’t get those visions out of my head.
We only spent one night together, but it feels like I’m grieving a lifetime of could-have-beens.
I stare at the peeling clear polish on my nails. This has to stop. I have to pull myself together. So Alex isn’t who I hoped he was. Neither was Tony. It happens all the time. I’m not the first woman disappointed by a man. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Right?
Picking at the polish, I fish my phone from my pocket and dial Joanne. I have a few hours off tomorrow, and I can’t face staying home alone. Maybe I’m running from my thoughts and feelings, but they’re still too raw to analyze them deeply.
Joanne is busy, so we quickly agree on a time and place to meet for lunch tomorrow. When I hang up and lift my gaze, my eyes collide with a pair of brown ones. A man wearing a gray suit is standing in the aisle toward the front of the bus. He has bushy eyebrows and a square jaw. He holds my gaze for a second before looking away.