How am I supposed to respond to that?
I’m not being bitter. Can you think of a more appropriate fate for it?
She didn’t agree with his assessment.So the next person who finds it can sell it, instead of you?
Another pause. This one longer.You knew about that.
I guessed. She had hoped he wouldn’t confirm it. At least he hadn’t gone through with it though.I heard pieces of the conversation. You stood on the front porch while you talked to the guy.
Maybe the next person sells it. Maybe they burn it. Maybe they keep it and enjoy it for the classic art it is. Regardless, Nana touches at least one more life even after she’s gone. Makes someone else feel. And hell, it’ll drive historians nuts. Did Hemingway have another child? Didn’t he?
Are you going to pursue the truth yourself? If he’s really your grandfather...
No. If Nana moved on to keep her memories alive through us, I prefer them the way she shared them.
A sob welled in Bailey’s chest. It wasn’t all grief; some of it was knowing Jonathan finally got what Nana’s passing was about. Not that Bailey expected the mourning process to be over. This was a good start, though.
* * * *
IT HAD BEEN ALMOSTa month since Jonathan returned home from Florida. He settled back into his routine without hesitation, but it didn’t feel the same as before. Today was a good-news day, though. The kind of news that was worth champagne and a little bit of hurt. It was seven at night here, so it was ten for Bailey, but she’d still be up. He ignored how empty his condo felt. It was the same amount of populated as it had been since he moved in years ago. Furnished, top of the line electronics, stainless steel kitchen, and a single occupant.
He grabbed a glass of whiskey on the rocks and settled onto the couch. He sent Bailey a text.That real-estate agent you recommended is a genius. Closing on the house next week.Something about the sentence sat heavy in his gut.
Are you all right?
She was supposed to say it was awesome news, or congratulate him. What kind of question was that?Why wouldn’t I be?
It’s her house, and it’s gone now.
He tried to brush off her meaning, but it stuck to his heart.The house is still there. I just don’t own it now.
You know what I mean.
He coped in his own way.I’m dealing all right. Have a drink with me, to celebrate?
Of course.Her reply was followed by a photo of a glass that looked almost identical to his.
That was better.Cheers.
* * * *
SIX WEEKS SINCE JONATHANwent home. Bailey told herself she wasn’t counting the days because he was gone, but because the time coincided with her getting her cast off. She still had to remind herself it was okay now to scratch when the skin itched. She stood in front of the full-length mirror in her Atlanta hotel room, admiring the way her new black dress hugged her curves and ended just above the knees. Her arm looked a little odd, being paler than the rest of her, but it would be dark in the bar. No one would notice.
She grabbed her phone, snapped a picture, and sent it to Jonathan. She followed it up with,Hitting the clubs tonight.The texting was a nightly ritual. He offered to call, but she told him this was more fun. She held back the part about not wanting to hear his voice. She needed a little more time before they could talk without it making her homesick from her own living quarters.
Every eye in the room will be on you. His reply flushed her cheeks.Do you have some lucky bastard in mind, or is this a play-it-by-ear thing, to see who catches your attention?
She was trying to get back to life as it was, but had yet to find the desire for an anonymous fling.No guys tonight. Or girls. I’m going to dance and lose myself in the music.
Have fun.
The brief response made her frown, but not every conversation could be a lengthy discourse on the topic of the day. She typed,Wish you were here, then deleted it and sent him back a simpleThanks.
* * * *
THANK YOU FOR THE EARBUDS.Bailey’s message brought a smile to Jonathan’s face. He dropped his phone on the bed and switched it over to voice text. Almost two months, and she refused to talk via phone. He didn’t get it, but as long as the messages kept coming, he wouldn’t push the issue.
In case you want to lose yourself in the music, without going all the way to Atlanta,he said.Not that it should stop you.It washisproblem that envy snaked through him every time he thought about her grinding against other men. It would pass with time.