Tim Murphy - Christodora

“Sexy, fabulous, brilliant Auntie Mills,” Drew corrected. “A New York bohemian and a painter. Like Auntie Mame!”

“Now you’re setting the bar too high,” Milly said, sitting down. Erika kept on wailing. “Oh, come on now, shh, shh,” she said, smoothing back her tuft, “come on now, it’s okay.” Milly rocked her a bit until she quieted down. Her adorable face — like a ball of dough with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth pressed into it — went slack, dreamlike.

“Now you know why I dragged you in here!” Drew exclaimed.

So there it was, thought Milly. She and Drew were back on. After brunch and a walk, Drew sent Christian back to Brooklyn with the girls in a double stroller and she and Milly sat in a café to have a tea. There was a moment when Drew was looking up at the waitress to order her tea, one leg crossed over the other, and it occurred to Milly that she hadn’t seen Drew in so long, she’d forgotten how beautiful she was.

When the waitress left, Drew leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. “So you’re still at the Christodora? It’s yours?”

“It’s not mine,” Milly said. “Two years ago, his lawyer told me I had the option of staying there indefinitely, at least for the coming year or two, as long as I paid the maintenance. But it’s getting hard to pay. I think I’ll be moving into my parents’ place soon.”

“Would you ever consider moving to L.A.?” Drew asked. “Even just for half the year? Nobody should have to live through winter here.”

Milly laughed. “The winters here now are practically as warm as in L.A.!”

Drew’s eyes widened. “Everybody tells me that,” she says. “I guess I just haven’t really experienced it. That must be awfully weird, right?”

“It’s beyond weird. It’s so creepy. The world is falling apart. I’m glad we’re not long for it.”

“Millipede!” Drew exclaimed. “You are fifty, not eighty. Please take a break from here and come to L.A. and stay with us so I can introduce you to some guys. Or some girls. Just some fun dates for you!”

Milly recoiled. “Oh God, no, please!”

“Boaz!” Drew persisted. “You have to meet a guy named Boaz. Please, please come.”

“What about my father?”

“Can’t you leave him with a nurse for even a week?”

Milly didn’t like that idea. No doubt the minute she landed in L.A., the nurse would ping her to say that her father was back in the hospital. “I don’t know,” she said.

Drew just shrugged. “The invite’s open,” she said.

“Thank you,” Milly said before falling silent a moment. She was itching to ask Drew something but trying to hold on to enough pride not to ask her. Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Have you seen Mateo?”

“Umm,” Drew began, as though she were slowly turning to acknowledge the elephant in the room. “No, in fact. He knows he’s always welcome — he and his girlfriend. But other than a smiley face online once in a while, nothing.” Her mouth twisted ironically. “Mateo’s far too big for all of us now anyway. What about you?”

“Nothing,” Milly said quietly. “No contact.”

Drew absorbed this. “You do know. .?” she finally began.

“Know what?”

“That he’s going to be here in a few weeks? In New York. Working on a project for an underground park.”

This startled Milly. “No, I did not know that. How do you know it?”

“He posts it all over his feeds. He’s looking for a place to stay in New York.”

“Oh,” Milly said. “We’re not connected on there. All I see are a few pictures that aren’t private.”

The tea came, two separate little pots. Drew lightly traced the teapot handle with her finger. “Maybe now’s a good time to reach out to him.”

Even the thought of doing that filled Milly with humiliation. “I most certainly will not,” she said. “I vowed that day in L.A. he’d never hear from me again, if that’s what he wanted.”

Drew pursed her lips, looked down. “That kid pisses me off, Milly. Wait! Don’t get me started. It’s not my business.”

“It’s okay,” Milly said. “I know you know I’ve got a broken heart. That’s enough.”

Drew took Milly’s hand across the table.

Walking home, Milly felt lighter than she’d felt in a while. She wondered how she’d come to tell herself a bitter story about Drew in her head and let the past few years between them slip away. In the grocery, picking up a few things, she chatted longer than usual with the cashier lady before leaving.

Up in the apartment, she pulled up the vertical posts. Sure enough, she saw, he’d be working on the UnderPark, not ten minutes away from the Christodora. In the very same neighborhood he’d grown up in. After a week or two, Milly started wondering if he was in town yet. Then she read something on a vertical that made it clear he was in town. It appeared a reporter had actually gone up to him and asked him about his parents. And he’d said, “I think they needed a break from me.” And: “I really put them through it.”

You’re right about that last line, bud, she thought ruefully. But as for the needing-a-break line, she wanted to shout back: You needed the break from me. At least be honest with yourself .

Still, Milly couldn’t get it out of her head that he was so nearby. When she ran errands in the neighborhood, she was terrified she’d somehow run into him. Then the day came when she put on her floppy-brimmed hat and large sunglasses and walked down to the site for the UnderPark. Of course the entrance was guarded and cordoned off to the public. Inside a deli across the street, she sat on a stool near the window, nursing an iced tea and feeling like a fool. She scrutinized every person who came and went past the guards.

Finally, she saw the guy, Char, the transgender black man whom she knew he worked with, come out, wiping his hands on a rag. Char turned back around, said something, and a moment later, right behind Char, there he was. Oh my goodness, Milly thought, there he was. Twenty-eight years old now! Oh, look at him! So lean and fit, his arms covered in tattoos. So he worked out now. Not that skinny dopesick kid she remembered, the kid she used to lose sleep over. So handsome, so healthy! With a red bandanna tied around his head, just like how he wore it the year he finally became a skater boy. Her hands flew to her lips watching him.

Then she realized, with horror, they were coming her way — they were taking a deli break. She fled the deli, twisting her head and neck to the left under her glasses and hat as she hurried down the street. Only at the end of the block did she dare glance back. They were out of view. Milly walked home stunned that she’d seen him, relieved to know he looked healthy, desperately hoping he hadn’t recognized her.

“Why didn’t you say something to him?” Gallegos asked her two days later.

“Are you kidding?” she said. “I’m not a glutton for punishment. I don’t need to debase myself.”

A couple days later, there was a horrible early-summer rainstorm that caused flooding all over the city. Milly rode it out uptown with her father and didn’t come back downtown for two nights. But when she finally did, she woke up again in the Christodora to the familiar morning sounds of dogs barking and children playing down in the park. She walked to the window. It was late May and the temperature was already up in the high eighties at — what time was it?

She peered at her tablet. Ten A.M. Good Lord, she thought, I can feel the heat already. She idly watched people dart through the park on their way to work. The usual neighborhood bums were already gathering, paper coffee cups in hand. A young, dark-haired man on a bench, wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and white sneakers, was reading a tablet.