30

Pensacola Beach

Taylor chopped onion and garlic. Will sat at the counter that separated her small kitchen from the rest of her apartment. His markers scattered around the sketch pad. She added the vegetables to a skillet with melted butter. The sizzle and the scratches of the markers filled the comfortable quiet between them.

She stirred while glancing at him, and she smiled at the top of his head. That silly cowlick stuck straight up. His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as if it helped his concentration.

She loved having him here. His energy filled the space. It radiated through her in a way she couldn’t explain.

“That smells good,” he told her without looking up.

“It’s your nanna’s recipe for homemade spaghetti sauce.”

“Nanna cooks?” His head jerked up.

“Your other nanna. My mom. She loved to cook. She was a gardener, too. Raised tomatoes and onions and peppers.”

“Is she dead, too?”

“No, she’s not dead.” Taylor shook her head but smiled. His seven-year-old mind snagged on subjects sometimes and wouldn’t let them go. This week it must be dead people.

“How come I haven’t met her?”

“You did. You just don’t remember. You were really young.”

“How come she doesn’t come to visit?”

“Travel’s difficult for her. She hasn’t been well.” It was the closest to the truth that she could offer. Since her father passed away, her mother had been in and out of rehab facilities. It was hard to keep track of which addiction she was working on at the moment, especially since she moved to California.

Taylor felt Will’s eyes on her while she busied herself with the store-bought vine-ripe tomatoes. These were nothing like her mother’s fresh from the garden. As a little girl, she helped pick them, washing them with a garden hose. The two of them would stop to eat tomatoes like apples, juice running down their chins. She could still hear her mother’s laughter, though she hadn’t heard it in years. That sound filled with so much joy.

When she glanced over, Will had gone back to his drawing, satisfied for now with her answer.

Why all of a sudden was he so interested in estranged family members? He wasn’t old enough to understand her mother’s challenges. Even now, she hoped he wouldn’t accidentally tell Dora that his other grandmother wasn’t well. Dora already had too much ammunition against Taylor.

She hadn’t thought about her mother in a long time. But lately the memories were good ones. Maybe it was because of Will. The memories evoking Taylor’s maternal instinct. Her mother was a good mother until she wasn’t.

She taught her how to cook, and Taylor actually enjoyed it. But she hadn’t done much in years. It was too easy to grab something on the way to the hospital and on the way home. Days off, she’d resorted to energy shakes and protein bars. And although she enjoyed exploring Pensacola Beach’s restaurants and cafes with Will, she’d recently discovered how much she missed cooking. Like this. With someone else here to share the aromas and even the silence.

“Hey, mom. What if I just didn’t go back?”

“What do you mean?”

She finished filling a pot with water and placed it on the stove before she turned to look at him.

“You know, what if I didn’t go back tomorrow? Maybe just stay here. With you.”

She felt a twinge in her chest, an uptick of her pulse.

“I wish you could stay with me, Will. But you have school. Remember, we talked about this. You’re going to finish the year at your school, then after the new year, you’ll go to the school over here.”

“Okay.” He shrugged like it was no big deal and went back to his drawing.

Taylor had so many questions going through her head right now. Was something going on? Was there a new reason he didn’t want to go back? He’d never asked to stay before. Did it have anything to do with the housekeeper being gone?

“Is Jason having spaghetti with us?” This time when he looked up at her, she knew she couldn’t deflect another of his questions.

“It’s pretty late for an invitation, buddy. I almost have it ready.”

“How about dessert?”

“Will, it’s a long drive from where Jason lives to Pensacola Beach.”

“I could text him and see.” 

“You have Jason’s phone number?”

“Yah, but I don’t bother him. Sometimes I just text and say, ‘Hey.’”

She didn’t remember the two of them exchanging phone numbers. What else had she missed? She noticed Will’s cell phone now on the counter alongside his sketch pad. Only recently and without consulting Taylor, Dora had bought him the latest, most expensive model.

“It’s Saturday, Will. He probably already has plans.”

“You think he’s at the ball?”

“The ball?”

“Yeah, the big shindigger.”

Shindig. She tried not to laugh. He must have heard his grandmother use the word.

“Nanna said everybody whose anybody will be there.”

Taylor almost told him, “no,” that of course Jason wouldn’t go to a fundraising ball without her. But suddenly she wondered. Would he? They never agreed they were dating each other exclusively. Though not doing so was more her guardrails than Jason’s. She knew when a man was crazy about her. Deep down, she knew that even her jealousy of Brodie was misguided. Or was it? Now she wanted to know as much as Will did.

“You can text him and ask,” she said, “but tell him you know it’s late and tell him you understand...”

But his small fingers were already flying over the phone’s keypad, not waiting for the rest of her instructions.

“Don’t be disappointed, okay?” she warned.

She went back to her dinner preparations, but kept sneaking a glance. Will stared at the phone’s screen. Waiting.

The last conversation—a text message conversation—that Taylor had with Jason did not end well. Actually, last night she hadn’t been very nice about him choosing poker with his buddies—and Brodie—instead of joining her and Will at Walter’s Canteen. Would he think she was using her son to guilt him into coming over for dessert tonight?

The phone pinged, and she watched Will’s excited expression slide from his face.

“Sorry buddy,” Will read the message. “Have to do chores and watch the kennel. Everybody’s gone tonight.”

Will looked up at her. “Probably at the ball.” And he shrugged again, but this time it wasn’t one of his “no big deal” shrugs.

There was another ping.

Will read the message, “How about lunch tomorrow? At Walter’s?”

He was grinning when he asked her, “Can we?”

Like it or not, her son was getting attached to a man she most likely considered a nice distraction. And his grandmother considered a problem. Maybe a big enough problem to be a deal-breaker.

But Will was excited and smiling and waiting.

She hoped she wouldn’t be sorry, but she told him, “Sure.”