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My apartment was filled with tempting aromas from the homemade flour tortillas and stuffed Mexican cornbread I’d made with all my stockpiled food. Since it only needed to last me one more day, I figured I might as well enjoy it. My mom had made the cornbread every Christmas morning since I could remember. The tantalizing smells lured me out of bed more effectively than the promise of presents under the tree.
I dug into the chorizo-filled cheesy cornbread while continuing to send messages to those who hadn’t responded, but they felt like words lost in a void. The responses trickled in until late afternoon then stopped altogether, leaving me feeling detached from all I’d known in the city.
I went up at four o’clock for my standing playdate with the girls, hoping to reconnect with humanity. I hadn’t told them yet that I was leaving. Our relationship was based on fun and distraction, not reality. Julia had colorful splotches all over her face and hands, and Emma was wearing a gray leotard and mouse ears.
I laughed and asked, “What’s going on with you two? Is that paint?”
Julia giggled. “I love to paint, and Emma likes to dress up. So I paint her in different costumes.”
“How fun! Can I see the painting?”
“Sure.” She reached over to the coffee table and held up a piece of cardboard. “She’s smelling lasagna. It’s our favorite dinner. My mom makes it all the time.”
I squinted at the painting of Emma as a mouse on all fours, sniffing a plate of food. “It’s really good.” I meant it. For a twelve-year-old, Julia was pretty talented.
“Thanks! I love art class. My teacher said I’m the best in the class, so Mom bought me all kinds of art supplies.”
“And I get to dress up,” Emma said happily. She sniffled and veered behind the curtain quickly, but I thought I heard her cough.
When she came back, I looked her up and down before saying, “It’s great that you found something you can both enjoy in different ways. Does your mom have any makeup? You could use eyeliner to draw whiskers and some pink lipstick to make a nose.”
Emma stuck out her lower lip. “My mom doesn’t wear makeup, and she won’t buy us any. She says we’re beautiful just the way we are and don’t need makeup.”
“Oh. Well, she’s right. You are both beautiful.”
Julia mumbled, “Thanks,” and looked away, but Emma beamed.
“You have the prettiest hair. I wish mine was like yours. And, Emma, look at your dimples! They’re adorable.”
Julia frowned at her sister. “Emma, say thank you!”
Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. “I will. I’m waiting for her to finish!”
I laughed. “I’m done for now.”
Emma smiled widely, showing two missing teeth and the aforementioned dimples. “Thank you.”
I was reluctant to spoil our jovial mood, but I couldn’t delay any longer. “I have a flight out tomorrow, so I wanted to say goodbye.”
They exchanged a sad glance. Emma asked, “Zeke too?”
“Yep, Zeke too.” I glanced down and saw that neither of them wore wristbands. “You didn’t get a flight, did you?”
“No, we didn’t get bracelets like yours. Momma’s been sick, but she didn’t want to go to the hospital, so she didn’t fill out the questionnaire. We’ve been taking care of her,” Julia said.
“How are you guys feeling?”
“I’m okay, but Emma started coughing last night. It woke me up.”
I noticed that Emma was a little flushed and kept sniffing. Tears stung the corners of my eyes. Even in such a short time, I’d come to care for the girls. It was incredible what a person could overlook just because the heart wanted to.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”
Emma said, “You are helping.”
Her words lifted my heart. “Let me know if you need anything. I have some food here. In fact, hold on one second.”
I ran downstairs and grabbed a bag of gummy bears I’d been saving for the flight. Back up on the roof, I told them to step away from the window. Leaning over the railing, I took aim and threw the bag through.
Julia picked it up, squealed, and ripped it open. “Oh my god! Thank you. These are my favorite!”
“Sure,” I said. “If you need anything, make sure to tell me when I come up tomorrow. That’ll be my last day.”
Their smiles fell. “Maybe we can have all your candy before you go?” Emma said hopefully, brightening some.
“Of course. I’ll bring whatever I have up here tomorrow. But I’ll come up at two instead. I’m leaving for the airport at three.”
Julia nodded then glanced behind her. “My mom is calling us. See you tomorrow.”
I waved. “Feel better, Emma. Bye.”
Once they were out of sight, I wandered over to the far ledge and sat down. I was starting to shiver from the cold, but it was a good distraction to keep the sadness at bay. I wasn’t ready to deal with what I’d just heard. My body felt sharp with hard, raw edges. The streets were completely empty, but a helicopter flew over every ten or fifteen minutes. Our apartments had become tombs. Life was taking place above us now.
When I made it back downstairs, heartache overwhelmed me. The girls were probably going to watch their mom die, then they would die slowly, and there was nothing I could do. Sitting on my couch, I cried for them and for all the other people I had known who had died or would die soon. I thought about praying, but since I wasn’t sure if I believed in God, I didn’t know who to pray to.
An hour later, my eyes had no tears left. I washed my puffy face and started going through the piles of stuff to sort out what was important enough to take and what wasn’t. We were only allowed one large suitcase to check and two small carry-ons. The task was easier than I thought it would be. In a time of death and disease, material things no longer seemed important.
The next morning, I made sure I had all my important documents and my old Rolleiflex twin-lens box camera, a gift from my dad. In my carry-ons, I packed food for Zeke and his chamomile calming drops. At two o’clock, I went up to the roof. When the girls saw me, they jumped up and down happily. Emma wasn’t in costume, but she had her hair in braids with bows at the ends and was wearing a rainbow-colored dress.
I pointed to the left of their window. “Julia, see that old clothesline out there?”
She stuck her head out and peeked over the sill. “Yes, I see it.”
“Can you reach the bottom line?”
She stretched her arm up and touched the line. “I can reach it.”
“I’m going to run downstairs. I’ll clip the bags to the line and send them over. Don’t lean out. Just wait for them to come to you.”
The corresponding pulley was on the outside wall next to the top of my narrow hall window. I stepped up onto the sill and pulled the top window down. With clothespins I’d used for sealing half-eaten bags of chips, I secured two bags to the bottom line. When I tried to pull the top line, the pulley didn’t spin—it was rusted from years of neglect. But I yanked harder, and with a squeaking noise, the pulley finally started moving.
The girls clapped their hands excitedly. Once Julia had retrieved the bags, I sent two more. As the wheels loosened, I picked up the pace. Zeke was barking like crazy, apparently thinking it was some kind of game. I managed to get seven bags into their apartment. One bag slipped out of its clothespin and dropped to the ground, but it only contained pretzels and trail mix, so the girls weren’t too sad.
I ran back up to the roof. The girls were emptying the bags onto the floor while they danced around the pile of junk food. They opened a bag of M&M’s and started munching.
I leaned on the fence. “How’s your mom doing?”
Julia shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. She’s still got a fever and coughs a lot. But she told us she’s okay. She just sleeps most of the time. I took her temperature this morning, and it was one-oh-two.”
I winced. Their mom might not have much time left, and I wouldn’t be there when she died. Sadness overcame me at the thought of them going through that alone. “Where’s the rest of your family?”
“We don’t have any other family. My mom is an only child, and both her parents died before we were born.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. What about your dad?”
Julia stopped chewing and glanced warily at Emma. “He’s not here anymore.” Emma seemed oblivious, intent on plowing through all the candy.
I waited for Julia to explain, but she didn’t say anything else. “Did he die too?”
Julia hung her head. “He’s not dead. He just left a long time ago when Emma was little. It’s just us now.”
“Do you remember him?”
She thought for a second. “There’s one thing I remember really well. He used to love the Huckleberry Hound Show, so I’d watch it with him. Sometimes he would do Yogi Bear’s voice and say, ‘Hey, Boo Boo, how’s about getting us a pic-a-nic basket!’ And then I’d say, ‘But, Yogi, the ranger wouldn’t like that.’ We used to think it was so funny. I don’t know why. Now it seems kinda dumb.”
I laughed. “I remember that cartoon. I used to watch it when I was little too. It’s nice that you have at least one memory of him.”
“Yeah, I guess. I still don’t know why he left. My mom doesn’t like to talk about it. She just says, ‘Some people aren’t meant for this kind of life.’ I don’t even know what that means. I thought he was happy with us.” She looked down at her hands. “He was an artist too. He taught me how to draw cartoons and stuff. I think I’m good at art because of him.” She raised her head again. “What’s your family like?”
“They’re great. Really supportive and fun. I have a big family, and everyone is always in your business. My mom cooks a lot and takes care of everyone. My dad is funny. Kids love him. He’s like a big teddy bear, and when I was little, I spent hours climbing all over him. He used to take me fishing at a few rivers near where I grew up. We hiked then sat side by side.” Talking about my family made me miss them even more.
“We’ve never been to California,” Emma said. “What’s it like?”
“It’s beautiful. Lots of mountains, beaches, farms. I miss it a lot. I grew up in a really small town where everyone knew everyone else. You could walk the perimeter of the town in less than an hour.”
That prompted a game of “when you get there, do this for me.”
“Go to Disneyland and ride the teacups for me!” Emma said. “I’ve seen them on TV. They look fun.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf,” Julia said. “You should do that for me. And get more dogs and some cats. You could name one of them Piper. I’ve always wanted a pet named Piper.”
Emma clapped excitedly. “Oh, and name one of them Miko! My friend gave me this Japanese comic book, and the hero was named Miko. I wish my name was Miko.”
“And go on a hot air balloon! I wish I could do that.”
“And eat as much candy as you can!” Emma yelled.
I had to blink back tears as I listened. “I promise I’ll do all of it, except maybe the candy. But every time I do eat candy, I’ll think of you two.”
Emma asked, “Don’t you have any kids?”
The void in my heart yawned wider. Trying to mask my sadness, I gave her a little smile. “No, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I never met my Prince Charming, and you kind of need a Prince Charming to have kids.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “No, you don’t. Prince Charming is a fairy tale. My mom didn’t meet Prince Charming, either, and she’s got us.” Her eyebrows were raised, wrinkling her forehead.
I stifled a surprised laugh. “I guess you’re right. But I’ve never met anyone I wanted to have kids with. And now, it might be too late.”
“My friend Katie never had a dad,” Emma said through a mouthful of chocolate. “She has two moms, and they bought an invisible dad from some bank. Couldn’t you do that? Don’t you want kids?”
“Yes, I do. But we don’t always get what we want. I thought about going to a bank. But I decided I didn’t want to do it alone, that I wanted to share that with someone. Being a parent is tough, even when there are two of you. So I just kept waiting, thinking I would eventually meet someone. But I didn’t. Life has a way of derailing your plans sometimes.”
Julia said, “When you get home, there’s one more thing I want you to do. You should have a kid. Even if you have to adopt one, just do it. You’d be a great mom. It would be sad if you didn’t.”
I didn’t know if I could do that, and I took promises very seriously. I stared at her, and she stared right back. She seemed much older than twelve. She was right though. I would be a great mom.
“I promise.” I checked my watch and saw that it was a quarter to three. I had to get Zeke ready to go. I looked at them sadly. “I brought my camera. Can I take a picture of you two? Just to remember you by?”
“Sure!”
They both leaned against the sill on their elbows and smiled broadly. I snapped the photo and peered at the small digital image. They looked so happy. It was hard to believe their world was crumbling around them.
“Got it! I gotta go now. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Give Zeke a big hug from us. We’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. Take care of each other.”
Tears started rolling down my cheeks, and I had to fight to hold it together. We waved at each other, then I turned toward the door. Before I walked through, I glanced back. They both smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.