“Thank you for doing this.”
“De nada.”
The elevator opened onto the roof. Heads turned, most of them people she didn’t know, many hovering near young kids or holding babies. Nathan’s hand slid around her waist, his fingertips pressed to her hip bone. He guided her forward, out of the elevator, toward a table stacked with presents. Veronika added hers to the stack. She’d obsessed over how to sign the ID tag, finally settling on her first name, sans Love, or From, or Aunt.
For a moment she didn’t recognize the woman heading toward her, hands clasped in front of her, wearing a sundress that looked like it had spent the winter crushed at the bottom of a drawer. It was Jilly, smiling nervously, circling Veronika as if waiting for permission to come closer. “I’m so glad you came.”
Veronika didn’t want to say she was glad she’d come, because she wasn’t sure about that yet. “It’s good to see you” also seemed like a stretch. Her damned heart was racing, making it hard to think. “Hi, Jilly,” she managed through dry lips.
“God, you look beautiful. I can’t believe it’s you.” Jilly finally stepped forward, misty-eyed. She looked so much older than Veronika remembered. She turned, called, “Mom?”
Her mother looked the same—squat, bow-legged, her eyebrows pursed in a perpetual V of concern. While Mom approached, Veronika spotted Sander, watching from a distance, clutching a toddler as if he was prepared to use the kid as a shield if it became necessary. He also looked older. Or maybe not older so much as exhausted.
Nathan released Veronika long enough to introduce himself to Jilly and kiss her cheek, then he came right back, pressed his hip against Veronika’s, his hand on her back.
Like Jilly, Mom stopped at a safe distance. “Hello, Mom,” Veronika said, nodding tightly.
Mom nodded back, just as tightly. “How are you?”
Nathan surged forward, hand outstretched. He grasped her mom’s hand in both of his, said something Veronika couldn’t hear, causing Mom’s face to uncloud. Then he turned to Veronika. “Sweetie? Should we go see the birthday boy?”
“Sure.”
Nathan took her hand, then leaned in toward her and kissed her. It was a warm, wet kiss so unexpected she started to recoil before catching herself and recovering her composure.
She was floating as they walked, hand in hand, toward Sander and little what’s-his-name. Other guests watched as they crossed the roof.
“Now, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Nathan said under his breath.
“This is fucking awesome.”
Veronika gave Sander a one-armed hug, then knelt to say hello to the birthday boy, who had jets of yellow snot protruding from both nostrils, as Nathan shook Sander’s hand, introducing himself as Veronika’s boyfriend. She patted the boy’s enormous, apple-shaped head as he stared at her, openmouthed. “Hi there.” She looked up at Sander. “Can he talk yet?”
“A few words. Ike? Can you say hello to Aunt Veronika?”
Ike put his finger in his nose.
As Veronika stood, Nathan put a gentlemanly hand on her elbow, then lightly kissed her neck. “You want something to drink?” He gestured toward a folding table set out with soft drinks and disposable cups.
“Some water would be great, honey.” It felt a little goofy saying “honey”—not something she’d actually say to a boyfriend, but in this context it felt right. Hey, she was a dating coach; she could act, too.
“He seems wonderful.” Veronika turned to find Jilly at her side.
“Yeah, he is.”
“You look great, Veronika. You look so happy.”
The view from her seat on Lemieux Bridge flickered in her mind, unbidden. She gave Jilly her brightest smile. “I am happy.”
“Can you watch him for a minute?” Sander broke in. “He keeps heading for the edge, and I need to bring the cake up.”
“Sure,” Jilly said, lifting Ike, who wrapped his legs around Jilly’s waist and buried his runny nose in her dress.
Nathan was back with her water. “If you need me, I’m over there talking to your dad.”
Her dad. She hadn’t even said hello, and Nathan was already having a conversation with him. “Okay.” Let him wait.
“I’m so glad you came,” Jilly said as Nathan walked off.
“Me, too.” It was true. She felt like Cinderella at the ball—beautiful, worldly, complete with handsome prince.
“As you can tell, Mom’s still her same warm, radiant self.”
Veronika laughed. “Yes. I thought she was going to crush my ribs with that hug.”
To Veronika’s relief, Jilly didn’t bring up the whole issue of her and Sander. Veronika didn’t want to wade into that mess. Another time, maybe. Seeing them together, imagining herself coordinating this dreary birthday party with Sander, was a balm for the sting of their betrayal. Let Jilly have this life—Veronika didn’t want it. She wanted… well, not her life, either. She wanted the life she was pretending to lead for the benefit of her family, with a kid of her own tossed in.
She scanned the roof for Nathan, spotted him talking to her mother. Excusing herself, Veronika headed over. She wanted to soak in Nathan’s affection while she could, wanted to feel his breath on her hair, to entwine her fingers with his.
“…no question, she’s still hurting, but I think if the family reaches out—” Nathan spotted her, lifted his arm to draw her in. “Come join us, your mom was just telling me about what you were like when you were a little girl.”
There’s an art to seamlessly changing the subject when the subject shows up unexpectedly, and Nathan clearly hadn’t mastered it, but Veronika was touched that he was trying to broker peace between her and her family. It meant he cared.
As the elevator closed, Nathan withdrew his hand from around her waist. The void there was like a blast of frigid air.
“So, how’d I do?” Nathan asked.
“You did great. It was one of the best hours of my entire life. Thank you so much.”
Nathan reached out, and for a moment Veronika thought he was going to put his arm back around her, or draw her in and kiss her, like he’d done at the party. Instead, he patted her shoulder. “I’m so glad.”
20
Rob
A woman in a nearby crèche was having an emotional meltdown. Rob was surprised more women here didn’t have them, given their circumstance. A man with a red, multilevel beard was shushing, trying to calm her. Rob waited beside Winter’s sealed crèche, his lute in his lap. He didn’t want to begin their visit until it was quiet. He was eager to play for Winter.
“I can’t, I can’t,” the woman was wailing. It occurred to Rob that music might soothe the woman, or at least distract her, so he lifted his lute and played a tune as light as soap bubbles. The woman stopped wailing. She asked her visitor a question Rob couldn’t hear over the lute, maybe where the music was coming from. Her visitor murmured an answer.
Rob played on until the woman seemed in a better state of mind, then paused long enough to revive Winter before returning to his song.
Winter’s green eyes fluttered open. They darted around, unfocused, lost, finally fixing on the lute. Rob watched lucidity creep back into them, and thought he could pinpoint the exact moment when memory returned.
She smiled. Her face was still stiff from cold, so the smile looked more like a grimace, but it was wonderful to see. Rob played on, allowing one precious minute to bleed away before setting the lute aside.
“I’ve never heard a more beautiful sound,” Winter said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. How are you?” The question came out automatically, and he kicked himself. Dead—she was dead, that’s how she was.