Page 30 of Fruitbat

“I do?”

“A little bit.” I hop up, off the bench, and float over to the fountain, kneeling on its edge and peering down at my reflection, babbling under the cherub’s stream. “I look the same.” Except my curls are glazed and tidy.

“You were already perfect.” Danny charms.

I trot back and kiss his sweet mouth.

“My place is a few blocks that way,” I point. “Do you want to go see it? Before whatever is supposed to happen, —happens?”

“Yes.” Danny beams.

I tug him up off the bench and wrap an arm around his shoulders, leading the way toward Park Row.

22

Danny

Soulmates . . .

Si’s neighborhood is the polar opposite of my little ghetto. The sidewalks here are pristine and sprout a uniform row of manicured trees that stand the exact same height as far as the blocks stretch. I’d bet if I counted, each one has the same amount of leaves and branches too. There’s no graffiti on the granite or sandstone block buildings and every street level windowsill holds a planter box that likely blooms in perfect unison during the summer months.

A cleanup crew of city workers is already collecting carved pumpkins from stoops and the “Happy Halloween” banners draped from cast iron street lamps on opposite sides of the street.

Decorations will stay up in my neighborhood until the wind and rain strip them away.

I haven’t ventured to this side of the river since I was little, though I’ve lived in this city all my life. I’m the riff-raff these people look down their noses at.

My mother used to read tarot and do mediumship house-calls here, she used her gift to convey messages from deceased loved ones and predict outcomes of her client’s future endeavors.

She coordinated a seance at a party one time, when I was around seven. The adults shoved me into a playroom with children who wanted nothing to do with me, so I entertained a baby that giggled and hopped in his hanging bouncy chair, as I made googly faces.

The face of their nanny comes back to mind, with her silver hair and brown skin. It was Grace.

That baby had the same apatite eyes, blonde ringlets and big goofy smile as this beautiful man clinging to my side right now. Pieces of that mysterious puzzle that's plagued me all night, click into place.

I lean over and kiss his cheek as we round a corner, into an alley between two buildings.

He beams back at me, “Here we are.” He waves his arm toward a fire escape.

“Welcome home my sweet boys.” The voice I’ve been waiting to hear for a decade chimes behind me.

I spin on my heel, my throat closes and my eyes well over.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, love.” She spreads her arms and invites me to embrace her.

I step in, drawing her signature vanilla-sage scent into my nostrils, and she wraps me tight.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, then wipes my cheeks.

“Mom, this is Si.” I reach for his hand.

Si hooks my index finger with his.

“I know Si well.” She smiles, looking between the two of us. “It’s about time you boys found each other again.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.” Si chuckles.

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