Page 95 of That Reunited Feeling

“Very reassuring. But how about you help out my willpower and talk about something else? Just till we get back to the flat. You’ve had a whole life I know nothing about. Fill me in.”

“Why? Because you always find out the life history of every woman you’ve slept with before getting down to it?”

“No. But you’re not every woman. You’re Hannah.”

“Aw.” She descends into a sarcastic baby voice. “How adorable that you want to get to know me better right when my vagina’s about to explode.”

The radio volume suddenly gets even louder.

“I really do. You have no idea how much I do.” And I actually do. Whatever she’s been through since I moved away has made her into the person she is now—the beautiful, talented, resourceful, and incredibly frustrating person sitting next to me. There’s a story, I know there is. And, although I feel like I know her as well as I know myself, without that story the final piece of the puzzle is missing.

“Okay. This can be quick.” She sits up straight, like she means business. “You left. I was sad and alone for a year or so. Then I got together with Shithead. Had Dylan. My parents disowned me. Shithead ran off. Shithead’s parents didn’t want to know. Was alone and struggling for a long time. Got a job as a live-in housekeeper for a guy. After a couple years, we got together. Then I discovered he was a shithead too. Left. Went to stay with Jude. Bumped into Maggie. She gave me a job. Then you. Naked. Landing.”

“There we go,” she adds triumphantly. “All caught up.”

She reaches for my thigh again.

But I’m ready for her this time and manage to lace my fingers through hers before she gets anywhere close to her target. “Tell me about Dylan’s dad.”

“What does it matter?” Her shoulders slump. “He was nobody. Just the guy who filled the hole you’d left.”

“Someone from school? Do I know him?”

“God, no. I would have told you that.” She sighs and looks down at our joined hands. “Remember Joaquin Morales?”

“Good at physics.”

“Yes, him. He had a friend in a band that needed a singer. I got the job. Dylan’s dad was the drummer.”

Bastard. “Drummers have a high dick quotient.”

For a moment she says nothing, just squeezes my fingers between hers. “I’d wanted you to be my first.” Her voice is softer. “And you weren’t. And I’ve always hated that.”

Her words snap off a chunk of my heart. If only I had been. But I can’t turn back time. We’ve done what we’ve done. We are who we are now. “How long were you with him before you had Dylan?”

“We’d been together two years when I got pregnant. My parents immediately threw me out. So we got a tiny studioapartment together. He was doing a carpentry apprenticeship, and I was waitressing, so we had just about enough to survive.”

“Then he fucked off?”

“When Dylan was six weeks old.” Her eyes remain downcast. “It was awful at the time, but now I think it was for the best. I mean, I hate that Dylan doesn’t have a father-son relationship, but maybe it’s best to have none than to have a horrible one.”

“How did you get by, alone?”

She lets out a long sigh and rests back against the seat, resigned to the fact we’re having this heart-to-heart whether she likes the timing or not.

“Well, I couldn’t get a job because I had no money for childcare. And I had no money for childcare because I didn’t have a job. So I learned about grants and vouchers you can get for housing. And I made friends with another single mom in my building, and we traded babysitting so we could both work part-time. I went back to serving, and she worked at a grocery store.”

“How long did that go on for?”

“Almost two years.”

“Sounds hard.”

She nods. “The days were long. And exhausting.” She pauses and strokes her thumb across the back of my hand. “And depressing.”

“I bet.”

“Then one of the regulars at the restaurant told me she had a friend who was a single guy with a big house north of the city in New Hampshire. He went away a lot for work and needed a live-in housekeeper for the country home. I got the job. And couldn’t have been happier. It solved all our problems. A nice place to live. And a salary. And he was away so much that Dylan and I mostly had the place to ourselves.”

---