Page 23 of Frosted and Sliced

“That must have been lonely,” she said gently, sensing what he left unsaid. It sounded as if his mother had put him in a bubble and isolated him from the real world.

Burke tipped his head. “I wouldn’t say it was lonely. I think I was probably always the type to live in my head and prefer my own company. But it was…stilting. I didn’t develop the kind of skills other people do, relational, etcetera.” He motioned vaguely toward her, as if she had the market on relationships.

She pointed to her ears. “Spent my life in isolation. You’re barking up the wrong tree, if you think I have good people skills.”

He tipped his head as if to say,Touché.

Georgie stood and refilled his mug with the remainder of the cocoa. “I wanted to be with people, to have relationships, though. Did you?”

He waited to answer until she sat down, so she could see his lips. “I don’t know how to answer that. Can you want what you’ve never had? But as I got older, my mother’s love began to feel stifling. What I wanted, more than anything, was to be my own man. I think in her mind I would stay with her forever.”

“That’s very Norman Bates,” Georgie interjected.

“It started to feel like that a little. The isolation formed me into this person.” He waved a hand in front of his own face now. “But it did worse things to my mom, made her shift from anxious to paranoid. By the time I was in high school, she was really unhealthy. I recognized the need to get away, for my own mental health and safety.”

“Even with that recognition, I bet it wasn’t easy,” she said gently.

He stared at his mug and gave his head a little shake. “It wasn’t. There were a few rough years there. But now my mom lives in an assisted living village where she has taken some strides toward friendship again. She does a few activities a week and she walks around the neighborhood with a friend. I can’t say she’s a hundred percent, because she’s still really anxious. But having more social contact stops her from veering into actual insanity.”

“How is your relationship with her now?” Georgie asked.

“A little more typical, I think. She wants me to come to see her, bugs me to get married and provide grandchildren, things like that.” He rolled his eyes.

She smiled, but it was also tinged with sadness. She would give almost anything to have her mother there to bug her about those things. But, as she learned long ago, her sadness didn’t preclude anyone else’s happiness. She pushed away her grief, choosing not to deal with it or dwell, at the present moment.

“Are you close to giving her those things?” she asked.

“I’m as close to giving her a grandchild as she is to giving me a sibling,” he said, and it was unfortunate timing, as Georgette had just taken a sip of her cocoa and had to press her hand to her mouth to avoid spewing.

“That’s quite the visual,” she eventually choked. “Hey, before I forget to tell you, I have a full house this weekend. A bachelorette getaway.”

“I know,” Burke said.

She tipped her head. “How do you know?”

“I peeped your records and sent them to my phone, so I’d always have a heads up.”

“So, so incredibly inappropriate, creepy, and invasive,” Georgie said, shaking her head.

“It’s an attic hobo’s prerogative to always be current on events,” Burke said, untroubled. “In any case, it doesn’t matter because I won’t be here.”

“Because people will be here? You’re really going to go away?”

“As opposed to, what, haunting my attic space? Should I stay and drag some heavy chains around?”

“Wouldn’t matter to me, I can’t hear it anyway,” she said.

He chuckled. “Tempting as that sounds, I have a work thing.”

“I thought you didn’t have a job,” she accused.

“I’m a consultant. I work when I want,” he said.

She bit her lip, certain he was only taking a job because he needed money, and also certain that he needed money because he was funding her attic renovation. He tapped the table between them, snagging her attention.

“Why the pouty lip?” he demanded.

“I feel bad.”

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