Page 27 of The Two of Us

We engage in more small talk about our jobs. A safe topic. I fill him in on what I’ve done for work over the years and we fall into a familiar rhythm, almost as if the past doesn’t exist at our tiny picnic table. I want to stay here forever.

On the way home, we drive with the windows down, letting the cool evening air kiss our faces. Matty’s passed out in the back and even my eyes become heavy. My exhaustion is catching up with me, regardless of the coffee I downed at the zoo. Ambrose taps his fingers on the steering wheel, humming a song I can’t put my finger on, and when we pull into his driveway, I catch a glimpse of Matty’s mom standing up from the curb. As Ambrose carries a sleeping Matty from the car, she rushes to his side, her face scrunched with irritation.

“I could have taken him today. That was really shitty of you not letting me come, Ambrose.” Her eyes fly to me. “But I see you had no problem inviting her,” she hisses.

Ambrose’s voice is low, but stern. “You and I both know why you weren’t there today. Don’t play stupid, Anya.”

Anya? The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.

“Oh, bite me, asshole. You can stop pretending like you’re his father. Give him to me,” she snaps.

Ambrose squints his eyes at her in the dark, noticing something I can’t see from where I stand. His voice gentles when he says, “Anya… you don’t look good. Why don’t you come inside?”

“Give him to me!”

She yanks on Matty’s slack body, pulling him into her arms. Ambrose looks like he wants to protest, but she has a point. He isn’t Matty’s father and there isn’t much he can do to stop her from taking him. No matter the circumstances. Beads of sweat break out on her forehead and as beautiful as she is, Ambrose is right. She doesn’t look good. She turns away, stomping off toward her house next door. Tension locks in Ambrose’s shoulders and I can tell it irks him, me witnessing something so personal after being gone so long. He flings the car door shut and slams his fist on the hood.

“Ambrose,” I start.

“Go home, Mara.”

He turns on his heel and disappears into his house. And it’s not until I’m twisting the key in my front door that I realize I came face-to-face with Laura’s little sister.

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