I ask for Anthony. The rough voice on the other end asks the “Who’s calling?” question and I have almost no idea what to say. Finally, I just give her my name. It clearly means nothing to this woman, and the phone clatters as she drops it onto the counter. I hear her bellowing for Anthony. “For you!” I notice she doesn’t mention who’s calling, even though she’s got my name. This woman needs to polish her secretarial skills. It’s like ambushing Anthony. Very rarely have I ever called him, and this time it’s going to be far more difficult than asking for the support check a little early.

“Marcone.”

“Anthony, it’s Justine”

“Justine, hi. What’s wrong?”

Two little words and the floodgates open.

“I just don’t know what to do.” I can’t quite make my mouth say what I’ve called to say—“Please take him”—but Anthony has figured it out.

“Send him here. I’ll take care of him. You’ve had him all this time, all by yourself.”

It’s what I know has to happen. But I don’t know if it’s really the right thing to do. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“You won’t. You’re his mother, and you always will be. But a little distance may be just the thing.” I remember why I fell for him in the first place, this sensible, sensitive guy. Fleetingly, I wonder what would have happened if I’d stayed with him.

“What will Mary say about this? Shouldn’t you at least talk with her?” I realize that I am putting my son into the same position I once suffered, that of stepchild in another woman’s home. I feel my knees quake. I am about to change my mind.

“Mary will love having him. Besides, he needs to get to know his half brothers.”

The difference is in the blood. Anthony’s twins are Tony’s blood.

“Just for a little while.”

“As long as he wants to stay, Justine, he’s welcome.” The phone is muffled for a moment as Anthony responds to someone’s question. In that space, I feel the last of my anger at Anthony dissolve.

“Anthony, I really appreciate your help.”

“You should have asked for it more.”

“I didn’t want to. I chose to cut the ties, after all.”

“Justine, I never meant to be mean to you. I was just so conflicted.” This last word sounds so Brooklyn coming out of Anthony’s mouth.

“What did we know; we were practically kids.”