“Yeah.” Gerald finished tying Rashid’s shoe silently, then looked up, his gaze penetrating. “You got anything else you want to tell me?”

Rashid thought about the midterm, about his conversation with his mother. But he was too tired, and his leg hurt too much. Not now. Maybe later. “Naw, G. Just help me get over to the infirmary okay? I … That’s all. That’s all for now.”

Long, Strange Trip

I GUESS I SHOULD say that I was not prepared for the sorrow that ending things with Jerome caused me. It was particularly strange, of course, because they hadn’t really even gotten started. Even so, it was like that night had opened up some kind of dam. I was crying as though I was a teenage girl after her first breakup—privately frequently, and with great drama. For his part, he still watched me. All the time. I didn’t sit with him at lunch anymore, but his darting glances followed me wherever I chose to sit. When I walked past his room at dismissal time, the same gaze followed me, persistent, longing. But I didn’t return it—sometimes with an effort. And after Rashid’s speech, I knew that I had to keep my resolve. There was no point in letting him think something could happen that couldn’t. Could. Not. Happen. Again.

Needless to say, I didn’t tell my daughter that I had been acting younger than she was lately. Cal had told her about his remarriage, and she brought it up gingerly, like a fish she was holding by the tail. “So Daddy told you?”

“Yes, honey.”

“Well, I’m not going to call her Mom or anything.”

Good, I thought. But I said, “Nobody expects that. But you don’t have to take care of me about this. I’m okay”

“Are you really, Mom?”

“Well, it’s not my idea of a day at the beach, but your father and I are not married anymore. I have to respect his decision. Even if you’re angry, I think you should go to the wedding. Don’t feel bad about it on my account. He’s still your father.” How reasonable I sounded.

“Okay. I mean, I’m thinking about it. I’ll let you know.” She hesitated. “Mom, do you ever think about getting married again? Dating somebody?”

“Oh, honey …” I decided to tell her the truth, as much of it as seemed reasonable. “Of course I do. But I haven’t found anybody … good. I’m an old lady, you know.”

“Oh, Mom, you are not. I bet you could find somebody. Like through a club or something. A book group maybe.”

She was so young. “That’s a good idea, sweetie. Maybe I’ll try it.”

“You should.” Problem solved.

“All right, sugar bear. I’ll talk with you later. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom. Bye.” So that was that. Wish it was that easy.