“You were more than a foot rub, Daddy.”
“She was very proud of you,” her dad said.
“I don’t think that’s really true, Daddy.”
“Oh, no, she was. She was just too busy to tell you.”
She and her dad both laughed heartily over this.
Then he’d ask: “How’s the kid?”
This line of questioning never stopped. “Dad, I’ve told you a million times he’s out in Los Angeles and we’re not really in touch.”
“He’s your son. You need to get on the goddamned phone and call him.”
“He doesn’t want to be in touch,” Milly said, too sharply. “I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his. “But I’ve told you that he told me he wanted to live his own life now. Our work is done.”
Her dad shook his head. “I don’t understand that situation one bit.”
“Neither do I.”
But as for Drew? So, the twins came. Milly saw the constant pictures of the twins. She watched the twins grow up in pictures. And one day when Milly was looking at a picture of the two of them in matching striped onesies, in a moment of softness, she typed, “Adorable!” A few hours later, Milly noticed that Drew had put a smiley emoji next to her comment. A week later, when Drew posted a family Halloween picture, Milly wrote, “Boo-dorable!” A few hours later, Drew posted back, “They’re still so small I almost wanted to pose them inside the pumpkins!” To which Milly posted back her own smiley emoji. Six weeks later came the inevitable holiday Santa-hat pictures.
“First visit from Santa coming up!” Milly posted.
“I know,” Drew posted back, “Santa better get crackin’!”
This is how they started communicating again. Pathetic, Milly knew, but that was what the world had come to, just these little pleasantries or silly faces people tapped out underneath one another’s pictures. Then one day Milly was on the tablet and Drew popped up in a chatbox:
“Hi millipede.”
Milly heard the little ping and then just stared at it for about thirty seconds.
“Hi drewpea.”
As soon as she wrote that her gut twisted in an unexpected pang of yearning.
Drew:
Long time no see.
Milly:
I know. Well, you’ve been busy.
Drew:
It’s been crazy. Didn’t know what I was getting myself into.
Milly:
Well, you all look pretty happy in the pics.
Drew:
It’s wonderful. It’s a blessing beyond blessings. Grateful doesn’t even describe. [
Here we go with the whole grateful thing,
Milly thought.] But it’s still exhausting!
Milly:
But you have help, right?
Drew:
Yeah, a great girl. But still!
Milly:
I’m sure. Well, but wonderful you did it.
Quite a long pause there. Then:
Drew:
I would love for you to meet them. I tell them about you all the time.
[
Tell them about me?
Milly thought.
They’re six months old!
]
Milly:
I’m sure that holds their interest.
Drew:
It’s mostly just me rambling to them during feedings or rocking the cradle. Rambling on like a crazy mother.
This was almost too twee for Milly to take. Finally she wrote, feeling lame:
Milly:
You sure sound busy with them.
Drew:
Do you think you could make it out here to visit?
Suddenly Milly had to go to the bathroom. She went and came back, and then she wrote:
Milly:
My dad takes up a lot of my time now.
Drew:
I meant to ask you. How are you both doing? [
She means since my mom’s death, obviously,
Milly thought.]
Milly:
He’s a bit addled but he’s doing okay. He has his Rachel Maddow. He’s had a crush on her for ten years now. He thinks she’s going to come around for him.
Drew:
Haha! What about you?
Milly:
Nothing to report.
Drew:
Making work?
Milly:
Been too busy with Dad.
Drew:
Mmm. That’s gotta be tough.
Quite a pause passed.
Drew:
We might all make it out to New York next spring to see Xtian’s sister.
Milly:
That sounds fun. First time on the plane with the kids?
Drew:
It would be, yeah. Would be so great to see you!
Milly pictured the four of them just coming at her.
Milly:
Of course. Let me know if you come.
Drew:
It’s pretty definite. I miss you Millipede!
[
No, you don’t,
Milly thought.
You’re too busy, too full. You don’t know what it means to miss someone. It’s not a warm, fuzzy feeling. It’s a cold void.
]
Milly:
Well, hang in there with the kids!
A pause.
Drew:
OK, I will. Take care.
Then: “xoxo.” As far as Milly was concerned, “xoxo” was the end of a conversation, so she left it at that. She and Drew went back to their usual one-word exclamatory comments and smiley-cons. The winter that followed was the warmest in New York ever. On January 6, the temperature hit seventy-one degrees, a record breaker, and it never really got properly cold for three months. Milly couldn’t take it. When she went out, people were frolicking in the park, throwing around a football in shorts or with their shirts off, and she would wrap an unnecessary midweight coat around herself just to feel some semblance of normalcy. Everybody else loved the warm weather, it seemed, while to her it just felt like the end of the world.
She left the house to do whatever she had to do as quickly as she could, then came home and made hot tea just to pretend it was an old-fashioned January. If it wasn’t for the thought of her father alone at night, fumbling to put his dinner together, she probably wouldn’t have left the house that winter. Half the time, she ended up staying uptown with her father. Once she stayed up there for a week. She would be lying around reading her tablet regardless of where she was, so it made little difference to her whether she was uptown or down. She slept in her childhood room and read old papers from high school. She found letters from J. from the summers of ’89, ’90, ’91. “I got a house off campus with Jon and Lew for next year,” read one. “There’s a huge kitchen where I’ll make you dinner every night — penne with broccoli rabe, Cajun salmon, all your favorites, sweet Milly.”
He was going to leave me someday, Milly thought, reading the letters. He just didn’t know it yet.
In March, Drew pinged her: “Hey! So like I said, we’ll all be at Xtian’s sister’s place in Brooklyn the second week in April. Would LOVE to see you. Please let me know how that week looks for you. xoxo.”
They would all be here. Not just her. All.
Milly got that message on a Saturday. She had the wherewithal not to reply until she could talk about it with Gallegos the following Monday.
“It sounds like she misses you and she really wants to see you,” he said after she told him.