Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [102]
I stand up, pull the invitation out from my coat pocket, and hand it to him. “Chloe’s party. It’s tomorrow. I hope you can still make it.” My voice is hoarse.
“Of course.” He takes the invitation and, tucking it into his front shirt pocket, gives it a small, reassuring tap. And then, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me on the forehead. I want to say something to let Richard know that I’m worried. That I love him. He pulls me closer to him and rests his chin on the top of my head.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll be there.”
I walk home the long way, down Shady to Forbes, stopping at the market for some fruit and the paper store for party hats, streamers, balloons, and some cute, but expensive, birthday candles in the shape of farm animals that I know will delight Chloe, all the while ruminating about Richard. Whomever he’s seeing obviously isn’t good for him, but because Richard has seldom shared those particular details of his life with me, it’s awkward bringing it up. He dated a nice architect named Steve for a couple of years, whom he brought to our wedding, but it hadn’t lasted. Since then, he’s mentioned no one.
I turn down Fair Oaks, my father’s street. It’s a beautiful, winding road, so typical of Pittsburgh streets, hilly and tree-lined. There are buds on the oak trees, that precious yellow-green of early spring. Even though I’ve lived my whole life in places where seasons change, I’m always vaguely surprised when spring finally puts out its gentle feelers. There’s a silver BMW parked in front of the house, and I think for a minute that it might be Ruth’s, but it isn’t. I’m midway up the front walk when I hear the car door open behind me and a voice calls, “Mira?” I stop my trek up the front lawn and turn around. To my surprise, Neil is standing there with a small stuffed bear I recognize as belonging to Chloe.
Neil tucks the bear under his arm and takes a bag from me. “Looks like you could use a hand,” he says.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to return this,” Neil says, holding the bear out to me. “Eli must have put it in our bag while we were talking in the coatroom the other day. I thought Chloe might be missing it. You know how kids can be.”
“I don’t think she even realized it was missing,” I tell him, taking the bear. “What about the Toddler’s Manifesto—if you lose it and I find it, it’s mine? Shouldn’t Eli get to keep it? After all, a manifesto is a manifesto.”
Neil pauses, as if seriously considering my question. “Well, as you pointed out, Chloe isn’t officially a toddler yet, so technically she isn’t bound by the Manifesto.” We are now standing on the front steps of my father’s house. I glance across the street at the Silvermans’ house, which mercifully looks vacant at the moment.
“Hey, how did you know where I live?”
“Do you think the Jewish mothers’ network of spies is immune to infiltration? Although I must admit that your case posed a bit of a challenge. You’re not Jewish,” Neil says.
“No, I’m not.”
“That made it extremely classified information. I had to go pretty deep.”
I smile at him. “Where’s Eli?” I ask.
“With my mom. I’m on my way to pick him up now. I just figured, since I was in the neighborhood . . .” Neil’s voice trails off as he deposits the shopping bag on my father’s front step and turns to leave.
Neil’s mention of his mother triggers an idea. “Wait a minute,” I tell him, running in the front door and grabbing one of the extra invitations I made from the kitchen table.
“Here,” I tell him. “I thought of inviting you, after the kids had such a good time the other day, but I didn’t know how to get it to you. Not being Jewish, I’m not hooked into the network.”
“Thanks,” he says, taking the invitation and opening it.
“It’s going to be a small party. Mostly just family and my friend Ruth