This Time Tomorrow(11)

Tommy hadn’t emailed—it was the wife, of course. The mother. Hannah Joffey. It was always the mothers. There had been no acknowledgment of a personal connection, that Alice was a human whom her husband had once known, and that they had known each other inside these very walls. So many things were automated these days, maybe his wife thought that she was corresponding with a computer, some sort of virtual assistant. Hannah had used the word we, though, and so Alice was expecting all three of them, the whole family. Her office was mostly tidy—after each child and set of parents left, she had a few minutes to finish her notes and put away the puzzles and games and paper and crayons.

Emily knocked on their shared door and then poked her head in from the hallway. Alice had told her the basics (high school friend, big crush, some sloppy make-out sessions, early and devastating heartbreak), which was probably a mistake, because now Emily was too excited.

“They’re here. Want me to bring them in? Or do you want to get them? He’s hot, just so you know. I mean, old. Older than me. I mean, he’s your age. But he’s hot. Would do him, for sure. Okay.” Emily widened her eyes. “Want me to bring them in?”

Alice exhaled. “I’ll get them. You go sit in a corner somewhere and be quiet.” Emily nodded.

Alice was wearing a dress, which she didn’t often do. It was burgundy, vintage, and made for a disco queen. No mother at Belvedere wore anything like it—they all wore the same things, the same brands of jeans, the same brands of shoes, the same workout clothes, the same puffy down coats in winter. Alice wasn’t interested in that. She wanted Tommy to look at her and think, Oh fuck, what did I miss? She wanted that almost as much as she wanted to see him and not have the exact same thought. Alice wanted him to be in a suit, boring, with doughy cheeks and receding hair. He wasn’t anywhere on the internet—Thomas Joffey barely existed, except in the file she held in her hand. Alice smoothed out the skirt of her dress and walked out to the waiting room, already smiling.



* * *



? ? ?

The child was facing her, on the far side of one of the low tables. He was driving a car around the perimeter of a puzzle and making exploding noises. His parents were both kneeling in front of the table, their backs to Alice. It looked like they were praying at the altar of a tiny god. The boy looked up at her through his long dark bangs and froze.

“Hi, Raphael,” she said. “I’m Alice. Can I see your car?”

The boy didn’t move, but his parents did. Alice watched in slow motion as the Joffeys turned their heads toward the sound of her voice.

Hannah was beautiful, of course. Alice had found her Instagram, and had already scrolled through enough pages to have seen her from many different flattering angles. She wasn’t what Alice had expected, which of course made it worse. Hannah had an interesting face—a large nose, slightly off-center, as if maybe she’d broken it once, and eyes wide-set enough to imagine that she’d been teased as a child. Her hair—dark brown, with gentle waves—hung to her waist. She did not smile.

“You must be Hannah,” Alice said, walking toward her with an outstretched hand. She found that she couldn’t actually look at Tommy, who was standing up to meet her. Alice was watching him out of the corner of her eye, just a shape and shadows, and her heart was beating fast. She shook Hannah’s skinny palm, feeling all her tiny bones, and then turned on her heels.

Raphael had scooted around and was hiding behind his father’s legs. Tommy had one hand on the boy’s head, and the other flat against his stomach. Alice put out her hand, but Tommy raised his arm and tipped his head to one side, inviting her in for a hug. Alice closed her eyes and stepped into his body, her face grazing his shoulder. Her mouth was near enough his cheek to kiss it, but she didn’t.

“Good to see you,” Tommy said. She was finally looking right at him.

There was nothing doughy, nothing soft. His hair was still curly, still dark, though there were threads of silver at his temples. Alice didn’t know if she still loved him, somewhere deep inside her body, or if it was only that she remembered him, which felt the same, a tug at her core. Tommy smiled.

“So, Raphael, are you ready to come and play with me? Or should we go talk with your parents first, and then we can play after?” Alice had worn her best necklace—a gift from Melinda. It was extra-tiny matchbox cars and toy airplanes, all dangling like a charm bracelet. She bent down to show it to the boy. He reached for the necklace with one hand and gently put the other one on Alice’s forearm. She looked up at Tommy and winked. If the boy got in, then the power balance would shift, and she would just be someone he went to school with who for some reason had stayed locked into this one place, someone who was stuck in high school forever, but right now, Alice was fully in charge, and it felt good.





11



Emily loved the story about the restaurant. She loved that Alice had said no. Emily still wanted to make everyone happy, and her breakups were always drawn-out, tear-soaked misery cakes with a smattering of sidewalk arguments sprinkled on top.

“I just think it’s, like, the most badass thing I’ve ever heard.” They were outside smoking. “And I cannot believe how hot that guy you went to school with is. What’s his story, anyway?”

The information had come piecemeal, teased out as it was through conversations with and about a five-year-old. They had just moved back to New York from Los Angeles, where Hannah was from. Rafe—that’s what they called the boy—had allergies, severe ones, and they were seeing a doctor in New York, the best doctor in the field. They hadn’t moved back to be near Tommy’s parents, but the Joffeys owned a small apartment in the building, and so it’s where they were. Hannah made jewelry and short films. Tommy said he was a philanthropist and when he did, Hannah had touched his leg, her hand gently stroking his thigh.