Sweet

Neither Boyce nor Sam had seen me arrive when I wasn’t expected home, nor did they see me back away from the mouth of the garage, processing the conversation I’d overheard.

I put the sodas back into the fridge as my thoughts spun, stretching and twisting like they’d been threaded through a taffy machine. Boyce had no hopes or remaining aspirations concerning the garage or his relationship with his mother. He had continued working for her for one reason: the promise he’d made to me.

All I could do to help him was free him to leave.

Shouldering my backpack, I left the trailer, snuck to my car and drove to Thomas’s office as if on autopilot. Once inside I recalled that Tuesday afternoons were reserved for surgery consults and emergency postsurgical checkups. There were five people in his small waiting room—the equivalent of rush hour. I nearly burst into tears.

His nurse, Talisha, opened the door to call a patient back, glancing up from the chart in her hand to spot me standing like a lost puppy in the middle of the room. “Well, hello, Pearl! What are you—” She halted mid-sentence and reached to take my arm. “Come on back, honey. Mr. Gardner, you just head on down to room three. We’ll be right with you.”

One minute later, I’d been escorted into Thomas’s inner office, handed a cup of water, and left to sit on the sofa he used for an occasional afternoon nap. An ornate clock sat atop the doorstop edition of Gray’s Anatomy in his bookcase and ticked the seconds away—ninety or so of them by the time he slipped through the door and shut it behind him.

“What’s happened?” he demanded, walking to sit beside me. He took my hand and focused his clear blue gaze on me.

“I need to know if there’s a chance… that I could move home.” My lip wobbled and I swallowed, bracing myself. “Without quitting my program—”

“Good God almighty, yes! Your mother has been beside herself. She can’t sleep, barely eats, cries constantly—I’ve never seen her like this. Please come home. I’ve tried to talk her into calling you, but she’s convinced that she estranged herself from you with that unreasonable med-school stipulation. I didn’t think we were going to survive your birthday tomorrow.”

I began to sob and leaned onto his white-coated shoulder, relieved at every word he’d said but miserable at the reality of leaving Boyce—our nightly talks, his appreciation of my sorry attempts at preparing dishes my mother could make a million times better, the coffee he programmed to start ten minutes before he knew I got up, every kiss we’d shared and all we never would.

“Pearl, tell me what’s happened.” Thomas’s jaw was rock hard, his hands bracing my shoulders so he could see my face. Anger brewed in the gaze he leveled on me, and his grasp tightened. “Did you and Boyce Wynn have a falling out, or is it something worse?”

“No—it’s…” I took a deep breath. “Fifteen years ago, his mother left his abusive father, and Boyce and his brother—and now she’s back. She’s taken the bedroom Boyce promised me. I’m sleeping in Boyce’s bed and he’s sleeping on the sofa. We’re all sharing one bathroom—”

“Say no more, honey.” He slid his arms around my shoulders. “Trust me—just come on home. Everything will be fine.”

• • • • • • • • • •

Thomas had his office manager reschedule later appointments, and I waited in his office until he saw patients who’d already arrived. Following him home after a month’s absence, I turned my stereo low and reviewed possible scenarios despite his reassurances that Mama would welcome me home. I’d imagined letting her know I was doing fine and taking care of myself—easing her worries while discouraging further disputes or ultimatums. I hadn’t anticipated coming to her with an entreaty to move home.

I chewed my lip as we entered my neighborhood and fought tears when we turned into the cul-de-sac. I parked in the driveway, not my spot in the three-car garage, but Thomas beamed, waiting by the back door. I was less sure of what awaited me, which must have shown on my face.

He hugged an arm around my shoulders when I reached him. Opening the door, he called, “Essie! I’ve brought you something. Come and see.”

We walked through the mudroom and into the kitchen as Mama appeared in the opposite doorway, far less put together than usual, and pulled to a halt.

“Pearl?” she said, as if I might not be real. Her eyes filled with tears. “Pearl?” she repeated, coming across the kitchen, arms spreading. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

I went into her arms, relieved. “Mama. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Mija, you’re here? You’ve come home?” At my nod, she began sobbing. “Perdóname, por favor! I’m so sorry, mija.” We cried into each other’s necks, and she held on to me like she’d never let go.

“Me-OW!” Tux bellowed, trotting as quickly as his stubby legs would carry him to twirl his whip of a tail around my legs and fuss at me for my absence, the same way he had every time I’d come home during semester breaks.

“Tux is right,” Thomas said. “This reunion calls for steak on the grill.” He gathered us both in his embrace and squeezed. “Come on, Tux. I think Mama might allow you a few table scraps tonight. Better take advantage, little man.”

“Merrrow,” he agreed.

“I have work tonight,” I said, sniffling. “At six.”