But at the same time I get it. He assumed I didn’t need him; that I would better off with my mother and Richard, in a big fancy house in one of San Francisco’s richest neighborhoods. He probably assumed I didn’t need him because I never told him, never acted like it.

It couldn’t have been further from the truth. Some days I think one phone call to my dad to tell him I need him would have brought him back. But I never tried. I didn’t have the guts.

I wonder if the same thing could have happened with Phil. Maybe I had done something wrong, maybe I just spent too much time focused – obsessed – with Ava, that I hadn’t noticed I pushed him away. Maybe Phil needed to hear I needed him too.

I swallow back the bitter memories and they move down into my chest where I hope they stay, that blank, dark space behind my heart. I think I see my mom doing the same. When she married Richard, perhaps because of how they got together, he made her sign an indemnity clause. When she eventually cheated on him – let’s face it, what they had wasn’t love – she lost it all. Now she has nothing. No education, no love. She lives in a tiny house in the middle of nowhere, cleaning other people’s homes to make a living. We both used to have so much, and now we have so little. I know people must think this is her karma, that it’s deserved after all she did.

But what did I do to deserve the struggle?

“You better not be late,” my mother warns. It makes me realize I must have been standing there blanked out like a glum zombie.

“I’m going,” I tell her, walking into the bedroom to grab my purse. Ava’s already asleep so I quickly get out the door so I can make my bus on time.

I have the worst and best timing when it comes to bumping into people in the halls.

Bram and his new girlfriend are just stepping out of his place.

“Hi,” I say to him, immediately feeling awkward as I stand in the doorway.

“Hi,” Bram says, smiling brightly, not seeming awkward at all. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look awkward.

Silence and a polite smile from the tall brunette on his arm. She’s dressed to the nines, very classy in a long black dress and gold jewelry and Bram’s wearing a sharp black suit and tie. His hair is pushed off his face and he’s looking exceedingly dapper, like he did at his brother’s wedding. He could be the next James Bond. Even his accent is the same as Connery’s, maybe with a bit more emphasis on the rolling “Rs.”

“Is this Bram?” my mother suddenly asks and I nearly jump. I look behind me and see her poking her head through the door. And I was so close to closing it.

“She’s heard of me?” Bram asks gleefully.

“Who hasn’t?” I say dryly as he leans over to get a better look at my mother.

“You must be Nicola’s mother,” he says, grinning those dimples at her and offering my mother his hand. “I can see where she gets her beauty from. A rose from a rose.”

Oh, brother. While my mom seems to melt in front of him, telling him her name is Doreen and that he’s far too kind, I exchange a glance with the silent brunette. She looks like she wants to roll her eyes too. Makes me wonder how their date is going to go.

“Well, I’m going to get going,” I say, knowing if I miss my bus I’m screwed.

“Off to work?” Bram asks. “I can give you a ride.”

“Isn’t he darling?” my mother says.

“That’s okay,” I tell him quickly. “The bus is easy.”

“You’d rather take the bus than come with me?”

I eye the girl again, rather apologetically this time. “You seem to be on a date.”

“We’re just going to the opera.” Oh, just the opera. “Justine doesn’t mind, do you Justine?”

Justine gives a half-hearted shrug with one shoulder, wearing a world of indifference on her elegant features.

“See, she doesn’t mind,” Bram says. “Come on.”

I really should have protested further but to be honest, I was glad to not take the bus for a change. My stupid car was now at the back of the building – Bram had it towed there from the Tenderloin – waiting for money so I could get it the part it needs. Battling crazies on the bus had become a part of my nightly routine, but it would be nice to just relax for once.

Yet, I do anything but relax in the back of Bram’s Mercedes. Bram keeps talking to me about this and that, completely ignoring his date who seems to be bored by the whole thing anyway. After a while I stop feeling bad that I have so much of his attention and start to enjoy it. He can be damned charming and funny when he wants to be.

After he dropped me off, I was immediately swept into the chaos that is working at The Burgundy Lion. James is a pretty good boss, although he’s a moody little bitch sometimes. I remember what an obstacle he was with Steph and Linden when they got together and I’m glad Linden finally pushed James’s opinion to the side because he strikes me as the type to get upset about everything. Thankfully he hasn’t thrown a hissy fit with me yet but that’s because I do my job and even when I make an epic mistake (um, like forgetting to charge a group for their massive bill), he’s had the grace to look the other way. I think he knows I’m much harder on myself than he will ever be. I also think he’s a bit scared of me. I don’t know why. Perhaps he thinks single moms are crazy. In some ways, we kind of are.

By the time my short shift is over, I get to the apartment, by way of the bus this time, no Bram to whisk me away in his car. I’m absolutely exhausted and it’s getting close to midnight. I feel terrible that my mom has to drive back to her place so late but as soon as I step inside the door, she’s all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to go.

“Everything was okay?” I ask her.

She nods. “She didn’t wake up, keeps on snoozing away.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night?”

“On that couch, are you kidding me? Last time I woke up with a back I thought I’d get when I’m 80,” she says with a grin. “Seriously, Nicola, darling, first chance you get, get a new one. You know this couch is too big for most living rooms anyway. What about two loveseats? I bet IKEA has them at the right price.”

Two loveseats would make the living room area look much bigger but there are so many other things to spend money on – important things – that a new couch or two seems frivolous. Besides, how the hell would I get my things from IKEA anyway, haul all the boxes on the bus?

“By the way,” my mom adds as she heads to the door. From the saucy look in her eyes, I have a feeling I know what the subject will be. “I spoke to Bram again.”

“Again?”

She lowers her voice. “He came home about an hour ago. He was alone if that makes any difference to you.”

“It doesn’t,” I quickly interject.

“Nonetheless,” she goes on, “he knocked on the door, just wanting to see if I was okay and if I needed anything. Actually I needed a cup of tea and your kettle isn’t working so he came over and lent me his.” I look over my shoulder in the kitchen and see a fancy stainless steel one on the counter. “He said you could keep it. I told him you would really appreciate it.”

“Mom,” I say, nearly whining, “I don’t want anything else of his. He’s done enough and I’m tired of feeling like a charity case.”

Her smile fades. A heavy pause settles between us. “I know darling. It never gets easier, does it?”

I sigh, my heart feeling fragile, like tempered glass. “No. It doesn’t.”

Then, to my surprise, she quickly pulls me into a hug and holds me tight. She hasn’t done this for ages. She’s a lot like me, or maybe I’m a lot like her – we forget to be affectionate every once in a while.

“You’re a good mother,” she whispers into my ear. “I’m proud of you, just like this, just the way things are now. But they will get better. For both of us. I promise.”

I close my eyes, letting that glass shatter. Just a little. Then my mother lets go and the air in the apartment is cold. She gives me a loving look and she’s out the door.