From the same storyline as 'Snow, Still Falling'
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He met her coming out of the gas station, when he was carrying a backpack full of heroin, soon to be filled with one hundred dollar bills. He was thin, and jittery, and too small for his age.
She was beautiful. And she was wearing a diamond ring.
Todd stopped between two gas pumps and stared at her over the top of a Lincoln Mercury, powder blue and silver. She was putting her wallet back in her purse, a Louis Vitton, and she saw him, and stopped. And for a moment they just stared at each other.
Her pretty pink lipsticked mouth worked for a moment. "…..T-Todd?"
He almost denied it. It would have been easy to deny it. He put his head down, thumbs in his backpack straps and knuckles going white. She walked towards him, slowly, her stylish black flats crunching faintly on the ice melt. She walked around the back bumper of the Lincoln, eyes wide, but they weren't hidden behind her bangs anymore. Her hair wasn't even brown anymore, it was a tasteful blonde, the sort of blonde that didn't look like it came out of a bottle. For a moment he thought she was going to hug him, but her hands clutched her purse to her chest and she didn't. He wasn't sure what he would have done if she'd hugged him.
Her mouth kept opening to say something, but she didn't know what to say. Todd found he couldn't say anything even if he'd wanted to. His eyes fixed on the bumper seat in the back of the Lincoln Mercury and stayed there. The little girl in the seat stared back at him, expression guarded at the age of three.
"Todd….what are you doing here?" she asked eventually, which obviously wasn't what she meant to say.
Todd looked back at her finally. And she winced.
"Where should I be?" he replied, sounding more bitter than he meant to.
She put her face down, cheeks coloring. "How have you been?" she tried instead.
Terrible. I've been terrible, Mom.
"Fine." Is what he said.
She swallowed, and nodded. After a moment she held up her left hand, clad in the diamond ring. "I…I got married." She said, sounding like she wasn't sure she should say it.
"To Steve?" he asked.
She closed her eyes, lip quivering. "No. You've never met him. He's a good man, Todd. He's a really good man."
Todd shook his head slowly. "…Good, Ma. Good for you." he said quietly.
She clutched her purse again.
"He's a lawyer. I know, I used to hate lawyers, but… Todd…." She swallowed, biting her lip and smudging her lipstick. She looked lost.
Bet you never thought you'd see me again, he almost said. Bet you thought I'd just disappear forever. But it was cruel, and he couldn't say it. He couldn't say it.
"We've got a summer house." She said, like she had to prove something to him. "And we've got a baby girl…." She didn't say, you've got a sister, Todd. Because he didn't. Not really, and she couldn't pretend otherwise. "He's a really good provider. And we're married for good. It's…It's for the long haul, this time."
Todd just nodded. "Good."
She stared at him. And she didn't ask him what had happened to him, then, standing at that rest station in the snow. And she didn't ask him how he had eventually found his way back to New York, because Todd might have actually told her. And he also might have told her that he was hungry all the time, and how he had track marks on his arms at the age of 13, and how he sometimes almost wished one of Those Men would take him back because it was better than being hungry, so much better than being hungry, once you'd gotten used to it.
But she didn't ask him. And Todd didn't tell. They just stared at each other, mutely.
"I got it right this time…." She offered, and Todd bit the inside of his cheeks and nodded, because if he talked he was going to cry, and he couldn't cry. He was too old and in too much trouble to cry anymore.
There was a thud as the little girl in the car threw a Beanie Baby at the window. His mother's head turned to it, and Todd realized that it was over.
"I'd…I'd better go. I'm going to be late." She said gruffly, looking at the little girl, who looked nothing like him at all. Todd nodded again.
His mother stepped past him and opened the driver's door of the blue Lincoln Mercury. She sat down, and hesitated.
"Take care of yourself." She said.
Todd shut his eyes, and nodded, one more time.
After a moment she closed the door. The Lincoln Mercury started its engine, and slowly rolled out of the parking lot into a dim New York winter. He didn't watch her go. He didn't know if she looked back at him, there, at the edge of the parking lot, and he didn't want to know for sure. Because he wasn't sure what would be worse.
He straightened his back and took one strangled gasp of air, filling his lungs and holding it, staring up past the flickering light at the faint, filthy powder that had been drifting down all afternoon. And it was New York snow, and it was grey.
He held his breath until he couldn't anymore, and then he let it out, relieved that no other sound came with it. He was in too much trouble, and too old to cry.
He shrugged his backpack, wiped at his face, and went into the gas station to make his trade.