Marco stopped by later that evening, and we talked over meatball subs.
"What's up, Mom?" he asked after filling me in on his most recent news. I frowned.
"Nothing's up," I said walking over to the fridge. "Want some dessert? I picked up a cake from the store. It's your favorite." He gave me a look then helped me grab a few small plates.
"So you're not going to tell me, huh? I do work with the police, you know. Eventually I'll figure it out." He gave me a mischievous grin that reminded me of his father. I ruffled his dark, wavy hair. He rolled his eyes. Apparently he was too grown up for the hair-ruffling.
"Sorry, you're right. It's just some stuff from the past. It's got me all distracted."
"You? Distracted? Well, that never happens." He rolled his eyes again. I laughed.
"Someone I knew from a long time ago is supposed to be in town. It's been sending me on an unplanned trip down memory lane. I've had so much on my mind lately. About this person, old friends, you," I paused. "Your dad."
Marco played with his fork on his plate. "I miss him," he said softly.
"I do too."
It had been almost six years since Joe Morelli passed away, and some days the rawness of it felt just hours old. Cancer, of all things, had been what finally stole him away from me. When we were first married, I had always assumed he'd go out in a gun fight. But eventually he was promoted to a cushy desk job at the station, and my worries over his safety diminished a little. I even started envisioning us on old people cruises and with grandkids running around. Unfortunately Joe wouldn't live to see sixty.
Being back in the hospital so frequently was probably the worst part. That and watching someone so strong and fearless wither away before my very eyes. In a way I thought it was Karma striking back for all those years I spent dragging my feet with our relationship. Sometimes it made me think of Vitaly and Nadia. Maybe we'd just been dealt a crummy hand.
Of course, it wasn't all bad either. Some of my favorite memories took place in that repulsive hospital. Especially toward the end. Joe seemed oddly relaxed and even a little peaceful. It was all very unItalian. Some days while I'd sit and read a magazine in his room, he would just watch me from his hospital bed. We'd share memories and favorite moments, and we decided at the very end that we really didn't have that bad of a run together. We'd had a good marriage, a terrific kid, and enough crazy family moments to last a lifetime.
It's the dull heartache and loneliness that are the most difficult parts to cope with now. Friends have tried to set me up on dates, but none of it ever feels right. I try to pretend to be Grandma Mazur and just live life, throwing all caution to the wind, but it's much more difficult than it looks. It would have been nice if that woman would have stuck around a little longer to give me some advice on the matter. I'll probably just have to rely on my own instincts for now.
"So what are you going to do about this person from the past?" Marco asked pulling me away from my thoughts.
"I haven't really decided yet. It's been a really long time, and I don't know… It's complicated." I sighed and leaned back in my chair.
Marco took my hand in his. "You need to do what's best for you. If it's best to leave the door closed to the past, then do it. You don't owe this person anything. But," he paused. "If you're worried about something else, maybe it's better if you faced your fears."
"When did you get to be so sage-like?" I asked getting up to give him a hug.
"It's a natural gift. What can I say?" The snarky remark made me smile.
"You remind me so much of your dad sometimes."
"That's a good thing, right?" he said with a smirk.
"Yes. Definitely a good thing. Do you want me to bag up some leftovers for you before you go?"
"What leftovers?" he laughed.
"You can have what's left of the cake," I offered. We both glanced in the box. One small sliver remained.
"That's ok, Mom. Keep it in case there's an emergency."
"If there's a dessert emergency, I'm calling your Gram. That's all there is to it."
"Good point," he smiled. He gave me another hug before I walked him to the door. "Same time next week?" he asked.
"Wouldn't have it any other way." He left, and suddenly I was all alone again. Just me, myself, and some very puzzling thoughts. They kept me up most of the night. Lula called me early the next morning.
"Ranger's staying at that fancy place just outside of town," she said. "Bad news though. He's only checked in for the one night." I frowned. Apparently he wasn't interested in hanging around. It wasn't a very good sign. "Have you tried calling him yet?"
"Not exactly," I sighed.
"Well I don't think he's going to bug you unless you specifically tell him the bugging's ok."
"You're right. I'll figure something out."
"The clock's ticking Steph. I think he's supposed to get in sometime this afternoon." Great.
I hung up with Lula and started pacing the hallway. The mature thing would be to call him on the phone, set up a meeting time and place, and show up. But something about this whole ordeal made me feel young and stupid again. Part of me really wanted to just show up in his hotel room kind of like how he used to randomly appear in my apartment. It was like returning the favor…sort of.
He could appreciate something like that, right? It might even make him laugh. I wondered if his laugh had changed. Then I started thinking about an aged Ranger. He'd have to look different, right? I mean no one could look that good at our age. Suddenly I was having second thoughts about seeing him.
I pulled a handful of outfits out of my closet and started haphazardly trying things on. Everything looked too frumpy or too tight or just plain blah. It was a disaster! Even if I had a year to prepare for this meeting, I still probably wouldn't be ready. However, if I had had a year, I could have at least done something about these darn saddle bags… I frowned in the mirror then flopped on the bed.
Eventually I decided on a standard t-shirt and jeans. It was something familiar and seemed to dampen the trying-too-hard vibe. Plus, the jeans had a tummy-tuck panel that made me look a size smaller than I really was. I decided I could use all the help I could get.