Free Husky by Justin Sayre Page B

scared of it, but sometimes it’s nice. I guess.
    Now is not one of those times.
    Mom bends down close to me and puts her head right next to mine, I guess to show me the cheekbones that she and I both have that I should be so proud of, she always tells me. But she says, “You know I love you more than anything else in the whole of this world and the next, don’t you?”
    She looks serious at me for a minute in the mirror, like she needs to say this before something terrible happens. I don’t know why she gets like this sometimes, sort of weepy about stuff. She doesn’t need to be. Honest. Every day I get notes about how much she loves me and little cakes and stuff. I think she gets worried that I don’t think that she does, because she has to work so much. But I never think that. Never once. I think she loves me the most, and especially tonight, since she’ll be saving me from the attack of the Mrs.
    Nanny yells up the stairs, “I’m counting till you get down here now, and this is not the way I want to spend my time this evening!” I start to rush out of the bathroom,but Mom doesn’t move, she just keeps curling her hair, like she hasn’t heard the threat of Nanny. She’s still just there, curling her hair, with no shirt on.
    â€œDucks!” Nanny calls from down the stairs.
    â€œYou better run, she’s counting,” Mom says, shivering from the yell.
    â€œAren’t you coming?” I ask from the doorway.
    â€œNo. I’m going out tonight.” Mom smiles. “I’ll be home later.”
    â€œIf I have to count again!” Nanny threatens from three flights down. I run down, fast and pounding. By the time I get down she’s already at the door, waiting and counting. “You’re worse than your mother. Let’s go.”
    Maybe. But where is Mom going?

    Martinetti’s is an old Italian restaurant in Park Slope that Nanny has been going to for years. So many years, that they have her picture on the wall with Jock. It was their favorite place. Every time she comes, she goes over to the picture and smiles, and says, “Hello, Jock.”
    Jock was my grandfather’s nickname, but I never metanyone who ever called him anything else. Even me. Jock was quiet most of the time, except when he laughed, which he did a lot. Especially at Nanny. He thought she was the funniest woman alive. He would always say things like, “Why do I ever need to go to a show when I got all this at home?” and then would slap both his legs hard and walk around the table to her.
    That was Jock.
    People loved him, like people love Mom. They were always happy to see him, even if they didn’t know him. He was someone who you just had to smile at. I always did. When Jock died, it was like the whole house went quiet. Even Nanny couldn’t make a sound for days. I’d never seen her like that before. I’d never seen anyone like that before. Sad, but more like empty. Like everything in her got taken out, and she sat there, waiting for it to come back, and looking around to see if it would. It was the scariest thing I’d ever seen. Or heard.
    And then one morning Jock’s TV was blaring, and she was filled up again.
    Nanny still misses Jock. We all do. Jock helpedMom open the bakery and got her to make the rolls for Martinetti’s. He wanted her to do well. And he started the Blunder Wall, you can see some of his hands in the pictures. And his is the only face you can see in any of them. Jock wanted the best for Mom. And me. And especially Nanny. He asked Mom to stay there and look after her when he got sick. So we do. Even now.
    Mrs. Zhang already has a table in the back and waves to us to come. But first Nanny needs to say hello to everyone she knows in Martinetti’s, which is everybody. And it’s not just
hello
. It’s:
How’s your father? How’s the boyfriend? How’re you doing with the balding?