The Wait

(L is for luminous, limousine, and lucky)

Every night after work, Beverly Green sat on her balcony, waiting for her son to call. She watched the limousines passing beneath her on Pine Street, as they came and went to the nightclub around the corner. She resisted the urge to call him, because the three-hour time difference between Philadelphia and Los Angeles usually meant he was still at school, finishing up his paperwork, and couldn’t be bothered. And so she waited. Two weeks earlier, he had confided that he was going to ask his girlfriend to marry him, and Beverly began to worry. “This is what I feared when he moved to California,” she told her therapist. “I lost my husband and now I’m losing my son.” Her therapist reminded her that her husband had moved out and that her son was only an airplane ride away. But she knew family ties could loosen as the miles between people grew. “He’ll marry and I won’t be welcome anymore,” she said, certain in her prediction and already planning how to lure him back east.
On Thursday evening, when Beverly was on the verge of chucking the phone into the street below, he called. He had taken his time bringing up the subject to his girlfriend, Charlotte, who had warned him she didn’t like deep discussions of any kind. After ten minutes of rambling, he told Beverly what she wanted to hear. “She said no, even when I begged her.” He sounded perplexed and sad. “I thought she loved me.”
Beverly smiled, feeling a sense of victory over this unknown Charlotte. It’s not your fault, Beverly told him. Think of how lucky you are to have a place to come home to, a place where you can nurse your wounds and recover. “By the way,” she added. “Nancy’s back in town. You know, she never stopped loving you, even while she was married to that guy from South Jersey.” When her son didn’t respond, Beverly offered more details about Nancy and her painful divorce and her new condo, near the Art Museum. “So, when are you coming back?” She would get his old bedroom repainted and order new drapes, then invite Nancy to dinner as a welcome home surprise.
He broke into her plans. “Why would I move back?” he said. His job was in California, and Beverly understood then that she was the only one who assumed the journey out west was temporary. He had new friends now, and he was making new memories that didn’t have to include her. Deflated and disappointed – more with herself than with her son – Beverly let the minutes slip by on the balcony, as the full moon hung, luminous, over a cityscape sprinkled generously with light. Then she called Nancy. She could still invite her to dinner.