From Comfortable Distances by Jodi Weiss Page B

social skills.”
     “Will you get off my
case?”
    “In my house, we still
obey basic social skills.”
    “In your house.”
    “Yes, my house.”
    “Once upon a time this
was our house.”
    “Once upon a time is not
now,” Tess said.
    “I thought all the yoga
was lightening you up.”
    “Perhaps if you didn’t
give up on it after one class, it would help you, too.”
    “I don’t need help, Tess,”
Michael said.
    “Oh, got it. You’re just
perfect, Michael.”
    “I’m glad you can admit it.
What are you putting on the French Toast?”
    “Blueberries,” Tess said.
    “Frozen blueberries on
French Toast. Yum.”
    “When I’m done cooking
them, they won’t be frozen,” Tess said.
     “I’m sure it will be
delicious.”
    “I have better things to
do than cook you dinner,” Tess said.
    “Like what?” Michael
said.
    “Like live my life.”
    “We could have gone out
for dinner,” Michael said.
    “You’re the one who
showed up here—be grateful I invited you to eat over.”
     “Sunday dinner just like
momma used to make it,” he said.
    Tess turned the French
toast over in the pan and pressed it down with a spatula so that the olive oil
hissed. In her free hand, she dipped a fresh slice of 7-grain bread in the mix
of egg whites, cinnamon and cardamom, letting it soak the mixture in.
    “Are the papers you need
there?” Tess said.
    “All here,” he said.
    “It’s a good deal, no?”
Tess said.
    Tess put a plate down in
front of Michael, steam rising off of it. She took the strawberry preserves and
butter out of the refrigerator and placed them down in front of him.
    “So gourmet, Tessie,” he
said looking into her eyes and winking.
    “The deal—what do you
think about it?” she said, back at the stove making herself two slices of
French toast.
    “There’s a nice
commission for you. It looks good. There shouldn’t be a problem closing it.” He
leaned down to the plate and examined the bread.
    “What are the black dots
in the bread?”
    “Flax seed.”
    “Now you’re into bird
bread? I leave you alone and you fall apart, Tess.”
    Tess put silverware down
beside him and draped a napkin across his lap before she sat down with her own
plate.
    “Do you have any idea how
many houses you closed last month?” Michael said.
    Tess shook her head.
    “About a dozen,” he said.
    “Not too shabby,” Tess
said.
    She spread the preserves
across her French toast.
    “Do you realize how much
money you’re making?”
    “Do you realize how much
I have to pay out for my business?”
    Michael cut the toast in
half and put one half in his mouth. Tess shook her head at him.
    “I’m a growing boy,” he
said. “Give me a break; it’s a piece of toast.”
    “Anyway, I met the new
neighborhood freak up close the other night.  He’s quite interesting.”
    Michael held his fork and
knife frozen over his toast and watched her take a bite.
    “Oh Michael, get over
yourself.  I’m talking about the guy I mentioned to you the other morning—the
one that was walking in the middle of the street.”
    “You met him the other
night?”
    “And, then I ran into him
yesterday morning while I was out walking.”
    “You were out walking?
Since when do you go out walking?”
    “Since I felt like going
out for a walk yesterday,” Tess said.
    “Hmmm,” he said.
    “Anyway, we were walking
along and then he had to go and darted off. Literally.”
    “Did he dart off with
your wallet and keys?” Michael said.
    “You think he’s a
criminal?” Tess said.
    “How old is this guy?”
    “In his forties, I guess,”
Tess said.
    “Do we know if he even
lives in Mill Basin? He could be sleeping on a bench in Lindower Park,” Michael
said.
    “He seems clean,” Tess
said. “He did tell me that he grew up here and that he’s writing a book now. He
was in Canada for a long time. He seems harmless.”
    “So do most serial
killers from what they say,” Michael said. “Canada? A great place to run