The Best Thing

by Mariana Zapata

She was my seven-pound, eight-ounce surprise when she’d been born. The instant love of my life. The best thing I ever did.

“Grandpa Gus is gonna go kill somebody. You wanna come with me? You wanna help bury your daddy?”

I was not going to waste my life being pissed off at someone. I had better shit to do. People didn’t give enough credit to what not giving a fuck could do for you. It was freedom.

I’d remember the next words out of his mouth every day of my life. I would remember them each time I thought I had no idea what I was doing being a mom. Jonah Collins squeezed my hand. That muscular shoulder rolled upward, and he said, in a rough voice, gripping my fingers tight, “What a gift you’ve given me, Lenny.”

“I don’t ask you to lunch because I want to just see Mo. I want to see you too. I want to be your friend again. I want to be more than your friend. I want to be more than any other friend you’ve ever had before or ever will.”