Leaves by Michael Baron Page B

more than a few unfilled spaces. Corrina took it upon herself to try to provide the rest: structure, boundaries, a sense of family, and most importantly a safe harbor. She was still aching from the string of miscarriages that all but guaranteed her childlessness, and while she knew that caring for Ryan couldn’t be a substitute, it soothed her soul a little. And as much as he struggled to project the opposite, Ryan needed people to make him feel at home. In an odd way, that defining incident with the sales clerk had made it easier for Corrina to understand her role with him – he wasn’t looking for a new mother and she didn’t need to pretend to be one. It was enough for her to be the nearest adult female in his life and let him know she was around.
    The past year had been both the easiest and hardest between them so far. Ryan was sixteen and testing his limits. He spent much more time alone in his room. He was out with friends every weekend. His disposition had taken a dramatic change in the past six months. At the same time, though, he was more willing to help around the house, especially in the kitchen. And he was surprisingly sensitive after Corrina’s mother died, asking questions about her, pulling humorous stories from Corrina that made her mother feel just a little bit more alive. Corrina was deeply grateful for these gestures, and for the first time she felt a kind of tenderness toward Ryan that extended beyond responsibility. She doubted this was what maternal love felt like, but it was different from anything else she knew.
    â€œNeed someone to chop?” he said as he came into the kitchen while she prepared the evening’s stir-fry.
    â€œYeah, I’d love it. You take the carrots, the peppers, and the squash. I’ll do the garlic, the lemongrass and the onions.” Corrina knew Ryan wouldn’t want to chop the onions because it wasn’t acceptable to have her see him with tears in his eyes, even if they were artificially induced.
    He pulled out a chef’s knife and cutting board and began slicing the yellow squash into half moons. “What’s tonight’s theme ingredient?” They often watched “Iron Chef America” together on The Food Network on Sunday nights.
    â€œSomething especially challenging. It’s chicken.”
    â€œAh, the rare delicacy found only in the American specialty shop known as the supermarket.”
    â€œI thought I’d throw in some of that Thai Basil sauce I found at Sage the other day.”
    â€œNice. Way to push the envelope, Cor.”
    Corrina finished slicing the onion and moved the bowl to the other counter, wiping at her eyes while she did so.
    â€œTough onion?”
    â€œNah. I was just moved by your compliment,” she said sarcastically.
    He grinned. He really was a handsome boy. Lean and angular like his father, but softer around the eyes and mouth. Many girls would fall for those eyes. Many might have already, for all she knew. She wasn’t allowed to ask such questions.
    â€œSo a friend of mine got tickets to the River concert at Madison Square Garden and asked me if I wanted to go.”
    â€œMadison Square Garden? That’s a hell of a long ride from here.”
    â€œIt’s not that far away.”
    â€œDoesn’t River play shows that go on for something like four hours?”
    â€œYeah, something like that.”
    â€œSchool night?”
    â€œIt’s a Friday.”
    Corrina nodded. If he went to the show, he wouldn’t be home until three in the morning at the earliest. Gardner and she had never let him stay out anywhere near that late before. What she knew of the audiences at River concerts was that they tended to be relatively relaxed – but this was largely because of a liberal use of marijuana. She’d talked to Ryan a couple of times about drug use as casually as she could. So far, she’d gotten no indication that Ryan was taking drugs or even