His Number Changed So I Changed My Life Chapter 39
Rome was warmer in autumn than New York.
My mother woke up early every morning.
First, she would check her pill organizer, then she’d open the curtains and watch the café downstairs carry its tables and chairs out to the sidewalk.
On the third day of our trip, we got lost near the Spanish Steps.
My mother refused to admit she had misread the map.
“I just wanted to take a route with fewer tourists.”
“This route doesn’t even have any shops.”
“That’s why there are fewer tourists.”
We walked for an extra twenty minutes and eventually found a family-run restaurant tucked away in a narrow alley.
The owner didn’t speak much English. My mother ordered by pointing at dishes on another table, and we ended up with two plates of pasta far larger than either of us could finish.
Halfway through the meal, she suddenly asked, “How did you know Parker was cheating?”
My fork paused over my plate.
She had never asked about the details before.
“If I tell you, you probably won’t believe me.”
“I’m over sixty,” she said. “Whether I believe it or not won’t stop me from listening.”
So I told her everything.
From the first time I saw the number above my father’s head in eighth grade, to Parker’s number changing from 1 to 2, and then to 3.
My mother listened quietly.
“So you can see mine, too?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
I lowered my gaze and twirled a bit of pasta around my fork.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because it can only tell me how many people someone has slept with. It can’t tell me whether they were cherished, whether they had regrets, or what choices they’ll make in the future.”