I fumble with the door to the apartment. Or rather, I try to open it, but the key jams again, and I have to jiggle it for a while before it finally gives way. I’ve been meaning to get the lock replaced for ages. I’ve mentioned it to the landlord, but he couldn’t care less about the inconveniences of his tenants. He’s already letting us live here for next to nothing.
“I thought it was burglars!” Marco sighs with relief as he meets me in the hallway. “I was about to call the cops.”
“Oh, come on. If someone broke into our place, they’d be in for the biggest disappointment of their lives,” I say with a wry smile. “There’s nothing here worth stealing. But I appreciate the vigilance. How’s it going? What’ve you been up to all day?”
Guilt gnaws at me for leaving my little guy to spend his summer break wandering the streets. Last year, I at least managed to scrape together enough for a cheap summer camp so he’d have some good memories. This year, though, everything’s gone to pot. Just another rough patch.
Surprisingly, my son looks perfectly content. No, more than that—his face is practically glowing with happiness. I’m almost afraid to ask what’s got him in such a good mood. I just hope he hasn’t dragged home another stray pup that we’ll have to nurse back to health and find a home for.
“What’s up?” I ask cautiously, kicking off my shoes and wiggling my aching toes. Ten hours of running between tables takes its toll. A few more years of this, and I’ll be on a first-name basis with varicose veins. “Spill it.”
“You haven’t heard the news?!” His eyes widen in disbelief.
“What news?”
“So you haven’t heard…” Marco waves a hand dismissively. “They’re filming the new season of *Shattered* right here in our town!”
It takes every ounce of willpower not to let my son see the lump forming in my throat. The news hits like a sucker punch—so unexpected, so painful, that I feel like crying.
“Are you sure?” I ask, clinging to a shred of hope.
“Yes! They’re starting to build the sets soon! This is the best thing that could ever happen in our nowhere town, right?”
I don’t answer, just nod and head to the kitchen. I grab a mug, fill it with tap water, and take a sip. I’ve struggled to come to terms with the fact that my son idolizes the man who once shattered my heart. It’s hard to see his face on the posters above Marco’s bed. It’s hard to catch his gaze on the TV screen, and it’s nearly unbearable to hear his voice every day. But to see him in person… I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
“Do you think I’ll get to meet Detective Harrow? Maybe he’ll even give me an autograph!”
“Detective Harrow isn’t real. He’s just a character played by a man you don’t know.”
But a man I know all too well.
Marco pulls a face. At eight years old, he’s already a master of sarcastic expressions. If I got a dollar every time I saw that look, we’d have climbed out of debt long ago.
“I know it’s Damian Levitt. He’s awesome… every movie he’s in becomes a hit. Are we going to the set? I bet they’ll have tours for schoolkids. And even if they don’t, you’ll figure out a way to get us in, right, Mom?”
I muster the last of my self-control. I pull out the still-warm dinner from my bag and set the table.
“Enough about Harrow. Let’s eat,” I say, laying out the plates.
“What leftovers are we having tonight?” he asks, peering curiously at his plate. Of course, I don’t bring home actual leftovers from customers. The chef packs me extras or a staff meal to take home. The ‘leftovers’ joke is just a little family tradition.
“Roast potatoes with meat. And a tomato salad.”
“Sweet.”
I’m relieved I could make him happy, at least with this.
“Bon appétit,” I say, kissing the top of his head.
“Aren’t you eating?”
“Nah… I ate at the diner with the others,” I lie. Truth is, after hearing about Damian, my appetite has vanished. Not only do I not want to eat, I can barely breathe.
I leave Marco in the kitchen and step out onto the balcony. I open the window and let the breeze hit my face, hoping it’ll dry the tears welling in my eyes. I need to check if this is true. Maybe Marco got it wrong. Maybe the filming is happening in another town with the same name? I pull out my phone, open the browser, and type into the search bar: “Shattered Season 6.” Instantly, dozens of photos of Damian as the brooding Detective Harrow pop up. Trying to ignore the ache in my chest, I scroll further until I find an article on the show’s official page. “Filming for the sixth season of *Shattered* begins in August. This time, Detective Harrow will unravel a series of mysterious murders in a small, provincial town. A unique aspect of this season is that the story unfolds in Damian Levitt’s hometown. The lead actor personally chose the location, insisting there’s no better place to capture the show’s atmosphere.”
He’s not wrong. Our town is so bleak, it’s practically made for murder mysteries.
I slip the phone back into my pocket. I stare at the horizon, watching the weary sun dip behind the rooftops of the apartment blocks. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts… I feel like a lost little girl again, unsure of what to do.
Damian will be here… My heart aches with memories of our last encounter. We hurled so many hurtful words at each other back then… Maybe after all that, he won’t even want to look my way.
That might be for the best.