Page 125 of The Picasso Heist

“I’m not sure exactly, but at least a few months.”

“You mean I won’t get to see you every Saturday?”

I watch as her eyes well up with tears. I know exactly what she is thinking:Why does everyone leave me?

“I promise you I’ll be back,” I say. “And I’ll make you another promise. When I do come back, you’re going to have a lot to tell me about. A lot of really good things.”

“How do you know?” she asks.

It would be so simple to be the hero. I could tell her about the jobwaiting for her mother when she gets out of rehab, as a receptionist at one of Amir’s dealerships in Midtown Manhattan. Or about the rent-free apartment in one of the many buildings that Shen Wan owns in and around Chinatown and the Lower East Side. Michelle will have her own bedroom, where she can hang as many paintings as she wants.

The biggest gateway drug in the world is poverty,Miss D had said. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that gate open again.

“How do I know about all these good things? I just know,” I say to Michelle, wiping a tear from her cheek. “But it’s a promise. You trust me, don’t you?”

She nods. “Yes.”

I know she does, which is another reason I can’t be the hero. It has to be her mother. She is the one who needs to earn back Michelle’s trust. She has to stay clean and stay focused on being there for her daughter. Always and forever.

“I’ll miss you, sweetheart, but I’m going to write you letters, and you’ll write back, and it will be just like we’re hanging out together,” I say. “And soon we will be again, okay?”

Michelle wipes away her remaining tears. She unpins her painting from the corkboard. “Here,” she says, handing it to me. “I want you to take this with you.”

“But don’t you want to show it to your mother?”

“I’m going to make another. It will be a special one just for her.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I say.

We hug so tightly, I don’t want to let go. But I know I have to, and it isn’t just because there is a plane to catch.

I get back in the Suburban, and for the entire ride to the airport, I stare at Michelle’s masterpiece. Her ownAutumn Rhythm.My finger traces all the lines going zig-zag-zig.

Life rarely comes at you straight, and the shortcuts are few and farbetween. Sometimes, to get where you want to go, you need to take the long way. It’s the unexpected path, or at least the path that no one else expects.

If you’re looking for me, I’ll be off the grid for a while longer. But eventually I’ll be back around. This isn’t bye forever.

It’s just bye for now.