Chapter 26 Sacrilegious Pineapples and Family Promises Emmett #2
His eyes brighten, and he drags the back of his hand across them. “He does?”
“Uh-huh. Like, I’m really scared of spiders. Every time I see one, I scream and hide. But Emmett always comes and gets it, takes it outside, and lets me know I’m safe.”
This time, Abel releases Marlene, stepping all the way out from behind her.
He shifts from foot to foot, wringing his hands.
“I’m not very much scared of spiders.” He shrugs, and the simple action has absolutely no right being so fucking cute.
“Maybe I—I—I… maybe I could help Emmett catch ’em for you. ”
Cara clasps her hands at her heart. “That’s so sweet, Abel. That would help me feel safe. Hey, I have an idea. What if you tell us something you’re afraid of, and we can come up with a plan to help you feel safe?”
“I’m scared…” His eyes move between us, and I see the hesitancy, almost like he already knows the answer. “I’m scared of the dark.”
“Well, hey, that’s an easy one to solve.” I point up the stairs. “Cara picked out some star lights for you, and I hung them up in your bedroom this morning.”
“Star lights?” He shifts on his feet, glancing at the staircase. “I gots my own… I gots my own room?”
“Sure do, buddy.” Slowly, I stand, helping Cara to her feet too. I hold out my hand to him. “Would you like to go see it?”
Abel watches us for a long moment, those hands twining at his stomach.
I can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now, but I know it’s all valid.
Every fear, every hesitancy. It doesn’t matter that he knows who we are, or that I gave him a hat.
We’re still strangers to him, and he’s being sent to live in our home, forced to put all his trust in us—trust we haven’t earned yet.
I may not know exactly what I’m doing, but one thing I do know is that I’ll do everything I can to earn that trust.
Slowly, Abel steps forward, one cautious step at a time until he’s standing in front of us. And then, he tucks one hand into mine, the other into Cara’s, and says, “I’m ready to see my room.”
OUR DAY IS ALL THE best kinds of quiet and slow.
Marlene stays for an hour, going over Abel’s schedule, his monthly visits with his mom, Catharine, appointments with Emily, and visits Marlene will be making.
She makes sure he’s settled before she says goodbye, and we spend most of the afternoon exploring his room.
He doesn’t talk much, except to confirm a few times that the toys are for him to play with.
His favorite space, as predicted, is the window seat.
He climbs up there with Cara, face and hands pressed to the glass as he watches the world outside for nearly an hour, until he finally pulls a book off the shelves, handing it to Cara.
It’s slow, the way he inches backward in the seat, closer and closer to Cara, until he’s curled up in her lap, his back against her chest while she reads to him, one book after another as he pulls them all off.
And the entire time his head is on her shoulder, and his eyes are on her.
“What do you like on your pizza?” I ask when we head downstairs.
He cocks his head. “Pizza?”
“Pizza.” I grin at him as I open the fridge, pulling out the ingredients I prepared this morning. I peek at the dough rising in the covered bowl on the counter, then pull the cloth right off it and set the oven to preheat. “We’re going to make our own pizzas for dinner.”
He shakes his head, shrugging. “I don’t know what I like on pizza.”
Cara pauses as she spreads the toppings out on the counter. “Have you had pizza before, Abel?”
He shrugs again. “I don’t know.”
“Then we picked an excellent first dinner. We need lots of help making it. Here.” She pats the kitchen island. “Come sit.”
His eyes widen. “Up there?”
“Up here. We’ll keep you safe, and you’ll be able to reach better.”
He scratches his head through the beanie he won’t take off. “E-Elizabef and Peter don’t let me climb things. And I never helped to make the dinner, because-because… I’m too messy, Elizabef says.”
I close my eyes, breathing through the tension in my shoulders that comes with memories of my own childhood. Cara touches my back, and I sigh, returning my attention to the pizza dough as I separate it into three portions.
“It sounds like our expectations might be different from Elizabeth and Peter’s,” Cara tells him gently.
“And that’s okay. We’ll do our best to let you know what’s okay in this house, all right?
And you know something else?” She leans closer, like she has a secret to tell, and he’s every bit as captivated by my wife as I am.
“Emmett and me, we make messes all the time.”
“Really?” he asks, wide-eyed and hushed. “And you don’t get in big, big trouble?”
“Nope.”
I shake my head. “Never.”
He looks between me and the counter, then lifts his arms to me. “Can you help me?”
“Of course, buddy.” I groan loudly as I hoist him up, depositing him in the center of the island as he giggles.
“Wow! This is really high!”
“If you want down, you let me know, and I’ll help you.
” I slide a pan in front of him. “This is gonna be your pizza. First, we put sauce on it.” I hand him a spoon, and he watches as Cara and I spread sauce on our dough before he does the same.
He spills his second scoop, and I watch as dread fills his face.
He tosses the spoon, scooting toward the edge of the counter, and I hold up a hand, stopping him quietly.
“Whoa, buddy. It’s okay. All messes can be cleaned up. Plus, look at Cara.”
He glances at her, relief sliding through him when he sees the sauce she may or may not have accidentally-on-purpose sloshed over the edge of her pan and onto the counter. “Cara, look! We both make a mess!” He scoots back to the center of the counter. “What now?”
“Now we cover it with cheese.”
“Oh, I like cheese!” He grabs two fistfuls, grinning as he dumps it in the middle of his dough, shaping it into a mountain. He points to the tray of pepperoni, bacon, onion, mushrooms, peppers, olives, and pineapple. “What is those?”
“Those are toppings. You pick what you like and you put it on top of your pizza. Then it’s ready to cook in the oven.”
“I will liiike… pineapple!”
Cara snorts a laugh as I groan, the two of them loading their pizzas with pineapple. He smiles at her as she adds bacon, and then he adds it too.
“Emmett, you want some pineapple like my pizza?” he asks, holding out a fistful of fruit to me that absolutely, without a doubt, does not belong on fucking pizza.
“No thanks,” I say, which is far better than gagging, which is, coincidentally, my preferred response.
We slip the pizzas into the oven, turning the light on so Abel can watch them cook.
He’s so damn mesmerized with his pizza when we take them out, not because it’s a food he hasn’t tried before, but because it’s his.
His creation, something he made from start to finish, and the pride in his eyes as we sit at the kitchen table, it’s addicting.
I look at Cara, the way she’s watching him with that far-off look in her eyes, that gentle smile, and when our gazes meet, I know we’re thinking the same thing: I can’t believe we had a hand in that.
I snap a picture of the two of them as they lift their slices together before they take their first bite, and as I look down at their laughter, all the simple joy in their faces, I know this will be a picture I treasure forever.
Once dinner is cleaned up, Cara and Abel are making ice cream sundaes, and I’m done setting up the movie, I shoot the photo off to the group chat, knowing as cute as it is, it’s about to start a war.
Jennie: Sorry, back the fuck up. Is that… pineapple *vomit emoji* on little man’s pizza?
Olivia: Cara, what have you DONE to him?!
Carter: BLASPHEMY!
Rosie: Adam’s about to pop in here to tell you he’s not picky and anything can be good on pizza. Adam’s wrong.
Adam: *shrugging emoji* What’s not to like? Pineapple, good. Pizza, good.
Lennon: Sweet and salty? I could fuck with that in a heartbeat. And Jaxon likes anything I like.
Jaxon: Not true, wtf???? I like it, but not cuz len likes it. I’m my own person, with my own taste.
Garrett: Jesus christ, what the fuck is this? I take the dog out for a pee for two minutes and this is what I come back to??? PINEAPPLE on PIZZA?!
Carter: u know what, im willing 2 give it another try. my tastebuds have become more refined with age. ollie’s always saying im so refined, right ollie??
Olivia: Literally never, and also, Carter just wants pizza.
Update: Carter is ordering pizza. Update #2: Carter is ordering two pizzas, one with pineapple, one without, just in case.
Says he won’t eat both, but probably will.
Update #3: Can’t stop looking at this picture.
Pizza = horrible. Cara & Abel? Perfection.
Jaxon: ok, so len’s the one that got me to try pineapple on pizza in the first place, but so what?? that doesn’t mean i like whatever she likes. If anything, it means I have a wide palate.
Me: Imagine thinking liking pineapple on pizza means you have a wide palate?
Garrett: That’s fucking crazy LOL
“Emmett, look what me and Cara made.” Abel walks toward me in the living room, holding out a bowl filled with ice cream, topped with strawberries and gummy bears.
“Um, it’s got—it’s got… I picked chocolate, and strawberries, and bears.
Do you want some? I can share.” He scoops up a heaping spoonful, offering it to me.
Those hopeful green eyes widen as the spoon wobbles, and Abel watches in horror as his scoop of ice cream falls to the cream rug.
“I—I—I’m s-s-sorry,” he sputters, taking a step back. His foot catches on the edge of the rug, and I lunge across the couch, catching him with an arm around his waist before he can hit the ground, but not before his ice cream splatters, the bowl cracking in two.
“Abel,” Cara gasps, dashing in from the kitchen.