Chapter 35 Jumping Off Point
JUMPING OFF POINT
LEAH
“Idon’t know what to do,” Lourdes stared at her building.
We stood outside, having just put her parents in a cab.
After the news of her father’s cancer, everything felt small.
She was lost. I was here to pick her up, but I didn’t know what to do.
We spent all afternoon with her parents trying to hold it together.
She did the typical WASP-y thing—just ignored it ever happened.
And I was chasing her around waiting to catch her.
Now, with them gone, she could finally come down.
“Hey, Lou, are you hungry?”
“Huh?”
“For dinner? Would you like dinner?”
“I… I don’t know, darling.”
“What about…” I thought back. “Curry? How does that sound.”
She grinned. “I would love a curry.”
I smiled. “Then come with me.”
I held her hand as we flagged another cab. We ventured to a place I eyed for ages. It was more upmarket than the curry house where we’d talk about everything and anything back in London, but it would do. We sat, chose a wine, and ordered a quarter of the menu.
A silence befell her. We sat looking out the window as people passed. I gave her space.
“You know, Dad doesn’t look like he’s dying.” Lourdes said, sounding spacey. “Right?”
I rushed around to the other side of the booth, looping my arm around her shoulders for the inevitable crash. Before I even made it, she was in tears.
“He looked good, Lou. He’s strong. He wants to live a long while. And he wants to spend it with you. How lovely is that bit?”
“He wants grandchildren,” Lourdes sobbed. “And I cannot give him those. Not right now—probably not ever.”
I rubbed her back as our appetizer arrived. She looked up, still crying, and took a bite of the pakora.
“It’s good,” she mumbled. “I’m okay. Leah… I just don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t, either, but… you must live. Give yourself time, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. “Now go back over there. I hate couples who do this.”
I sniggered and moved back to my original spot.
“Leah?”
“Yes,” I answered.
Face pensive, she asked. “Why do you want kids?”
“Because I love them,” I said. “Because I want to bring more good into the world and I think I have something to offer.”
“That sounds self-obsessed.”
“Look, I think my dads did a great job with us. I could do much worse than to raise a kid who hopefully does more than I did—a legacy.”
“And you’d just… do that?”
“Yeah, it’s just a jumping off point, but.. I want to have kids,” I admitted.
“I just don’t think I could. My childhood wasn’t like yours. When I used to see you with your dads—like on opening night—it used to make me rage. They dote. They think the sun shines out of your arse, Leah.”
I blushed.
“I don’t blame them. My girlfriend is amazing, but… she’s not perfect.”
I beamed.
“What?”
“Girlfriend. You called me your girlfriend.”
Lourdes turned bright red. “Well, you are.”
“Yes, but I am acknowledging and encouraging you to say it more.”
“Fine. Okay. I will,” a slight smile crossed her face, lighting up her blue eyes before she turned to Serious Lourdes. “Leah, the point is they think you are perfect. And that’s the problem.”
“To them, I am. I’m their baby.”
“Well, that’s because good parents love their children in a delulu way, Leah.”
“Is that bad?”
She thought a moment, tipping her head. “No. I just don’t know how to do it. Because I’m not maternal.”
“Says who?” I giggled.
“Says my mother—and me.”
“Lou, you take care of the young ones in the chorus. You peck at them on occasion—drink your water, please sleep, you need more food than that for dancing—and that’s very maternal.”
“I always freak out when I think about a baby tearing me in two.” Lourdes grimaced. “Not for me. Why would you sign up for that, Leah?”
“Because I think birth is powerful,” I said. “And because I want to feel this thing I created move within me and grow attached to me. I want to see their little face and go ‘I made that’ and recognize bits of myself in their mannerisms.”
She tucked hair behind her ear and rested a hand on her wrist. “And yet… you never want to say who your biological father is.”
“I don’t talk about it because it always sets off a firestorm. To my dads, it was important that they both felt like a father. I was the embryo that won. I just happened to be Papa’s embryo. Dad’s didn’t make it. But they both raised me.”
“I don’t think it’s just your Papa, though. You have Patrick’s mannerisms, too. It’s not just nature. Nurture matters,” Lourdes said.
“How?”
“You always sort things out in front of you. Like your menu and napkin. They must be perfectly square and in line. I watched your father do the same thing—Patrick. And you have his patience. You are both of theirs.”
“So, then… it doesn’t matter,” I said.
“You’re right,” Lou murmured.
“Lourdes, I really want to be a parent, but not at the expense of partnership. Also, you don’t owe your dad grandkids. That’s fucking dumb! You aren’t a broodmare!”
“Well, I mean, maybe it’s a sign?”
“What?”
She didn’t finish as our food arrived. We dug in using a massive plate of naan. The waiter had to have thought we were insane with ordering four entrees. I would, however, live off these for the next few days completely. Not only did I not cook, but I had also no time for it.
“A sign,” Lourdes picked up. “That I should have kids.”
“Huh? Lou, that’s insane—”
“You want a baby. So, let’s have a baby.”
“It’s not uncomplicated,” I noted. “At all, Lou.”
“I know. But… I don’t know what to do. What if I shouldn’t be a parent?”
“I think that’s ludicrous. The only reason you shouldn’t be a parent is because you don’t want to be.”
“You would really raise babies with me?” Lourdes asked, as if doubting my answer.
I dabbed the vindaloo from my lips. “Yeah. I would love to do that, honestly. But I don’t think we’re anywhere near there. I think you, Lourdes, need to go on a journey for a bit. See what works.”
“A journey where?”
“Talk to your dad,” I said. “Ask him why he wanted to be a parent. Chart that path, maybe? I asked my dads’ questions all the time when I was in the figuring-it-out stage with Rich. They were utterly candid. But the best part? We shared so many beautiful memories.”
“I would love to just spend a day with him—maybe take him the to the Guggenheim. He’d love that shit. But… Mum would hate it.”
I knew she was right, but I also had a way to distract mommy dearest if I needed to. Lourdes deserved time with her dad. I loved this woman enough to sacrifice my own mental health.
“Let me deal with that,” I said.