Chapter 16 #2
We finish putting on our outer layers in the mudroom where the invite hangs, haunting me.
There’s something about it that irks me.
The way it hangs, front and center, like a reminder.
That it’s hanging at all. It feels more like a jury duty summons than a wedding invite.
Alex said he doesn’t plan to go, yet he hasn’t thrown the invite out…
“Ready, baby?” He asks, pulling my beanie over my head for me, then kissing me quickly. I blush, loving him like this. If it could be like this forever, I would give him every last day of my life.
“Yeah,” I smile.
Delta barks when we stand there staring at each other with loving eyes, taking too long.
“We’re going!” I tell him with a pat on his head.
We open the door to a still-dark morning. The air is brisk, and our breath comes out in puffs as soon as we step outside. No amount of caffeine could ever replicate this feeling. This. This is the high I was weaning for yesterday that never came.
I actually skip to catch up to Alex and Delta.
We walk silently, just like we used to until we get to the boulder. I climb up first, then take Delta’s leash, who bounds up, followed by Alex.
He sits down, spreading his legs, then motions for me to sit between them.
With my back to his chest, we sit facing the lake and wait for the show.
Soon, the purple will pale. Then, an orange will creep up.
The clouds will turn pink, and before you know it, we’ll be bathed in the first morning light.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask him once we’re settled and Delta’s busy chewing on a stick.
“Great.” He squeezes me from behind. Me too.
And then it’s silent again, aside from the sounds of our easy breathing and the dog gnawing and the light breeze tangling the pine boughs.
I wonder, “What are you thinking about?” Usually, we’ll just sit here until one of us shares something, but now, I want more. I want to know everything.
“I was wondering…if you’re sore.” My cheeks, my chest, everything heats. I shake my head no. “Good,” he says.
“Then I was thinking about your birthday.” My birthday? That would be a first — maybe ever — that someone was thinking about my birthday, and no less before it even happened. “Any special requests?” I shake my head again because I don’t need anything.
“Okay. Don’t make it easy for me or anything.” He pinches me, and I screech. “But then I thought about your mom. And…” He sighs, “I’m trying not to make a big deal of it, especially if you don’t want to, but I’m having a hard time letting it go.” Ugh, my heart.
“I know exactly what you mean because I’m not going to lie. I hate your mom and dad more than just a little.” We sit there a little longer before I finally say something.
“I’ve had time, a decade really, to process everything and work through it. It’s not holding me back, at least not anymore. Okay?” I let him know that, and then I wonder if it’s the same for him. If he’s worked it all out.
“Did you ever go to counseling?” I feel him nod behind me.
“More counseling than you could ever imagine, and still, it’s a struggle.” I weave my hand between his fingers, my bare hands through his gloved ones.
“What were you like as a Dad?” I can tell he isn’t ready for the question. Maybe it was the wrong time, or I asked it in the wrong way, but I’m curious to know what Alex was like with Tally.
“I don’t know, Em, every time I think about it…I just think about how I failed her.” A deep aching fills my abdomen.
“What’s your favorite memory of her?” I ask something more specific to try and see him with her.
“Probably her first birthday, watching her eat cake for the first time.” I picture a one-year-old sitting in a high chair with cake — everywhere. And I picture Alex laughing, maybe with his wife, but I focus on the look I can imagine on his face as he cleaned off little hands and wiped down a face.
“I feel like a terrible father because there’s so much I don’t remember. There was a lot I missed, traveling for work. And that’s the hardest part of it all. Not remembering when all I want is to relive each moment.”
“Do you feel like, in the future…you’d want to do it? Again? That is, have kids? And a family?” My question comes out disjointed and wordy. My heartbeat practically halts in anticipation.
“Yeah, Em. It is.” I close my eyes, able to breathe again. “Is that something you want?” His voice is low.
This time, I reply with more than just a nod. I say, “Yes. I-I worry about being like my mom, but I don’t think I’m anything like her. Really.”
“You’re not,” he says.
“Just like you’re not like your father,” I tell him.
The clouds overhead start to tinge pink, and once the sun is fully up, I know we’ll turn back to head home.
“I think I’ve done more healing sitting on this rock with you than I have in 20 years of therapy.” God, that was a compliment in the highest degree. “Because sitting here with you, all I keep thinking is that I could do it again. With you. We could be a family, Em.”
I want so badly to believe him. My ovaries ache, my empty womb yearns, and I want it. With him, too.
“Maybe in a couple years…” I say, tempering expectations because would we even make it a couple years? I’m not sure, though I hope.
When we start needing to squint against the bright sun, I stand, holding out a hand for him to take.
Before I climb down, he pulls me in around the waist and kisses me. It’s a kiss like none other before, like he’s giving me something just now. Like he wants an imprint of this moment on his soul forever. I want one, too. I want more than just an imprint.
I picture a blonde-haired baby on our hip. I picture hikes to the cove in the mornings that take twice as long because someone’s learning how to walk. I picture the both of us standing around a high chair, cleaning up cake, and laughing.
I picture a life with him. A life I would love.