Chapter 27
Iend up being seated next to Goofy at Carson’s birthday dinner. Alex and Tara paid extra for the entire Mickey Mouse cast to make an appearance. Carson was great with Mickey, Minnie, and the girl duck whose name escapes me. But Goofy freaks Carson out and was banished to the opposite side of the table…next to me.
“Please stop,” I say in exasperation to Goofy. He just poked me in the arm for the third time.
I’m extra agitated because I haven’t heard from Amani. She says she’s fine, but I know today was a tough day for her. Her appointment with Dr. Michel was this morning. She didn’t want me to go, thinking I’d make a fuss over nothing. Honestly, I think she wanted to be emotional in private, which I have no choice but to respect. We should’ve had ample time to meet up afterward and drive to Carson’s birthday celebration together, but she texted me saying she got held up and would meet me here as soon as she could.
I had no choice but to leave her ticket at will-call and go celebrate my nephew’s birthday with my family.
“Dude!” I glare at Goofy, who just tickled my ear. “Are you that bored?” He nods and shrugs. Then he fans himself with his giant dog paw. “And you’re burning up in that damn suit, huh?”
He nods again.
I fish out my wallet and pull out a few one-hundred-dollar bills. “How about you go get the birthday boy a churro or Dippin’ Dots or something? I’ll tell them I sent you, so you’re not abandoning your post.”
Goofy awkwardly takes the bills, barely able to grasp them in his comically large paw. He hands two bills back.
“Oh no, man. Take it. The rest is your tip. Please go get some water and then take your time before coming back.”
He puts his paw over his stomach and acts out a belly laugh before getting up and waving bye to the table. No one’s paying attention except Tara’s goofball dad. He bellows, “Bye, Goofy! Come back and see us soon!”
I pull out my phone and check my texts.
Amani
Almost there. Traffic is a nightmare. Only able to text you because I’m at a standstill.
Me
Please drive safe. Do the valet parking when you get here. I’ll take care of it when you leave.
Amani
Because you don’t want me to have to walk? Or because you don’t want me to park your Porsche amongst the common people’s cars?
Me
…
Yes.
Amani
*laughing emoji*
“Did you just send Goofy away?” Alex asks as he plops down in the empty seat next to me.
“It was that, or I was going to deck him.”
Alex laughs. “Sorry, little brother. I know this is boring.”
“No, not at all. I’m happy to be here, but I don’t want to crowd you guys. It looks like you’re doing great with Tara’s family. This is day three or four of the trip?”
“Three,” Alex answers, running his hand through his hair. “Or in other words, tantrum number fifty-eight, meltdown number twelve, and about ten ice cream bribes later.” He laughs. “Carson’s too young for all this shit, but look at her.” Alex nods at Tara across the banquet room. Her strawberry-blond hair is in a fancy updo, her face painted with heavy princess makeup. She’s posing for pictures with Carson, who’s dressed as a prince with a crown. My mom is behind the photographer, snapping away with her phone.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her since that day at Piermont, but I gave her my number. We’ve texted back and forth a few times, just mindless small talk. Sometimes I wake up and it’s nice to know she’s sort of back in my life. Other days I wake up and I’m still angry, remembering what it felt like to look for her in the hospital. Or the horrified look on Dad’s face when he read that damn letter. I need small steps forward with her.
“Tara looks like she’s having fun,” I say, listening to her howls of laughter.
Alex scoffs. “Oh, this trip was one hundred percent for her. I think she was repressed as a child. She spent all her time studying. No adult should have this much fun at Disneyland.”
We both laugh.
“Guess what,” Alex says.
“What?”
“Tomorrow night, Tara’s parents are watching Carson, and I’m taking her on our first official date.”
I scrunch up my face. “At Disneyland?”
Alex shrugs. “It was her idea. I’m rolling with it. Apparently, the restaurant we’re going to is going to serve us spaghetti on one plate, and we’ll be sharing a giant meatball.”
“Wow. Lady and the Tramp?” I ask. “That’s your big play?” I laugh at him, then nudge his shoulder with mine. “I’m happy for you. You guys make a beautiful family. I like Tara. I hope she’s my sister-in-law one day.”
Alex winks. “Working on it. Speaking of which, where’s Amani? I thought you were bringing her.”
“She got stuck at the doctor’s.”
“How’d everything with IVF work out for her?”
I shake my head, tapping my fist against my lips. “It didn’t take, and she’s out of time.” I blow out a breath.
“Oh shit, man. How’s she doing?”
“She just found out a week ago. I think she’s still absorbing it.”
“Damn, I’m sorry.” Alex pats my shoulder firmly. “She doesn’t have to come to all this if she’s not feeling up to it.”
Reaching under my chair, I pull out a medium-sized box. “Are you kidding? She’s been so excited to give Carson his present. She wouldn’t miss it.” I shake the box, then hand it to Alex.
“Do you know what it is?” Alex asks, viewing the box covered in kaleidoscope-colored wrapping paper.
“Tennis shoes that quack like Donald Duck every single time he takes a step.” I try to hold back my smile. “They light up in the dark, too.”
Alex levels a stare at me. “Burn those.”
I burst out laughing. “Not a chance. Carson is going to love them.”
He shakes his head, giving me a reluctant smile. “Tara probably will too. Geez. All right, I have to check on the caterers. They’re supposed to be bringing the cake out.” Alex rises, smoothing out the wrinkles in his pants.
“Hey,” I call after him and he turns around. I hold up Amani’s gift with a shit-eating grin. “Don’t forget Carson’s present.”
Alex rolls his eyes and snatches the box from me.
* * *
I’m stuffed from dinner, but the smell of fresh funnel cakes is a siren’s call for me. I have an affinity for refined food, but there’s something about fried dough with sugar. Donuts, churros, funnel cakes—they are my weakness. I’m about to peel myself off the green plastic bench and follow my nose to dessert, but a soft voice stops me.
“May I sit with you?”
My mother stands before me, looking sheepish. I debate telling her I was just on my way to grab a snack, but I know it takes courage for her to approach me. I don’t want to reject her today at Carson’s birthday party.
“Of course.” I gesture to the space beside me. “Where’s Carson?”
“They went back to the room to change him for the pajama party parade.”
“Gotta love Disneyland.”
“Are you going?” Mom asks.
“Nah,” I say. “I’m just waiting for Amani. Carson’s enjoying his time with Tara’s family. They’re only in town for a couple more days. Let them soak up their quality time while they can.”
She sighs, stretching out her legs. “I feel the same. Plus, I’m exhausted. Disneyland is quite the workout.” She holds up her wrist, showing off a pink fitness watch. “I quadrupled my normal steps today.”
I chuckle. “Good for you, Mom.”
There’s an awkward, silent lull, until she finally says, “Well, I should head to the parking lot. Then the three-mile trek back to my car…if I can even find it.”
“I’ll walk you out. It’s getting dark. I don’t want you going by yourself.”
I wait for her to stand up, ready to follow suit, but she doesn’t move. Instead, Mom stares at me, a pained smile on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
“You turned out to be such a gentleman,” she says. “No thanks to me.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I return a half smile. “I don’t know about that. I have my asshole moments. Believe me.”
Right now, I’m happy and in love. Amani rounds out my sharp edges. She softens me and makes me more forgiving. It’s the only reason my mom and I can be in the same theme park right now, let alone sharing a bench.
“No, sweetheart. I’ve met assholes. You’re not one of them. Your dad did a wonderful job raising you. I’m, uh…” She’s smiling even though tears fall down her cheeks. Quickly brushing them away with the back of her palm, she continues. “I’m very sorry. I’ve waited a long time to say that to you in person, and I thought I’d have better words. But that’s it, Adam. I am truly very sorry. And I am very proud of the man you’ve become despite everything I did.”
I clench my fists together to resist the urge to hug her. I’m still not ready.
“Thank you. But we don’t have to do all this today. It’s Carson’s birthday, and it was such a nice day. Let’s just keep it pleasant, okay?”
“Sure. But just so you know, when you’re ready, whatever you need to get off your chest, I can take it. I deserve it. If it helps us move forward, you can call me every name in the book.”
I scoff. “You sure?”
She laughs nervously and tucks her short hair behind her ears. “Yes.”
“Fine then.” I turn toward her, waiting until she meets my gaze before I ask her the question that’s been on my mind for over twenty years. “What did I do wrong?”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “What do you mean?”
The tension strewn across my chest is making me uncomfortable. There’s all this pressure, and I’m craving relief. So I break open the dam to the thoughts I’ve kept locked up for most of my life. “You raised Alex just fine. He was near graduation when you left. But you couldn’t make it through raising me. Was I an awful son in comparison? Or just the straw that broke the camel’s back?”
Her eyes are bloodshot, the tears are pouring now, but she doesn’t wipe them away. She cries like Amani. The evidence is there—tears, blotchy cheeks, sniffling, but otherwise she’s completely composed. They treat their heartbreak like a minor inconvenience.
“You were a wonderful son. I didn’t leave because of you, Adam. I held on as long as I possibly could because of you. And I’m so sorry you’ve been blaming yourself.”
“When I was eight, Dad told me you were sick and went away to get better. When I got a little older, he explained what chronic depression was. But none of us saw the signs. I only remember you smiling when I was little.”
She sniffles as she nods fervently. “I meant it that way. I smiled so much to hide how deeply lost I was in my sadness.”
“About what?” I ask. “We had a nice life. I remember being happy.”
“That’s what anxiety and depression can do. It can steal your perception and turn happiness into despair. You could look at a perfect picture, but depression will create a giant flaw. You could have the perfect family, but depression will say you don’t belong.”
I’m not sure I completely understand, but I see the anguish in her eyes. The pain she’s reflecting was real and scary, and she coped by running away. Now she’s back, asking for my forgiveness.
Does she deserve it? I don’t know. Does she have it anyway?
“Mom, do you want to go to lunch next week? Just me and you. There’s an amazing tapas place called Luna’s. I only take people I care about there. We can get caught up and start fresh. What do you think?”
She covers her mouth and nods so hard her hair is whipping her in the face. “Yes, I’d love that. Any day, any time. I’m free. Even if I have something, I’ll cancel it.”
I smile. “I’m sure we can find a time that works for both of us.” When I look over my mom’s shoulder, about two feet away, Amani’s red hair fans out and whips around her shoulders as she spins in place. She stays turned as if I didn’t see her. “Baby, what are you doing?” I ask, laughing as I stand.
“Sorry,” she grumbles as she spins back to face me. “I was trying not to interrupt. I’ve been standing here for a solid five minutes.”
“How’d you find me?” I ask.
She points over my head to the giant Ferris wheel and holds up a brochure map. “You said you were sitting on a bench in front of the Ferris wheel.” She scrunches her nose at me. “Pretty clear instructions.”
“No, I told you to call me when you were at the front and I’d come get you.”
“Yeah. And right after I texted you and told you I didn’t need a babysitter. Then I did what I wanted to.”
“Sassy little thing.”
My mom lets out a laugh.
“Hi, Holly,” Amani says. “Nice to see you.”
“Nice to see you, sweetheart.” She stands, opens her arms, and Amani dives into her hug. I envy how easy that is for her. Amani’s relationship with my mom is untainted. It’s sweet to see, actually. I’m glad she got to meet this version of my mom. Hell, I’m glad she got to meet this version of me, too. My girl deserves everybody’s best version.
“I was just about to walk my mom out,” I say to Amani. “The park is closing for general admission in about forty-five minutes.”
Amani buries her face in her hands. “I missed everything,” she whines. “I’m so sorry. Did Carson love his shoes?”
“Sure,” I offer, seriously doubting that Alex opened the box.
“Was Alex annoyed?”
“Thoroughly.”
“Good,” Amani says with glee. “Two birds, one stone.”
I chuckle as I hold out my hand and pull her into my chest. Goddamn, she smells good. I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s a mixture of the perfume I used to hate but have grown to love again. Her minty shampoo. The face cream that has a hint of lemon essential oils. The combination is intoxicating. I inhale, and I relax. When she’s near me, I’m calm.
I kiss her in front of my mom. I don’t care. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”
“Definitely,” she says with an odd smile. I’ll ask her when we’re back home about her appointment. I just feel bad she drove all the way out here for nothing. Maybe I should book a room at the resort tonight. I’m willing to bet the presidential suites are available.
“All right.” I wrap my hand around Amani’s and then smile at my mom. “You ready? Let’s go.”
Amani looks around the theme park. The foot traffic is light. Everyone has taken their exhausted children home by seven-thirty. “I can’t believe I made it to Disneyland, and I didn’t get to ride anything. Lame.”
I glance at the Ferris wheel. “Line looks short.”
She beams at me. “Yeah?”
My mom plops back down on the bench. “Go. Go have some fun. I’ll be right here.”
“Okay, Mom…uh, be safe. Don’t talk to strangers,” I say. Amani squints her eyes and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. I ask her as we walk toward the line entrance, “Was that weird to say?”
“Oh, yeah.” She snorts in laughter. “Really awkward.”
I laugh with her and squeeze her hand. She squeezes right back. After weaving through several rows lined by metal railings, we’re nearly at the front of the line with about twenty people in front of us. I’m positive we won’t make it this round until the attendant bellows over the small crowd.
“Anyone interested in a stationary gondola? Parties of six or less.”
“Come on,” Amani says, tugging on my hand.
“Yeah? You don’t want one of the swinging ones? I thought you were more of a thrill-seeker.”
“I am,” she says. “But I also hate waiting in lines.”
I raise my hand in the air to catch the attendant’s attention. “We’ll take it,” I call out. The rest of the line scoots out of the way as we squeeze past. Amani murmurs “thank you” and “excuse us” as we body bump strangers on our way to the front of the line.
They load us into a pink cart with the girl duck whose name I still can’t remember. I slide into the bench next to Amani and ask, “What’s Donald Duck’s girlfriend’s name? It’s been driving me crazy all day.”
“All day? You could have googled it,” Amani says.
I give her a deadpan stare. “You know what? That didn’t even occur to me.”
She laughs as she drapes her legs over mine. “Daisy. Her name is Daisy Duck. She’s the only one without a painfully annoying voice.”
“Minnie Mouse is okay,” I say.
“What? Minnie is the worst. She sounds like she’s constantly huffing on a helium balloon.” Her smile is contagious. I was so happy to see her after an entire day of anticipating her arrival that I didn’t stop to notice how sexy she looks today.
Her hair is loose and wavy. She’s wearing a bright purple tank top that hugs her body, paired with black shorts. With such little clothes on, she looks cold. “Baby, I wish I had a jacket to give you.” I run my hands up and down her legs, trying to warm them. It’s late January in California. When the sun disappears at dusk, the temperatures drop dramatically.
“I’m okay. My fault. I dressed for the afternoon. I’m so sorry again I’m late. Did Alex or Tara notice? I feel bad they paid for my ticket. Were they upset?”
“Nah, they just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“How was the birthday cake?” she asks, pumping her eyebrows.
“I want to say it was gross so you don’t feel bad missing out but…”
“Dammit. It was magical, wasn’t it?”
I grimace. “Yeah. Really fucking good. A chocolate layer, then a strawberry layer, and they used this whipped frosting that I swear had crack cocaine in it.”
“Very inappropriate ingredient for a toddler’s birthday cake.” She shakes her head.
“I agree, but what sells, sells.”
She cackles at my joke as the Ferris wheel lunges forward and a recording plays overhead, instructing us to keep our arms, legs, and children in the vehicle at all times.
“Amani, what’s going on?” I finally ask as my smile fades, but her cheeks are still bunched and flushed from smiling so hard.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought today was going to be a tough day, but you’re so smiley. I know I’m not that funny. I’m medium-funny.”
She laughs again, proving my point.
“See? Are you a little high right now?”
She rolls her eyes. “Adam, I just drove two hours through very congested L.A. traffic. Obviously, I’m not high.”
“Then what is it, summer girl?”
Now she’s wearing a wicked little smile. But she waits until we’re at the peak of the Ferris wheel, surrounded by the perfect sunset view of California Adventure Park. We’re so high up, the pink and orange strips of sky seem within reach.
“Are you still all in?” she asks.
I know what she means before she clarifies, and it nearly knocks the wind out of me. I’m not a crier, but my eyes start to water. “No fucking way, Amani. What’re you saying right now?”
“Adam, I’m saying I’m pregnant.”