Chapter 15 #3
There’s a jukebox off to the side playing Ella Fitzgerald’s “It’s a Lovely Day Today” and on the wall are retro photos of customers in this very building eating ice cream.
The selection of flavors displayed behind the cool glass is simple, and there’s something charming about seeing options like vanilla and rocky road.
Adam gets a double chocolate cone while I order strawberry, and we end up eating our ice creams propped against the hood of Ford’s truck.
“What were you like as a teenager?” I ask, watching a few teens enter the shop.
“Oh, you know…” Adam starts. “Charming, funny, witty, smart.”
“You forgot humble,” I say, and he reaches over and pinches my side. I think back to my time in high school. “I don’t think we would’ve gotten along.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I was awkward.” I shrug. “You probably just wouldn’t have noticed me.”
He takes a lick of his cone and keeps his eye on the teens in front of us. “Not possible.”
Up the street, a mom chases her toddler, who’s wearing overalls with sunflowers all over them and a matching hat.
“Are you kidding me?” I squeeze Adam’s arm. “How freaking cute is she?”
“Okay, that is a very adorable kid,” he agrees. “Why don’t they make those for adults?”
“The overalls or the hat?” I ask.
“Both,” he says.
“You could pull it off.” I nod. “I’d probably have to get a pair too.”
“Very Mary-Kate and Ashley of us,” he says, and I laugh. The little girl ends up falling, and while no harm was done, she lets out a terrible cry that makes me wince. The mom scoops her up and bounces her against her hip, trying to soothe her. “Do you want kids?” Adam asks.
As unbelievable as it may sound, the idea of having kids has never really crossed my mind.
At least not seriously. Can I imagine having a child right now?
Absolutely not. There’s far too much I need to work on for myself before being capable of caring for another human.
Could I imagine having a child with a partner and a home in the future?
Possibly, but the image is fuzzy. Not because I don’t want it, but because it’s never felt like a possibility.
In kindergarten, there were girls who would play with their baby dolls and push a pretend stroller around at recess.
That was never me. Some people are born to have kids.
Have you ever met someone with a child and you think wow, yup, they were meant to be a mom.
I’m not one of those people, and my own mom definitely isn’t.
People have children because they want a family, and what do I know about families?
“I don’t think so,” I say, and Adam lets out a noncommittal noise. “Is that bad?” I turn to him.
“No,” he says as he raises his eyebrows. “Not at all.”
“I mean, if I’m fortunate enough to have a baby one day, that would be incredible.” I take a breath. “But I’m not worried about living an unfulfilled life without one.”
He nods and takes a bite out of his ice-cream cone. In the time I’ve known Adam, we’ve never talked about this, and I’m painfully aware of the silence coming from his end.
“What about you?” I ask.
“I want kids,” he says. “Christmas morning with the family, birthday parties, graduations—all of those things, you know?”
“Mhm,” I say, but no, I don’t know.
“I want what my parents have,” he says.
We leave it at that.
At one point after dinner, which consisted of barbecued ribs and chicken Alfredo, Ford refers to Audrey, Sarah, and myself as the girls and it feels good. We’ve been here only a day and I feel like I belong.
Ford and Adam plant themselves in the living room to watch a football game while Sarah does her homework at the kitchen table.
Ford, an older version of Adam, is so calm, collected, and always wanting to make everyone feel at home.
It would’ve been nice to grow up with him as a dad.
Sarah, a younger version of Audrey, is whip-smart and confident.
She has a lot of the characteristics I didn’t have growingup.
Glancing out the window to the backyard, I see Audrey sitting under a maple tree with a cup of tea in hand. The fairy lights are on and she’s wearing her large white cardigan from earlier. Our eyes meet through the glass, and she waves me to come outside.
“Did you get enough to eat?” she asks as I carefully open the back door.
“Oh yes, I’m stuffed.” I take a seat beside her. “Thank you.”
“And do you have rehearsals tomorrow morning?” Throughout the night she was asking all sorts of questions about the theater, more than my own mother ever has.
I shake my head. “I’m off for the next few days.”
“Good, good.” She pats my knee. “Are you nervous?”
Most people have asked me only if I’m excited, which of course I am. Nobody has ever asked me if I’m nervous.
“Terrified,” I say honestly.
“Embrace that,” she says with a finger pointed. “That’s what it means to be human.” She takes a sip of her tea. “Are your parents excited?”
“Oh.” I shake my head. “M-My dad left when I was still a kid and…I’m not really close with my mom.”
She gives me a new look, but I know it all too well, because it’s the same look Adam gives me when he wants me to know that things are going to be okay.
“Well, that’s their loss, isn’t it,” she says. “Adam and Sarah don’t know this, because their grandpa passed away before they were born, but my father wasn’t very nice. He never laid a hand on me, but my mother wasn’t as lucky.” She places her hand on my lap. “Blood doesn’t mean you’re family.”
Maybe it’s the night chill in the air, but a shiver runs through me. She’ll never know what those words mean to me. “How are you feeling?” I squeeze her hand.
“Terrified.” She smiles, and then shifts. “June, I’m really going to miss the two of you being here.”
Today has been such an intimate experience, and I’m not ready to go back to reality either. For many reasons.
“I’m happy Adam invited me,” I say, and she nods like she knows. “I’m sorry it took this long for me to come.”
“You know, Adam is very special,” she says. “Every mother says this of their children, but he really is.”
“I know he is,” I agree. In a way, it feels like I’m sharing one of my deepest secrets.
“He’s lucky to have you.”
“Oh no, Audrey.” I shake my head. “I’m lucky to have him. ”
Ford’s at the window looking at us and Audrey waves to him, signaling we’ll be inside soon.
“June…” She holds my hand, and her frail touch makes me start to tear up. I barely know this woman, yet she’s somehow more of a mother to me than my own. “I hope you will come back again.”
I place my other hand on top of hers and take in this moment, knowing it will be one I’ll always look backon.
“Me too.”