Chapter 6 William #4
“Well,” I said, picking up the wine bottle and refilling her cup.
“It’s more that I don’t like hurting people, but I’m not sure I want to change.
My mom would love it if I had a major change of heart about getting married and having kids.
She’s always offering to introduce me to one of her Filipina friend’s daughters so I can just get hitched and have a whole pack of children for her to dote on. ”
“Is that what your mom wants? For you to marry a Filipina?” Kit asked. I looked over and saw that Kit was sitting up and more attentive, but she looked away when I made eye contact.
“Oh, nah. It’s not that at all. My mom doesn’t care who I am with,” I said, shaking my head.
“Are you kidding me? She moved to the states by herself and was working as a line cook at Morehouse College’s cafeteria when she met my dad.
Falling in love with a college student wasn’t her plan at all.
She described it as being struck by lightning, and my dad equally adored my mom.
I remember that. So, she would never say no if I was in love the way she was in love with my dad.
I’m just not sure that kind of love exists anymore. ”
Kit nodded with a slight frown. “Yeah, I don’t know if it does, either.”
I tilted my head to the side and said, “But I can tell you one thing. My mom is ready for a grandchild. And I don’t think she cares how I get the child, but she is ready for me to have a kid so she can have a grandchild.”
“Fair enough.” Kit laughed, but then with a touch of sorrow, she said, “I wish I could have done it all when my mom was still alive. I think part of me was tempted to make things work with Matt so my mom could be there for my wedding and maybe even kids, and Matt would have done it. But I knew that if my mom wasn’t sick, I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea. ”
I turned and looked at her. “I get it. Them missing the big moments. It is so hard, and I want to tell you that it gets easier, but I think over time it just gets different—the grief. Expected, so you know how to carry it in a way that isn’t out front, but it’s always there.
And so, in some ways, those big milestone moments, the graduations and birthdays and celebrations, you learn how to cope with their absence.
” I paused and looked at the wine glass in my hand.
Normally, I would have stopped there, but something in me pushed through, and I opened up.
“It’s the little moments. The unexpected moments of missing my dad that get me.
Wishing he had taught me how to shave or how to drive.
Wishing he could have helped me when I was worried I was going to flunk out of college.
Wishing I could have talked to him about the Dodgers winning the World Series or the ending of Sopranos.
Wondering what his favorite type of whiskey was.
Wondering if he smoked cigars. Wondering which side of the G.O.A.T.
debate he’d be on—Michael Jordan or Lebron James.
Wondering what he’d look like as an old man.
” My voice cracked. “Sorry.” I cleared the lump in my throat that had formed.
“Sorry to be a downer on Christmas Eve. This is usually why I spend the holiday alone. I don’t want to ruin it for… ”
I looked over at Kit. Tears were streaming down her face.
“Oh, geez. I’m sorry,” I said. I instinctively slid over and reached for her.
She folded into me, buried her head in my shoulder, and softly wept while I held her.
I patted her on the back and tried to keep my hands in appropriate places.
After a few minutes, she pulled away and looked up at me, her long lashes glistening with tears.
Kit wiped her eyes, and I scooted back a bit to give her space even though I wanted so badly to pull her back to me, cup her beautiful face in my hands, and kiss her.
Kit sighed and confessed, “My mom loved Christmas. That’s why I get so into it every year.
I think the artist in her loved the decorations.
She called it a visual expression of spirit and community.
She told me that well-done decorations meant something.
It was a way for people to express their joy, hope, and love during the holidays.
I think that’s why I was being so critical of your tree, and I’m sorry I did that.
My mom would have thought your tree was beautiful. ”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I tried to lighten the mood. “You know what I think we need?”
“What’s that?” Kit asked, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her T-shirt nightgown.
“To open this second bottle of wine.”
Kit let out a laugh and nodded. I went to the kitchen to get the corkscrew and a second bottle of wine. When I got back, Kit had turned the lights off so just the glow of the Christmas tree and fireplace lit the room. The TV was on.
“I picked out a movie for us to watch,” Kit said, tucking her legs underneath herself as I joined her on the sofa.
I settled back in on my end of the sofa. I put my phone down on the coffee table, refilled our wine glasses, and said, “Okay, so what are we watching?”
“Die Hard.”
“I thought you wanted to watch a Christmas movie.”
Kit looked at me and deadpanned, “This is a Christmas movie.”
“Wait, you said my team’s Christmas tree didn’t have enough holiday spirit and you think Die Hard is a Christmas movie. The nerve!” I joked.
Kit busted out laughing as she started the movie.