32. Love Is A Color And A Feeling #2
The velvet ribbon comes undone with ease, soft and plush beneath my fingertips.
I remove the top and inside is a small, drawstring gift bag, the kind you’d see at gift shops or given away as favors after a party or wedding.
A handful of seashells of varying sizes, colors, and shapes glisten behind the organza fabric.
Collecting seashells always reminds me of Dad.
Beach trips were his favorite and he took us often when we were children.
He’d carry Lettie on his back while Diego and I walked up and down the shoreline, digging up whatever we could find.
Rocks, sand dollars, shells, and sometimes, if we were really lucky, a jellyfish we’d use to torment Lettie until our parents threatened to drown us both if we didn’t stop.
“Do you like it?” Her voice trembles with unsteadiness. “I collected them on our honeymoon. Whenever we visited a beach, I always made sure to take a few with me.”
I caress her cheek and she leans into the touch, covering her hand with mine. “How could I not? I love it.”
“I was saving it for a special occasion.”
“And what occasion would that be, mi amor?”
Her smile widens and she turns away to face the room. “I thought we could use it to decorate the nursery?”
I almost laugh. “The nursery?”
She nods.
“These wouldn’t last five minutes in Lela’s nursery. She’d probably try to eat them and once she figures out she can’t—”
“Not Lela’s nursery. Our nursery.”
“But we don’t have…”
Dahlia smiles to herself again. Gets to her feet.
“I think…a crib? Over here?” She motions to the center of the room. “Or do you think by the window?”
Suddenly, I can’t speak.
She sighs. “The baby could catch a cold so close to the window. How about the crib here, the changing station over there, and maybe a rocking chair? I’ve always wanted a rocking chair.”
I’m propelled to my feet by a force I can’t control. It sends me flying across the room where I catch her by the shoulders and spin her around. She tilts her head at me as I look her up and down searching for signs of change but find none.
“But…you don’t look different.”
“How should I look?”
Dahlia looks up at me with eyes I’ve never seen before.
A shade of amber I never knew existed. Within her gaze there’s tenderness and apprehension but they pale in comparison to the glimmer of hope that washes all the fear away.
Being looked at her this way—with so much trust and longing—steals the power of speech from me.
There’s so much…muchness inside of me. Is there a word for this feeling? Where every emotion you’ve ever experienced in thirty-four years of life soars through you and fills your chest until you think you’ll split open from the effort to contain it all?
I thought I knew what love was. It’s supposed to be the feeling you get when someone walks into a room and their presence makes it easier to breathe.
It’s supposed to be the sound of their laughter on a good day and the desire to be with them even on a bad one.
Those things can be articulated—they’re tangible.
Butterflies in the stomach, warmth in the chest, tingles all over the skin.
But this…this is something else entirely.
Love takes on a form I’ve never known before.
Colors I didn’t know existed, the sound of all the blood in my body rushing in my ears, the way my heart pounds, skips a beat, and creates a new rhythm all on its own.
And there’s no release for it, no way to excommunicate the overwhelming muchness that now consumes me. Do I cry? Laugh? Scream?
Dahlia lifts a hand to my cheek. “Please say something.”
Even her voice sounds different. Her cheeks are rosier, her smile lovelier, everything about her more perfect than it was a moment ago, as if she was not already the most wonderful thing I’d ever seen. I wonder if our child will have those eyes.
Our child…what a strange thought. So strange it makes me laugh and the sound must ease her anxieties because her shoulders slump as she leans into me.
“I…I’m…you…how?” I hold her closer, my grip on her tightening. “When?”
Her head shakes frantically. “I only found out a week ago and it was by accident. I didn’t…I think when I switched birth controls I must’ve missed a day or two and hadn’t realized because—”
“Are you all right? Have you been to a doctor?” the questions pour out of me before I can stop myself. “How do you feel? Are you sick right now?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insists, almost out of breath. “But…are you upset?”
“Upset?”
“Yes, upset!” she blurts. Her eyes widen. “I know it wasn’t planned and I was so afraid to tell you.”
“Oh Dahlia…”
“And then—” I kiss her frantically and her words come out muffled.
“I was wondering—” kiss. “If maybe you weren’t ready!
” kiss. “And I felt so terrible but I knew I had to tell you.” kiss.
“Because eventually I’m going to start to show—” kiss.
“—I’ll have to see a doctor and we’ll have to tell people! ” kiss. “Alex!”
“Do you know what it is yet?” I ask then say before she can answer, “Maybe it’s a girl. It has to be.”
She lifts her hands to my cheeks and drags her thumbs under my eyes. They come back wet. “Are you crying?”
“I don’t know.” I answer honestly. “I feel drunk. Do you think it can hear us yet? Does it have ears?”
“Well—”
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” I kiss her again. So hard I think our lips are bruised. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” A thought suddenly occurs to me and I pull away abruptly. “We’re not putting a crib near a window. What if the baby falls out?”
Laughter explodes from her lips.
“Also, I don’t want a tacky beige nursery.
Absolutely not. It’s ugly and depressing, I want color.
Bright and bold and lots of plants and toys because they’re stimulating for the mind.
A baby should be happy. And we need shelves.
For toys. And one of those really big, um, Lela had one, it’s—” I struggle for the word.
“No sé cómo se llama pero es grande y lo pones en el suelo—”
“A play pin?”
“Sí eso,” I gesture vaguely. “And we have to buy clothes, we don’t have any clothes. Or diapers or formula—”
“We have nine months for that.”
“Nine months is not enough.”
She laughs again.
“And we have to tell people. Everyone.”
“Everyone?” She presses her lips together before saying, voice tight with tears, “You’re happy then? I wasn’t sure…”
“I think I could live a hundred lifetimes and nothing I experienced in any one of them could ever come close to the joy I feel right now.”
I pull her into my arms, lift her off her feet, and kiss her until we’re both dizzy and laughing and love is no longer a color or a sound or a feeling. It’s a moment in time.