Chapter 52
The Next Year
I get the phone call on my birthday.
Betty squawks and I hear Ellis soothing her when I grab my phone off the kitchen counter. It’s messy—bits of parsley and splashes of olive oil staining it. Signs of a kitchen well loved and used. The sight of it makes me smile before I notice who’s calling.
I answer. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Cassia Park?”
“Yes, it is.”
Something in my voice must alert Ellis, because he walks into the kitchen. My eyes take in his soft yellow T-shirt and navy shorts. His messy hair, his long-legged, rangy grace as he steps in next to me.
Our eyes meet and his go wide.
“Ms. Park, I’m calling from the Eastside Fertility Clinic.”
“Hi.” My voice sounds comically breathy and Ellis laughs. I elbow him.
“We received your message and are happy to go ahead and set up your first egg-implantation appointment.”
I do just that and then I circle the date on my wall calendar (something Ellis makes fun of me for, endlessly). We step back to look at the visual symbol of what’s about to be a huge journey.
“Did you just start sweating?” I ask.
“What! No!” He touches his forehead frantically.
I start cackling and he tackles me. Then he lets go immediately. “Oh, god, I should be more careful.”
“Okay, nothing has been implanted yet. Also, you better not be this precious with me when and if I do get pregnant.”
He makes a face like, Okay. And I know that he will take care of me like the most fragile of Fabergé eggs. Pregnancy and beyond.
Betty flies to his shoulder, and Ellis starts rooting through the refrigerator with her while I go back to chopping vegetables for the barbecue. By the time the marinated lamb chops and veggies are on the grill, the doorbell rings with the first guests.
It’s my family, of course. Early because they’re already hungry.
“Get that bird away from me,” Sunny says as she hands me a bottle of Scotch. Stu valiantly steps between her and Betty. I give them both hugs.
“Happy birthday, darling,” Sunny says, kissing my cheek.
Halmoni and Halabuji are right behind, with Emoni, holding giant Tupperware containers. “I told you guys not to bring anything!” I exclaim.
“Give me a break,” Halabuji says. “Now, where’s that leaky faucet you told me about?”
Before I can answer, Halmoni swats him. “Dinner first. Enough with the fixing everything all the time!”
Since the Big Mom Reveal, my grandparents have been visiting more often.
They stay for meals, spend time with me in my garden.
Watch movies in my living room. I think it’s their way of moving through their grief.
They’re finally able to face it head-on and be in Mom’s old home. It’s been healing. For all of us.
Everyone’s on the deck and Stu is serving up drinks when Mar and her family arrive.
It’s noisy but Betty is in heaven, preening under the kids’ attention.
Pickle runs around all of us, his chaotic puppy energy taking it to the next level.
The kids are so excited to show me their gifts—little cacti in hand-painted pots.
Mica’s has Spider-Man on it and Ozzie’s has, inexplicably, a meticulous drawing of a skeleton. I love them.
Mar stops in front of my calendar and points at the only date that is circled. “Explain.”
I raise my eyebrows and take a sip of my gin and tonic, maybe my last one for a while. She raises her eyebrows. “It begins?”
“It begins.”
She bursts into tears.
My mouth drops open. “Mar!”
“Oh my god, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she says, wiping her face with her kaftan sleeve.
“Are you fucking pregnant?” I ask, only half joking.
“NO!” She yells so loudly that everyone outside stops talking.
I wave them off. “Wow, really looking forward to motherhood now.”
She laughs and then brings me in for a fierce hug. “You’re going to love it. Every damn moment. I’ll make sure of it.”
I shake my head. “I doubt it, but I love the optimism. And I love you.”
“And I, you.”
The food is being served when the youth arrive in a pack of checkered patterns and natural wine: Shreya, Lila, and Matteo.
“Your house is, like, so real,” Lila says.
“Right?” Matteo says, pushing up his sunglasses to get a better look. “It’s, like, Mad Men meets cottagecore.”
Shreya stops at a photo hanging near the entrance. “Oh, wow, is that your mom?”
I look at it with her. It’s my mom in college—she’s asleep in a pile of jackets next to an easel with a half-finished painting.
She’s curled up, her face at peace in the studio.
This single shot captures that reckless and easy way it was to be young and willing to put your body through hell for your passions.
My dad sent me the photo for my birthday present.
“Yeah, isn’t it cool?” I say with a smile.
Shreya knows about my mom’s early death, and she looks at me with big eyes before squeezing my arm.
“It’s really cool.” Matthew had called me that morning and we had a nice chat about his plans for the summer.
It might even involve a trip to L.A. We’ve been talking more and more and I think maybe we’re ready for him to visit.
Maybe. Ellis reminds me I don’t have to make that decision until I feel like it.
Like this birthday. I decided out of the blue to skip my yearly road trip. Maybe I’ll start new traditions.
“Make yourself at home and eat up,” I say, pushing Shreya onto the deck.
Soon after, Josh and Brian and their families show up and the house officially becomes way too small for the amount of people in it.
We spill out onto the deck, where tiki torches and string lights keep it lit and cozy as the sky turns pink, and everyone is seated on various chairs and stools.
Music pipes in from my speakers in the living room and I take a moment to take it all in.
I will not think about the future or the past. This is the moment.
And I feel her here—my mother. She’s in this house with all these people I love, but most importantly, she’s with me. Always. Because she loved me in this life. And that kind of love, it transcends time and space. It finds you life after life.
Ellis meets my eyes and his gaze scorches me. It doesn’t get old, this feeling. I lift up my glass and he lifts up Ozzie, who laughs hysterically and throws her arms around his neck.
He’s going to be a great father. I am as sure of this as I am that he loves me and I love him.
What a beautiful, scary, exhilarating thing: knowing this one thing in an unknowable future. A future spread before me to make my own.