34. Jamie #3
Me with missing front teeth.
My first pair of skates.
Graduation.
The draft.
Stanley Cup celebrations.
But mixed among them are children I don't recognize.
Families.
Birthday parties.
Holiday dinners.
Foundation events.
Annette walks closer.
"There are as many pictures of other people as there are of you."
Dad smiles.
"They're all family."
She turns toward him. "They are."
He nods. "Some by birth."
He gestures toward another photo of a teenager in graduation robes. "Some by circumstance."
I know exactly who that is. Marcus.
One of the Foundation kids.
First in his family to attend college.
Mom calls from the kitchen. "Jamie! Stop letting that roast get cold."
"I just got here."
"You've been here almost three minutes."
Annette laughs. "I think I'm beginning to understand your family."
"You'll catch on quickly."
Dinner is noisy. Everyone talks over everyone else. Dad asks Annette about school.
Mom interrupts to ask whether she's eating enough. Dad reminds Mom to let Annette answer. Mom ignores him completely.
"I'm eating fine."
Jamie chuckles. "Mom..."
"What?"
"You've known her twelve minutes."
"I know."
Mom smiles warmly at Annette.
"I'm making up for lost time."
The table erupts in laughter.
A basket of warm rolls lands beside Annette.
"Take two."
"I really only need one."
"Nonsense."
Annette reaches for one. The second somehow appears on her plate anyway.
While everyone is distracted...I quietly steal it.
Mom doesn't even look up.
"James Patrick Monroe Walker."
I freeze.
"What?"
"Put it back."
"How did you even know?"
"I've been your mother for thirty years."
Dad sips his iced tea. "He's actually getting slower."
"I am sitting right here."
"Yes."
Dad smiles. "We're aware."
Annette is laughing so hard she has tears in her eyes.
Seeing her like this, I don't think I've ever loved anyone more.
Dessert is blueberry pie and Mom insists everyone take enormous slices.
"I couldn't possibly finish all of this."
"You don't have to."
Mom smiles.
"But you'll try."
Halfway through dessert, Dad sets down his fork.
"Annette." She looks up. "May I ask you something?"
"Of course."
Mom immediately narrows her eyes.
"Richard..."
"What?"
"Behave."
"I am behaving."
He looks back at Annette. "What made you fall in love with my son?"
Silence.
My fork stops halfway to my mouth. "Dad..."
"What? I'm curious."
Mom pats my arm. "I am too."
Traitors.
Annette looks at me. Really looks at me. Then smiles.
"It wasn't one thing."
Dad waits.
"It was hundreds of little things."
She reaches over and slips her hand into mine.
“First, it was the way he looks at me, truly looks at me. But also…
The way he notices when someone is struggling before anyone else does.
The way he never walks past a person who needs help.
The way he carries everyone else's burdens without ever asking for anything in return."
She smiles softly.
"I realized one day..."
"...that he makes people feel safe."
The room is completely quiet.
She squeezes my hand. "And once I understood that..."
She laughs a little. "I don't think I ever stood a chance."
Mom discreetly dabs at the corner of one eye with her napkin.
Dad nods once. "So did I."
I look at him. "What?"
He smiles. "I fell in love with your mother for exactly the same reason."
Mom reaches across the table and covers his hand with hers.
For a moment, forty years disappear from their faces. They're simply a man and a woman still in love.
Annette notices it too, I can tell. Because she smiles the same quiet smile I've come to recognize.
The one that says, that's what I want.
And suddenly...
I know something with absolute certainty. She isn't just imagining a future with me anymore.
She's imagining this. Sunday dinners. Bad jokes. Too many dinner rolls. Parents who hug too long.
And home where love isn't spoken once, it's lived every single day.
As Mom begins clearing plates, she waves Annette back into her chair.
"Absolutely not."
"I can help."
"No."
"But.”
"You're our guest."
I grin. "Don't argue."
"You don't argue with your mother?"
I laugh. "I enjoy living."
Dad stands, collecting dishes. "I've tried arguing."
"And?"
He smiles. "I've been happily losing for forty years."
Mom points toward the living room. "You two go. We'll clean."
Annette hesitates. "You've already done enough."
Mom walks over and cups her cheek.
"My dear..." Her smile is impossibly gentle. "You coming tonight was the best part of my day."
Annette's eyes glisten. Before she can answer, Mom pulls her into another hug.
This one is quieter. Longer. The kind only mothers know how to give.
As we step out onto the porch a few minutes later, Mom follows us to the door.
She hugs me. Then Annette.
She kisses my cheek.
Then smiles at both of us.
"Drive carefully."
We both nod. She starts to close the door, then opens it one more time.
"Oh..."
We turn back. Her smile is warm enough to light the entire porch.
"We'll see you soon."
Not come back.
Not I hope so.
Just...We'll see you soon.
As though there had never been any doubt.
As though Annette has belonged here all along.