15. Photograph
Dante
3 years later
M y mind reels at the realization that this is happening. For real…
Sully, his wife, and kids just left after our Sunday brunch. Zayn is storing the leftovers in the fridge, and I’m loading the countless pots and pans in the dishwasher, doing my best to ignore my racing pulse. Conflicting emotions overwhelm me, although it’s been over two hours since they broke the news.
My shoulders slump because I feel old for the first time in my life. My shoulders stiffen because I feel lost for no reason. My shoulders straighten—at last! —at this unexpected turn of events.
Was it unexpected, though?
In spite of many lingering doubts, frequent detours, and recurring fears, Zayn and I have done a damn good job raising a fine young man, who is now his own person. He grew up so fast. He’s been sparse during his years at Berkeley. I can’t believe that he’s approximately the same age I was when Zayn wooed me. He’s much more mature than I’ll ever be, eager to celebrate his love for a young woman so dear to his heart. So much for refusing to settle down!
Like father, like son!
Our family has never been a stickler for dates and celebrations, but he chose today, Bastille Day, to announce the first step towards a much bigger step; and to think that Zayn and I never tied the knot. It was sweet of them to wait until after Zayn’s fiftieth birthday party had concluded to avoid stealing the show.
“Never mind…” Susie looks up and pauses when she notices that Zayn and I have returned from the kitchen, her features tense. Like Sully said earlier, the opinionated young woman isn’t a kid anymore.
We stop dead in our tracks, annoyed that we evidently barged in on a private exchange. Zayn’s hand slides into mine, and warmth spreads throughout my body. Yes, after all of these years and all we’ve been through, this amazing man still has the same effect on me. My cheeks heat when I glimpse at him, debating our next move.
From the new black leather sofa, where they’re sipping on their lattes, they say, “It’s okay,” in unison. They’re perfect together. Then, he adds, “You didn’t intrude, Dads.”
“You sure?”
Jeremy nods at Zayn’s question. His copper curls, which have made a comeback with a vengeance, bounce around his freckled face. My man brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles, then drops it. “ Oui , Papa .” I love when our son addresses his French dad in his mother tongue. “ Viens, assieds-toi avec nous .” My French sucks, but I smile when he switches back to English, and the next course of action elucidates the meaning of the first part.
From our seats beside the couch, I catch a glimpse of Dixie sprawled on her back sunbathing through the massive sliding glass door. Zayn and I sit side by side: me on the matching loveseat and him on the ottoman, where Jeremy disclosed his colorful college experience to his best friends three years ago… shortly before he and Susie rebuilt a genuine friendship. Despite the distance, they both fathomed there was more to it, yet neither was ready to commit. They fought. He abandoned his playboy tendencies. They resisted. She broke up with her overbearing boyfriend. They surrendered… After a few months of old-fashioned courtship, they found common ground. Jeremy clearly didn’t earn his patience from me.
With his left hand on his fiancée’s knee, Jeremy’s tall body swivels to catch Susie's gaze. “What were you about to say, trésor ?” Her posture instantly relaxes at the French term of endearment he recently started using; that should have been my first clue that something was up.
She finishes her drink. “Guess our upcoming engagement party hasn’t lessened my feelings at being back in your childhood home, huh?” For the time being, both are living off-campus; she’s studying data science, while he just graduated with his Master’s in Engineering. Jeremy’s brow spikes up. Shooting her a quizzical look, he squeezes her knee before releasing it. “It’s just… I don’t know… Seeing your family photos displayed everywhere…” Her pretty light brown eyes water, and she wipes away the tears with the back of her hand that’s sporting the sparkling evidence of my son’s love for her. “Damn, I’ve missed out on so much, Jay.”
I can totally relate. My entire body prickles with the pressing need to reveal bits and pieces of the past. Things that we briefly broached with Jeremy—and that her admission caused to resurface.
Clearing my throat, I jump in and share with a hammering heart, “When Zayn and I first met in Seaside as teenagers, we became fast friends and spent lots of time gaming…” My sideway glance at Zayn reassures me that he doesn’t mind my unexpected confession. “I even played one of my very first songs for him!” Jeremy’s full mouth stretches into a wide smile at that, and so does Susie’s. They’ve seen my first guitar hanging on the wall of my childhood room at my mom’s. “So, yeah, close friends. Well… until this scrawny sixteen-year-old guy?—”
Zayn’s fist bumps my bicep. “Scrawny? Jeez, thanks!”
“What? It’s the truth! Definitely not scrawny anymore… But you were my favorite shy nerdy friend… Actually, not that shy since you kissed me out of the blue.”
“And you kissed me back.” my man grumbles, squirming in his seat, obviously wondering where I’m heading with this. “Before you ghosted me…” The tinge of hurt in his hoarse voice guts me; after almost thirty-five years, he still hasn’t fully forgiven me.
“Haven’t I made up for it?” I wiggle my eyebrows lightheartedly, rather than suggestively, considering the audience. “In my defense, my eighteen-year-old self had yet to figure out I wasn’t quite straight.” I gently slap my boyfriend’s forearm and clear my throat. “You got me sidetracked, baby. I swear there is a point to this!” Zayn shoots me a soft smile. My attention returns to Susie, and I recall, mostly for her benefit, “So I was straight, anti-commitment, living my best life… and he shows up again. Six years later! He came back for a friend’s wedding. That’s when I knew I was screwed.” The second the words leave my mouth, I blush, noticing the unintended pun and curse. Thank God, neither man calls me out on it or teases me for the creative tactics I’ve employed to avoid cursing in front of my son over the years. One led to our dog’s name. I quickly carry on, “I eventually stopped lying to myself… So, I groveled.”
This time, Zayn quips, “Riiight…” He snickers. I frown. We smile. “Somehow that memory eludes me…” Snarling, I nonetheless roll my eyes at his blatant deception.
Maybe I didn’t grovel enough, but I still got the guy!
With his best impersonation of Miranda Priestly, his hand gestures my way. “That is all.”
I don’t miss the young couple’s amused faces at our banter. At least, that took the edge off of Susie’s low spirits.
“As I was saying, I lost out on six years of Zayn’s life because of my own sheer stupidity…” I shake my head, then look at him. “Later, my demanding career prevented us from visiting his sister in Italy or exploring France.” No need to mention his parents. “Whenever I was away, I felt exactly like Susie… Missing out on so much… because of my job. I mean, spending time at the studio was awesome, and so was touring, but…”
“Come on, Father… It’s your job and also your passion. You love everything about music… and you’re a rock star. Remember how Tricia almost fainted when she recognized you?” He recounts his first encounter with Emily in kindergarten before his eyes bore into mine again. “But to me, you’ve always been a star, just like Papa , because you’re my dads, my family. And thanks to you two, I had the luxury of graduating without debt.” We all chuckle at that. “If you’d stayed in Seaside rather than follow Papa to Palo Alto, I might’ve never found my one true love.”
Hands on either side of her face, my son—our son—unabashedly French kisses the hell out of his significant other, not giving her time to refuse. She doesn’t fight it, but breaks it too soon for his taste if his grunt is any indication.
Nonchalantly, he ruffles her short black hair with dark blue streaks, messing her previously groomed pixie, and she swoons. “I’m serious, Dads.” He glances at us alternatively. “I owe you two so much. If you hadn’t raised me as your own, I wouldn’t be where I am today… sitting next to this wonderful woman who did me the honor of agreeing to be my wife.” I guess the engagement announcement made them more emotional than they admit. He stares at me. “Listen, I wouldn’t change a single thing about my life. Yes, you weren’t around every day, but you were never out of reach.” Then, he tilts his head to Zayn. “Right, Papa ?”
“And we could see him on the front page of tabloids at every newsstand. They couldn’t help selling your dad’s fans a faux romance with Brea Sandora!”
Damn, I wish he had forgotten about that!
As if I’d ever cheat on him, with my duet partner at that. Thankfully, she found Gael, and I eventually found the courage to publicly come out. “Pictures are important for everyone: fans, photographers, and families.”
“See!” Zayn interferes, his chest heaving with pride. “I knew you’d thank me later for insisting we print the pics instead of just storing them in the cloud.”
“Indeed… Exactly like Susie said… filling in the gaps.”
She nods and mouths a thank you my way. “I hope it won’t sound creepy, but to me, loving someone is wanting to get as close to them as you can, learning their idiosyncrasies and swooning at them, because you get that person like nobody else does.” Her voice trembles, yet is laced with resolve. “Discovering what makes them tick, accepting their quirks, and being satisfied by the mere knowledge that they’re your person… To me, that’s what love is. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Jay.” A silent tear runs down her makeup-free cheek, and a chortle escapes her lips.
“Amen to that!” Jeremy leans her way and engulfs her in a hug, one of his hands stroking the back of her hair. Her breathing settles.
Once he releases her from his loving embrace, her face tells me that she’s about to apologize, which is completely unnecessary, so Zayn insists, “It was vital for me to keep memories of my loved ones as well as snapshots of what Dante might have missed over the years.” I purse my lips, wondering why he’s getting all worked up over nothing, but apparently, we all are, and he blurts out, “Sue me!”
At once, his hands press down on the ottoman to stand, but I don’t give him the opportunity. In a flash, Zayn stands before me. My gaze cages his, making him blush at its intensity. Enthralled, I let his lean body stand between my legs. My body goes lax when his thumb and index finger capture my chin.
I murmur between clenched teeth, “Calm your tits, will you?” I tip my face towards his.
His lips welcome mine for a chaste kiss, which isn’t the norm for us. We wouldn’t want to make a big production in front of the youngsters. We aren’t the young and foolish couple we once were , at least not in public. We’re the parents, so we let our son be the impulsive one and play the role of the responsible adults.
I wink at my man. “Nobody’s blaming anyone. Quite the opposite.”
Startling us all, Zayn takes a step back and clasps his hands together. “Tell you what,” he starts, his tone barely containing his excitement, which makes me question his upcoming suggestion. “Susie, you mentioned the parts of Jeremy’s life that you weren’t part of. I have an idea to make up for lost time…” Zayn’s mischievous grin widens. “Dante, why don’t you make some iced tea while we go hunt through the attic.”
I pour the cold beverage into glasses and set the glasses on coasters on the coffee table. Watching my family approach from afar, I smile at my good fortune. Engrossed in conversation, each of them carries a few dusty shoeboxes.
“Nooow…” Zayn stretches the word for effect. “Who’s happy that I’m a neat freak and meticulously sorted the pictures by year and theme?”
“You’re the best, Papa .” Jeremy’s right, yet my heart tightens with a pang of envy. I was never the best dad. I remind myself that it isn’t a competition. We each gifted our son with parts of ourselves, and like he said, it made him the man he is today.
“Let’s take a trip down Memory Lane,” I suggest as we resume our previous positions and hand Susie the oldest box. She hesitantly takes the top off. I catch my breath, then encourage her,
“Dig in!”
*** THE END ***