by Emma Scott
“God, Beverly, I loved Jonah with all I had. It was real. Every moment was real.”
“But now you feel the same for Theo?” She shook her head. “I don’t see how that’s possible. I feel dirty for asking this, but I need to know, Kacey. If Jonah were to walk through that door right now, what would you do?”
“I can’t answer that, Beverly,” I said softly. “Because Jonah can’t walk through that door.”
Beverly wilted in her chair, staring at me with wide, frightened eyes. “I know. I know that but…”
“But you don’t feel it yet,” I said softly. “I know. I was the same. For months after Jonah died, I cried for him to come back. I pleaded, and screamed, and prayed, and hoped, and nearly drank myself to death, begging for him to come back. I wanted so badly to believe, on some level, it was possible because the alternative was too horrible to contemplate. I jumped at knocks on my door, I flinched when my phone rang. I searched faces in the crowd when I walked, and tricked myself into thinking, sometimes, Jonah was standing right beside me. All I had to do was turn my head and look.”
Beverly nodded “I do that too. Every day. But he’s never there.”
“No,” I said. “He’s not. The doors never opened, the phone never rang with him on the other end. Eventually, I stopped expecting it. It wasn’t a switch that flipped. It was a slow, agonizing journey to the moment I realized he was never coming back. Accepted it. And once I accepted he was gone, I was free. Not free of the love we had. I’ll carry that with me forever. I’ll love him forever. But free to start again. A new chapter.”
“With Theo,” she said. “How…?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Slowly. Over fifteen hundred miles and a thousand phone calls. Neither expected it. Neither pursued it. I had so many dark days when I thought I’d never love again. But Jonah told me I would. And I have. I just never thought it would be Teddy.” I smiled. “Only now, I think it couldn’t have been anyone but him.”
I pushed off the couch, and knelt in front of her, took her shaking hands in mine.
“I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have known the love of two extraordinary men. And I hope Theo’s happiness can bring you the same joy as Jonah’s did. He’s your son too. And I love him. It’s different, but then again, I’m different for knowing Jonah. He showed me what it meant to love someone with your entire being.”
Beverly raised her head. “And you love Theo.”
“I do,” I said. “I’m completely and utterly in love with Theo. He loves me. And…” I swallowed hard. “We’re going to have a baby.”
She sat back in the chair, staring.
“We didn’t plan for that either, but it happened. We’re both so happy about it and I hope…” Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over. “I hope you can be too.”
Beverly stared a moment more then clapped her hands to her chest, and began to laugh. Big shaking laughs with tears streaming down her cheeks. She wagged her finger at me, then leaned forward and cupped my face in her hand.
“Oh, sweetheart. Sweet girl, yes, of course I’m happy. It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard.”
She gathered me to her and held me tight, crying softly. Stroking my hair in a motherly caress I hadn’t felt in years.
A small hope caught flame and flickered in my heart.
My mom might think so too.
Theo
Dena texted me: I haven’t had a pastrami on rye from Sully’s in ages. Meet me there at noon?
I nudged Kacey who was still bundled up in my bed, sleeping.
“Dena wants to meet a Sully’s for lunch.”
“Sully’s?”
“It’s a pool hall we used to hang out at in college. They have killer sandwiches. Their pastrami on rye—”
“Stop. I can’t even,” Kacey said. “I’m so tired for no reason and if you say ‘pastrami’ one more time I’m going to hurl. But you go. Enjoy.”
I noticed a little smile over lips as I bent to kiss her goodbye.
It was a sleepy Sunday afternoon and the pool hall was almost empty. A jukebox played Johnny Cash while half a dozen patrons nursed beers at the bar or shot pool. I found an empty table and took a few shots while waiting for Dena.
I lined up a shot, hunched over, moving the stick between my fingers when someone took hold of it behind me.
“The hell…?”
I turned around.
“I got a text from Dena,” Oscar said, eyeing me darkly. “Said she was craving a pastrami sandwich?”
“I got the same text,” I said. “Your wife’s a mastermind.”
Oscar made a sound that might’ve been a laugh. “You rack, I’ll break?”
“Sure.”
We played a game of eight-ball, not saying a word but to call our shots, settling in to being around each other again after weeks of silence.
“Haven’t been here in awhile,” Oscar said toward the end of the game. He twisted a blue cube of chalk over the tip of his cue stick. “Since UNLV, right? Before Jonah went to Carnegie.”
“Sounds right,” I said. “Beer?”
“Why not?”
I signaled the bartender for two while Oscar bent over the table, lined up his shot, his cue sliding back and forth in the cleft of his thumb. He lanced the stick forward and sunk the yellow two with a powerful crack.
“Nice shot,” I said.
“You remember that one night?” Oscar said, lining up his next shot. “Jonah hit the cue ball so hard on his eight ball shot, it jumped to the next table and sank their eight?” He chuckled. “That was fucking epic.”
“Then he said it counted, because he called it,” I said, laughing.
“Yeah, he did.” Oscar eyed his next shot, then his eyes flickered to me. He backed off the table with a sigh. “I’m sorry, man. All that shit I said to you. It was uncalled for.”
I felt a knot of tension ease in my gut. “It’s cool. I know why you said it.”
“For Jonah,” he said. “I didn’t know Kacey all that well, except to see her with him. In my mind…she was it. She was there for him. I know it’s unfair to her—and you—but he was so fucking happy, you know.” Oscar looked at me. “But now you’re so fucking happy.” He shot me his signature smile. “It’s almost embarrassing.”
“That so?”
“I’d be an asshole to stay pissed, right?”
“The biggest.”
Oscar snorted a laugh and came around the table. We half-hugged, half-clapped each other on the back.
“I love you, man,” Oscar said.
“You too,” I said, taking a seat at one of the small round tables against the wall.
He went back the table, eyed the eight ball near the right corner pocket. The white cue was in the middle of the table, a clear, easy shot. “I’m going to sink this little bastard for the win.”
“So, we’re good, man?” I asked.
Oscar leaned over the table, the cue resting on the bridge of his hand. “Yeah, we’re good.”
He started to take his shot.
“You sure about that?” I said loudly.
He shot me a look. “I said I was. You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you.”
“Then shut up and let me take this shot.”
He drew back the cue stick and just as he let it fly, I said, “Kacey’s pregnant.”
The stick scraped along the felt and knocked the cue ball sideways, straight into the side pocket.
“Scratch,” I said, and sipped my beer to hide my smile. “That’s game.”
Oscar’s eyes widened in shock, then, to my utter amazement, they began to shine with tears.
“Whoa, hey, don’t get all soft on me,” I said, tossing a cocktail napkin at him.
“You bastard,” he said, wiping his eyes, and then laughing. “You want to know if I’m sure? Now I know I’m sure. I’m so fucking happy for you, I’m crying.”
I had to blink my damn eyes to keep from doing the same. “Than
ks, man.”
He sank into the chair across from me at the table. “How far along is she?”
“Not very. Six weeks, maybe. She has an appointment with a doc in a few days.”
Oscar shook his head, whistled low through his teeth. “Do your parents know?”
“Mom’s happy. She wasn’t thrilled about Kacey and I either, but I think this news helped her accept we’re for real.”
“What about your dad?”
I shrugged. “Different spin on his usual bullshit. I bought a new business in a shit market and now I’ve got a kid on the way to support. A responsibility my poor career choices are going to fuck up and I won’t be able to support my family.” I shook my head. “Holy shit, my family.”
Oscar laughed. “Shit just got real.”
“It keeps getting realer by the minute.”
“You can’t worry what your dad thinks. He might come around, he might not. He might need to hold his grandkid in his arms for a kick in the ass.”
“Maybe.”
“Oh my Christ, the look on your face,” Oscar said, shaking his head. “Pitiful. Damn, man, I’ve never seen you like this. You are so incredibly, amazingly, one hundred percent whipped.”
“I saw how whipped you are over Dena and I got jealous.”
Oscar tossed back his head, laughing. He clinked his beer bottle to mine. “Welcome to the club.”
I came back to my place thinking that the smile on my face must be permanent. I turned the key in the lock, and the smile widened knowing that Kacey was inside.
She sat on the couch, her back to me, though I saw her cell phone sitting limp in her hand.
“Hey, babe,” I said, moving to sit beside her. “You okay?”
“Not really,” she said, her voice thick with tears.
“Hey.” Gently, I turned her to face me, brushed the hair from her eyes. “What is it?”
“I want to see my parents.”
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“I wasn’t going to talk to them ever again. I was done. But now that we’re going to have a baby, I feel like it’s one more chance to try. To have me in their life. And you. And their grandchild.”
She leaned into me and I wrapped my arm around her. “You sure?” I asked.
“No. Part of me thinks it’s the worst idea in the world. But the other half can’t imagine not telling them. Going years and years with them never knowing they’re grandparents?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t seem right.”
They probably wouldn’t give a shit about that either.
She sniffed and sat up, her luminous eyes full of hope and fear in equal parts. “Your mom was so wonderful about it. She treated me like I was her own daughter, and I want that from my own mom and dad. I have to do this. The final time. If they still don’t want me with a grandchild on the way, then that’s it.” She exhaled heavily, wilting. “Am I insane risking this again?”
I didn’t know how to answer. She wasn’t insane, but the last thing I wanted was for her to be hurt. I wanted to protect her from another rejection by her asshole of a father.
But she’s trying, I thought, holding her tight. She’s stepping up one more time, laying her chips on the table. Just like she did with me after Jonah.
I wiped her tears with the back of my fingers. “It’s fucking brave. If they still turn their backs then it’s their loss and fuck them forever.”
Kacey sniffled and laughed a little. “Promise you won’t punch my dad out if he turns out to be a dick.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I love you, Teddy,” she murmured against my chest. “I’ll be proud to introduce you to them. I love this baby and this life we’re making. I want my parents to be a part of it.”
“Me too, Kace,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “More than anything, I want that for you.”
Theo
We flew to San Diego the following afternoon, rented a car and drove out to Mission Hills where the Dawsons lived.
“That one,” she said, releasing the death grip on my hand to point to a blue two-story with white trim. A green Subaru was parked in the drive.
“Déjà vu,” Kacey murmured. “This is what Jonah and I did when we came here. We staked out the place from our rental car, watched them leave the house to go out.”
“You didn’t stop them?”
She shook her head, her eyes on the house. “They looked too happy. I didn’t want to ruin it. We stayed in the car and they drove away.”
“They never met him,” I said.
She shook her head, smiling sadly. “I regretted that,” she said. “Now I think it makes sense. I think maybe Jonah and I didn’t get of the car that day because he and I…we had a beautiful little pocket of time, a handful of months. And that’s all. But you, Teddy. You’re the man I’m going to introduce to my parents. You’re my forever. That’s why we’re going to get out of the car today.”
I held her gaze a moment, then surged across the seat to hold her face and kiss her.
“I love how brave you are,” I whispered against her lips.
“Brave? Look at this.” She held up her shaking hands.
“Whenever you’re ready. You tell me when.”
I felt her body expand and contract in a deep sigh. “It’s now or never.”
We exited the car, but she got no further than shutting her door.
“God,” she whispered. “What if they don’t accept me?”
My heart cracked a little at that. “Then it’s their loss, baby. Okay?”
She nodded and mustered a smile. We walked to the front door, Kacey holding tight to my hand. She reached out for the doorbell, squinched her eyes shut, and pushed. From inside, the bell rang, and she inched closer to me.
Footsteps, a lock turning, and then a woman in her mid-sixties opened the door. Brown hair, streaked with gray, touched her shoulders and cut across her forehead. Her lips held a polite answering-the-front-door smile for the space of one heartbeat before recognition dawned in her gray eyes.
And her smile fell off like a mask, leaving naked shock and even a twinge of fear. Not joy. Not surprise. Not love.
Damn you, I thought, my heart cracking again. Kacey’s hand went slack in mine and I watched my brave girl force a smile through the pain.
“Hi, Mom.”
Kacey
I counted the seconds between my “Hi, Mom,” and my mother’s reply. I got to eight before she blinked as if coming out of a trance. Her hand clutched the buttons on her cardigan. I wanted both of her hands to reach for me and hold me like she did when I was a kid and my dad wasn’t around to see. I wanted to fly at her and hug her and breathe her in.
“Cassie,” she whispered. For a split second, her eyes filled and a shocked smile tugged at her lips. My hopes soared, and then she gave herself a little shake, composing herself. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I…?” I repeated dumbly, the hope draining out of me.
I’m your daughter. That’s what I’m doing here.
I felt Theo’s hand give mine a squeeze, and I felt more solid. More present.
Stay here.
“It’s been a long time, Mom. I’m here to visit you and Dad. This is my boyfriend, Theo. Theo, this is Linda. My mom.”
Mom’s eyes darted to Theo beside me in his usual dark T-shirt and jeans. She took in his muscles, his tattoos, the unshaven stubble of his beard, and I saw her hand clench tighter on her sweater.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dawson,” Theo said, his tone flat and dry as the desert. He didn’t extend his hand to shake, maybe guessing—correctly—my mother wouldn’t take it.
“Can we come in?” I asked, hating that I had to ask.
Mom glanced over her shoulder and back. “Now? I don’t know…”
I clenched my teeth together so hard I thought they’d shatter, inhaled through my nose to calm myself, to suck courage and steadiness out of the salty air.
“Mom,” I said, “I haven’t seen you
or Daddy in almost seven years. You stopped returning my calls almost a year ago. I need to see you. You’re my parents. And I’m your daughter. I am your…child.”
My voice started to crack, and I took a steadying breath. My mom had been doing everything my dad told her to for twenty-four years. Now she was going to listen to me.
“You’re going to let me in and we’re going to talk for a little bit. You and me and Theo and Daddy. Right now.”
My mom stared at me for a moment more, and then, with jerky, nervous movements, opened the door wider and stepped aside to let us in.
Theo gave my hand another squeeze and I glanced up to see pride in his eyes. I felt bolstered by that one look. It gave me the courage to step inside my childhood home for the first time in seven years.
The memories assaulted me from all fronts, carried on currents of smells and sounds. Warm cinnamon, my father’s cologne, the little baskets of potpourri my mother kept in every room. The furniture was unchanged. The wallpaper in the front entry was the same white with tiny blue flowers, and I could still see the pencil marks where my mom measured my height as I grew. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in from the large bay window in the dining room to slant across the old walnut dining table.
“I used to do homework there,” I murmured. “I was a good student, wasn’t I, Mom?”
“Yes, you were,” she said in her flighty voice, leading us into the living room. “All A’s.”
We shared a look and I swear I saw a little crack in whatever armor she thought she needed to wear against me.
“Is Daddy here?” I asked, my throat going dry.
“He’s in the den,” she said, and glanced at Theo. “Cassie, your—”
“It’s Kacey, Mom,” I said. “I haven’t been Cassie since I was sixteen years old.”
She bobbed her head. “Kacey. Your father—”
His voice called behind me. “Who’s here?”