“And, to you two crazy kids. You’re fucking nuts, moving in together at such a young age—”
“We’re twenty-four and five,” Ash reminds him at the same time I say, “Mid-twenties aren’t exactly young, dude.”
“But I guess everybody has a soul mate, right?”
Yeah, I think as I look down at my girlfriend of two years. My heart twists in this funny, blissed out dance. They really do.
I make my way out of the house, having napped way too long this afternoon. It was a wonderful luxury, though; lately, it seems there’s never enough time to just relax anymore.
Jonah and Kellan are already down at the beach. I can see them; they’re probably a hundred feet away from the wrap-around porch, waxing their surfboards as they talk.
I drop down onto one of the rockers; I don’t want them to know I’m up just yet. I like these moments where I can simply watch them doing things like this. Actually, I like watching them do just about anything, especially when they have no idea I’m doing so.
Their heads are fairly close together, shiny black hair merging seamlessly together in the bright sunlight. It appears that Kellan is telling Jonah something funny, because my husband is smiling like crazy. Kellan’s smiling too, cracking up in his boyish way that never fails to charm me. I can’t help but wonder what he’s saying; part of me yearns to just go down and make him start from the beginning so I can be part of it, but this is their thing, their time together. There’s a bond between the two of them that no one, not even me, can understand.
I watch them for a long time, rocking back and forth, contentment wrapping around me like a warm, soft blanket. Kellan’s story has now finished; Jonah’s shaking his head in that exasperated, amused way that I know all too well. And then he looks up toward the house, they both do, and I’m waved down to join them.
“You going to surf with us today?” Kellan asks me as I approach.
I sit down in the sand and let him know I’m more than happy to just watch, thank you very much.
He does this thing, where he almost rolls his eyes but then stops. “She’ll never get better if all she ever does is watch,” he complains to Jonah.
“It’s okay,” Jonah answers. “She can’t help if she wasn’t born with surfing in her blood. Give her time.”
“How much more time does she need? Hasn’t she been trying for over a decade now?”
I try my best to keep my mouth straight. “I’m sorry I can’t be awesome like you two.”
“You could be.” Kellan gives Jonah a meaningful look. “If you only practiced more.”
Jonah merely chuckles at this and leans over to kiss me. Butterflies swarm around my chest.
Kellan pretends to gag. “Do you two have to do that around me? You know it makes me uncomfortable. So. Gross.”
“So. Sorry,” I tease. “We’ll try to remember that next time.”
He stands up, smacking sand off his hands and knees. “No you won’t. You two are impossible. It’s embarrassing. You’re too old for this sort of behavior. None of my friends’ parents do this sort of stuff.”
Jonah exacerbates the situation by kissing me once more before also standing up. “I’m fairly certain they do. Your friends would not be in existence right now if their parents didn’t.”
“Ugh!” Kellan sticks his fingers in his ears. “That’s child abuse right there. You should never talk to a kid that way.”
“By the way, Kellan” I point out, “we’re certainly not old. In fact, we’re considered young parents by most standards.”
“Mom,” he huffs. “I thought we went over this. KC. Call me KC. Why is that so hard to remember?”
Jonah gives me a look that basically asks: what can you do? Our son has made it abundantly clear over the last few years he prefers the nickname Emily Graystone bestowed upon him than the one we gave him at birth. I mean, I’m not shocked by this. He and Emily are thick as thieves despite their age difference. And KC makes sense: K for Kellan, the uncle he doesn’t know, and C for his middle name Cameron, the grandpa he worships.
“Fine.” I let out an exaggerated sigh. “We’re not old, KC.”