I wouldn’t necessarily recommend bursting into tears in front of a live studio audience during the taping of a network television show. But now that it’s over, I don’t regret that it happened. My whole body suddenly feels lighter, as if all the dense, unwanted energy stored up inside me has finally been forced out.
Joan sits next to me on the train back to Jersey. She’s hugging her guitar the way another child might cuddle a boardwalk teddy bear.
I’m the adult here, theoretically, but I’m not sure how to handle this situation. Whether to be stern or compassionate. To teach or listen. All I know is that this little girl nearly made me lose my shit today. And frankly, I have very little shit left to lose.
I’m not the only one reeling. I called Paige before we boarded the train back and told her what had happened and that everything was all right, but she was so flustered she could hardly speak other than to ask when exactly we’d be arriving home.
“You really had us worried there, kid.”
Joan mutters something in a faraway voice.
“Can you repeat that?” I say.
“Do you think they’ll remember me?” Joan asks. “She wouldn’t let me play my song and then you came onstage and she was more interested in talking to you.”
I take the guitar from her and rest it on the bench. “Joan, listen to me. I’ve met a lot of people in my life, but never anyone one like you. I mean it. And when I say that, I’m not talking about your memory. Fuck Mandy Love.”
“Mindy.”
“Right. I’m not talking about your songwriting either. I’m talking about you. All of you. The whole person. You’re easy to admire, you know that? You’re tenacious. It takes me forever to make a decision about something. But you know exactly what you want and you’re not afraid to go after it. You’re just like Sydney was.”
They’re really not so different, Joan and Sydney. Both maniacally driven and stubborn as can be.
“And you’ll never forget Sydney, right?” Joan says.
It’s the easiest question I’ve gotten all day. “Never.”
The train screeches as it hugs a turn. Joan’s head falls on my shoulder. I wiggle my arm free, pull her in. I’m clearly no parenting expert, but right now I’m pretty sure the thing to do is hold her.
“I wish you could live with us forever,” Joan says.
And I was just now thinking it’s time for me to leave. Paige and Ollie have been hosting me for weeks. They’ve been good friends and today, to repay them, I nearly lost their daughter. I think I’ve hung around long enough.
Plus, I have a little sister I promised I’d go visit. I think I’m done putting things off for another day.
Back in Jersey City, we turn up the street and immediately notice the hunched-over figure on the Sully stoop. Paige. She glances up from her phone, sees our approach, and rushes toward us until Joan is close enough to take in her arms. They embrace on the sidewalk, Paige unwilling to let go for what seems like minutes. She finally pulls away, keeping one hand firmly on Joan’s shoulder, and she doesn’t release her completely until we’re through the front door and safely inside.
There’s a moment of quiet in the living room, and then Paige’s demeanor hardens. She sends Joan to her room and orders her to wait there until she comes to get her.
“I’m sorry,” I say, once we’re alone. “I should’ve watched her more closely.”
“It’s okay,” Paige says, sitting down.
It doesn’t feel okay. Not even close. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“How you manage as a parent. It’s terrifying.”
“It is,” Paige admits. “It really is.” Her chest expands and then contracts, all the tension going out.
It makes me want to see my sister that much more, to hold tight to the family I still have left. “It’s time for me to go.”
“Not because of this, I hope.”
“No. It’s just time. I want to go see my sister in Florida. We need to talk.”
“Are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?” Paige says. “I’m dying here.”
I fill her in on the day I spent with Mara, doing my best to include all the details of the story. What sickens me most is the thought of Syd being driven to such extreme measures—flying across the country repeatedly to court a woman he’d just met—because of me and my indecision. It was all such a waste of time when deep down we both wanted the same thing.
“It’s my fault,” Paige says. “If I’d just said yes to Syd, you guys could’ve been parents.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Ollie and I talk about having another kid. But I’ve waited so long to get to this point where my life is mine again. I can finally do what’s right for me.” That last word echoes against adjacent buildings.
“You deserve it, Paige. Look, if anyone should be beating themselves up, it’s me. If I had just asked my sister a year ago, when we first started talking about it, it would’ve been so simple. But I did what I always do. I waited and now it’s too late.”
She turns and stares at me. “Is it?”
“What do you mean?”
She stands up, making me even more anxious than I already am. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, what Syd wanted and what he missed out on. What you both missed out on. And it suddenly dawned on me. Didn’t you and Sydney freeze your sperm?”
It takes me a few seconds to sift through all the little moments and decisions of the last year. “The doctor told us it wasn’t necessary,” I say, “that it was mainly for people who were about to go through chemo or something like that. But Syd insisted on doing it anyway. Honestly, it seemed like a waste of money to me, but you know Syd.”
“I do know Syd,” she says, giving me a look that only confirms how little I actually know.
“Paige. I really don’t understand what you’re getting at here.”
“Don’t you see? The plan you and Sydney had from the very beginning—it doesn’t have to change. You could still use your sister as the donor.”
Now that she’s finally arrived at her point, it seems obvious where she’s been heading. Still, what she’s suggesting sounds utterly absurd. “Are you crazy? If I wasn’t ready to have a child with Syd, why would I go ahead and have a kid on my own?”
“Not just a kid. Sydney’s kid. If you really wanted to, Gavin, you could totally do this. You’re a natural. I’ve seen you with Joan.”
“A natural? Are you kidding? I almost lost her.”
She scoffs. “That can happen to anyone. Believe me, I’ve done worse.”
“I don’t get it,” I say. “You just admitted to me how terrifying it is to be a parent and now you’re telling me to do it alone?”
She throws her arms out. “Yes, it’s terrifying, but it’s totally worth it.”
“Really? You were also just saying how excited you were to finally have your life back.”
“I say that, but I wouldn’t change what I have for anything. Like I told you before, I wouldn’t go back to college or high school or any other time. I have Joan now. If I go back, I don’t get Joan. She’s everything, Gavin. Her and Ollie, that’s my whole life.”