“I’m jealous.”
That one stopped me. “You’re jealous I’m pregnant? You want a baby?”
“Don’t be dense. I’m jealous of Jason. I hate that you love him. And if you’ve got a baby to love, too . . .” Her voice cracked, but she pulled it back together. “What will happen to me?”
I reached for her hand. “Tati, you’re my best friend. I will always love you, and I need you now more than ever!” My eyes stung. I let the tears fall. I’ve held them back too long.
Tati leaned across the seat, opened her arms, and I pleated myself into them, gathering warmth and strength. Dove soap perfumed her skin and her breath was cinnamon. Home, that’s what I thought. Tati smells like home.
Finally, she pushed me away. “Okay, I know you’ve got plans, so let’s get the birthday stuff over with.” She handed me a silly card with kittens eating birthday cake, and inside it were two tickets to an Astros-Rockies game. “It’s Houston’s first home stand this season. I was going to try for opening day, but this one is on Saturday. You can take Jason instead of me if you want.”
My jaw actually dropped. “No way. I want to go with you. But since when do you like baseball?”
“I don’t really, but maybe if you teach me about it . . . I know they have cute players.” She sighed. “I just . . . when you told your favorite memory of your dad, I wanted to make a memory like that with you.”
Happiness poured into my heart, like water from a pitcher.
It was a strange sensation, one I’ve never experienced before. I didn’t exactly know what to do with it. “This is the best present, ever. And I’m damn sure going to go with you, as long as you’re driving.” I reminded myself to put the tickets in my secret stash spot under my dresser, along with Dad’s manila envelope. “Mom gave me ten bucks. Let’s have lunch before I meet Jason.”
We opted for subs rather than pizza, which makes me queasy at this point in time. Then she dropped me off at Jason’s friend’s apartment. Jason was there, beer in hand. He’d had a few before I arrived. “What took you so long?” he demanded.
I was only a half hour late, so I’m not sure why I felt compelled to apologize. “Sorry. I had lunch with Tati. She wanted to give me a present.”
“Just so you know, I’ve got something for you, too. Come here.”
“Can I get a beer first?”
“No. Not good for the kid.”
It was the first time he’d ever denied me, and even though he might have had a valid point, it pissed me off. “I don’t think one beer will hurt her.”
“Him. And it’s not up to you. I’m saying no. Now come here.” He softened slightly. “Please.”
Everything about Jason seemed different, and I hesitated to go closer at first. But then he smiled and held out his hand, which held a little box, gift wrapped in blue-and-silver foil. Inside it was a sapphire-and-diamond ring. Small stones, but real, and set in fourteen-carat gold.
“Let’s do it,” he said. “Maya McCabe, will you marry me?”
Ariel
Headed Home Again
It’s almost like nothing unusual happened. Well, except it’s later, and now Gabe and I know a lot more about each other than we did before. Still, we’re both on the hunt for information. Before diving into that dialogue, however, I put in a call to the hospital and ask about Hillary. Whoever’s on the answering end of the phone can’t—or won’t—tell me much
except she’s still in Emergency.
“Maybe I should’ve told her
I was Peg Grantham,” I joke.
“Although the real Peg would probably have me arrested
for impersonating her if she
ever found out.” I give Gabe
a quick overview of my earlier conversation with the shrew.
Maybe she was having a bad day. And, face it, your call wouldn’t have made it any better, you know?
He’s Got a Point
“You’re right,” I admit. “Maybe— maybe—I’m too quick to judge. I think it’s a defense mechanism I designed somewhere back in my childhood.
Better to push people away than get too close and then have to leave them.”
Gabe has skeletal knowledge
of Dad’s and my prior nomadic
existence, but we haven’t discussed it in depth. Now, however, he asks, Why did you move around so much anyway? That must’ve been hard.
Remembering some of the people
I allowed myself to call friends, a fog of wistfulness blossoms.
“I didn’t always mind, but once in a while we stuck around long enough for me to connect with someone and it hurt to know I’d probably never see them again. I can’t really tell you why Dad refused to put down roots.
He said it was itchy feet, but there were times it felt more like he was trying to run from ghosts of his past.”
The Danger
In opening up is allowing too much
to spill out. Because now Gabe feels comfortable asking, What kind of ghosts? You mean, like, your mom?
I take a deep breath, hoping to slow the stumble. “She’s one, I guess.”
You never talk about her. Do you ever see her? Where is she now?
All vestiges of my earlier regret