I don’t know who moves first, but I’m clinging to him and he’s squeezing me so tight it hurts.
“Kira hates me now,” I whisper.
“She doesn’t. Kids get over these things so much faster than adults.”
But as warm and comforting as his body feels, there’s another glaringly obvious truth that neither of us is acknowledging.
“There is a very good chance that this isn’t going to end well,” I say into his shoulder.
“I know,” he says, stroking my hair.
“I don’t want to hurt a dad.”
“I’ll take that risk. And if you do leave,” he says, “I’d rather spend the remaining time with you than sitting here by myself wishing I was with you and being both sad and alone. And even if I feel like total shit after you’re gone, I’m never going to regrettelling you how I feel. And hearing you say it.” He grins. “Even if I had to drag it out of you.”
“I enjoyed it,” I say. “I have hot pink feelings.”
“Mmm. What are those?”
“I can’t tell you the definition, but I’m pretty sure I have them.”
“You woke me up. And now I’m fucked.” He kisses me on the forehead. “And I’m really grateful for that.”
“I’m like Sleeping Beauty’s prince,” I muse. “I gave you true love’s blow job.”
“Actually,” he says, “I think it started with true love’s raspberry.”
30
Mom walks down the aislein her blush-colored “effortless crepe sheath.” She was very correct to go for a “geometric keyhole cutout” in the back.
She was also correct not to appoint me to an official role involving walking down the aisle, reading a poem, or maintaining good posture for the length of a wedding ceremony. She and Perry aren’t flanked by any supporting actors in matching outfits—they are the stars of the show.
All the lists, the deposits, the stern-voiced phone calls, and trips to Goodale Park at various times of day to analyze the glare of the sun seem to have been worthit.
They wrote the vows themselves and I get surprisingly teary listening to my mom deliver them with a little quiver in her voice. If you want to see your mother as a full person in herown right, watch her kiss her spouse in front of a cheering crowd.
I’m genuinely happy for her. And the side of my brain that can’t just let that happy feeling stand keeps reminding me that Mom’s life would be across-the-board amazing right now if not for me. I feel like a dark smudge on her tasteful blush-color scheme.
Jen always has everything together!
Well, except for the daughter who won’t leave the nest.
She has to cross an ocean to get her kid to launch.
I’m bracing myself for various family members to ask questions for which I have unsatisfying answers.
At least today I don’tlooklike a smudge. Nick is sitting with Kira somewhere behind me. I wonder how different it would feel if he were here as my date, sitting in the front row on my left. Would we hold hands? Or give each other sly “that could be us someday” smiles?
When I let myself imagine a “someday,” it’s always been about my career, my achievements, flying frequently enough to get lounge access. Holding Giuseppe Baggio’s vibrant paintings in my gloved hands.
A successful, stable relationship hasn’t figured in my aspirations. For most of my life, my only role models with healthy marriages were on TV. Placing trust in another person was always a losing proposition.
The fact that my mom is standing at an altar right now, given everything she went through with my dad? It makes me believe a little bit more in that other sort of “someday.”
Even if the potential other half of the “someday” was technically invited to this wedding to meet another woman.
Mom and Perry picked Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” for the recessional. As I watch them walk down the aisle,hand in hand, I see Kira bopping around to the music. Nick had assured me that Kira quickly got over our little blowup. I’m sure that’s true, but I still feel like shit for losing my cool so thoroughly on a nine-year-old.
