“Diet Coke?” Jules asks, pulling her lips into an anticipatory grin.
“Cold,” I say as I pull a chilled bottle from the bag to offer her, “and there’s a case in the car.”
She cracks open the bottle, and as she pulls the first sip of the fizzy drink, her head falls backward in a way that I could almost be led to believe she’s practically coming. Dropping a hand onto her round belly, I laugh as I’m met with a kick against my palm.
“She got CJ a few minutes ago, too,” she chuckles.
“Oh yeah,” the old man agrees from his perch next to Connor on the couch, “Avia’s my new buddy.”
“And Miles body slams my bladder every time she kicks,” Jules grumbles.
“He’s getting pushed around in there,” Connor argues, trying to bite back his laughter. “It’s not his fault.”
A loud laugh bursts out of CJ, drawing my full attention to him, and I smile widely at the old man sitting in front of me.
His hair is cleaned up and combed back, product keeping each strand trained in place. Where a long beard sat less than an hour ago, his skin is smooth and clean-shaven. I recognize the shirt; a smile from Connor confirms that it came from his section of our closet.
“Your daughter’s not gonna recognize you,” I tell him, clapping him on the shoulder. “You clean up nice.”
A warm smile spreads across his face, his eyes crinkling so deeply at the corners that it’s hard to see past them.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen her in, oh, seven years now,” he tells us. A hand proudly strokes the smooth skin of his jaw. “I’ll get to meet my grandkids.”
“You’ll just have to make sure that you’re back in time to meet these two,” Connor says with a gesture toward our wife, who lovingly rubs her belly.
CJ’s eyes go wide, flicking between the three of us. If I focused hard enough, which I avoid doing in order to save his pride, I might be able to make out tears forming in the corner of the old man’s eyes.
“You want me to meet them?”
“You’re the closest thing they have to a grandpa,” I tell him. “Of course you’re meeting them.”
When I talked to his daughter last week to get his travel sorted, I mentioned that she might be able to plant the seeds for him to stay with her, that the idea might take this time. Once he meets her kids and sees her again, in the flesh, I can’t imagine him walking away.
I’d miss him, and there’s no way he would get away without keeping in touch and taking visits from us every now and then, but he needs to be with them. He deserves a good life and to be with his kid.
He has to come back to meet ours, though. I’ll hold him to that. When they get here, he’d better be right back here, even just for a day. Just to say hi.
This feels like a clean slate – not just for me, but for all of us. It’s a chance to step through the piles of shit we’ve all been handed in our lives and get through to something good.
And I’m so fucking ready for it.
TRIPP
“What’s your shop called, monster?” I call out to my niece, perched on the couch and impatiently waiting for me to join her.
My toes slam into the wheel of the double stroller as I pass it in the living room, the newest arrival delivered from my brother and his girlfriend. I think half of the store – or maybe all of it – is coming in, in a slow drip of packages.
The place is only as cleaned up as it is because Brody’s been coming by every morning since they got here to help us ‘maintain a certain level of cleanliness.’ Whatever that means.
“Ummm…” Her face twists, her eyes scrunching as she thinks. “Katie-cat cat tattoos by Katie.”
So she’s chosen a specialty, I guess.
Giving Drumstick a playful toss onto the coffee table in front of her, I gesture toward him with a flourish. “Your first client.”
A giggle flies out of her as she massages her fingertips into the side of his belly, which she helped me wash yesterday afternoon.
“Where’s my mommy?” She asks.
