"Higher, Papa. She won't be able to see them if they're too low."
I adjust the string of lights along the top of the window frame while Sasha watches from below, his head tilted to one side as he evaluates my work with a critical eye. He's been directing this whole operation for the past three hours, and I've learned not to argue with him about aesthetic decisions. The boy has opinions and he's not afraid to share them.
"Better?"
"Better." He nods with satisfaction and moves on to inspect the table, straightening a fork that was already perfectly straight and adjusting a napkin that didn't need adjustment. "Do you think she'll like the flowers?"
I look at the arrangements we picked out together this morning from the florist down the street, roses and lilies in soft pinks and whites because Sasha said those were the most romantic colors. There are candles on every flat surface, waiting to be lit, and Noemi's favorite wine is chilling in a silver bucket by thewindow. Soft music is already playing from the speaker in the corner, something classical that Sasha picked out because he said it was pretty. The whole dining room looks like something out of a story book, which is apparently what happens when you let a ten-year-old with strong preferences take charge.
"I think she'll love them, Sasha."
"Good." He fidgets with his shirt collar, smoothing it down even though it's already smooth. "Papa, what if she says no?"
I crouch down so we're at eye level. I think I'm getting better at this. "Then we'll be sad for a while, and then we'll figure out what to do. But I don't think she's going to say no, Sasha."
"How do you know?"
"Because she loves us. And when someone loves you like that, they don't want to leave."
His head cocks at an angle for a second before he shrugs and says, "Okay, can we light the candles now?"
"Sure," I say, but before he gets the chance, we hear noise in the front room. Lazar has returned and I know he's brought Noemi back home after her day out.
"Go," I tell him, "Bring her in." And Sasha runs out of the dining room.
I hear his voice in the hallway, as he chants cheerfully. "Noemi! Come see! We made something for you!"
I'm beginning to get used to this nervous energy I'm feeling swirl in my chest. Noemi's opinion really matters to me for some reason, and making her happy is the only thing on my mindlately. More than anything I want to please her and make her dreams come true.
"What did you make? Sasha, what's going on?" I hear from down the hall as their voices grow louder.
"Just come. You have to see."
I stand by the table and wait, with my heart pounding. This isn't just a room I've decorated to try to please her. Today may very well decide whether Noemi and I have a chance at a real relationship. I've let her spend the day being pampered at the spa, and now I'm going to do something I never thought this life would ever give me the chance to do.
Noemi appears in the doorway with Sasha pulling her by the hand, and she stops dead when she sees the room. Her other hand comes up to cover her mouth and her eyes tear up as she takes in the flowers and the candles and the table set for three with her favorite foods.
"What's this?"
"Dinner," Sasha says proudly. "We made it for you. Well, Papa ordered it, but I helped him with the candles and flowers."
"I can tell." Her voice is thick with emotion as she glances down at him and then up at me. "Sasha, this is beautiful."
"Come sit," he urges, maybe a little too insistently. Children don't realize how fragile moments like this can be, but I can't bear to correct him. "Papa, pour her some wine."
I pour the wine while Sasha pulls out Noemi's chair for her like the little gentleman he's become lately. She sits down, blinking back tears, and I can only smile at how beautiful she is. She'salways this radiant, but her day at the spa has helped her to relax, and the peacefulness in her eyes is all the more attractive.
I want to bring this conversation up slowly, but we never get a chance to take the first bite before Sasha is running ahead like a bull in a China shop. He's so eager to discuss what he and I have been planning all day that he's not even worried about timing or mood setting.
"Noemi," he blurts out and plops into the chair next to her. "I want to ask you something."
"What is it?" Again Noemi glances at me but her smile is tense. She looks like she's not really prepared to be put on the spot like this. I feel like maybe I've crossed a line for a moment. I never stopped to think if she was the type to revel in flowers and romantic dinners. I just sort of planned this with one thought in mind. Now I’m rethinking everything.
He takes a deep breath like he's jumping off a high dive, and then he says, "Will you be my new mother?"
Noemi's face crumples. Tears spill down her cheeks and she reaches for Sasha's hand across the table but his face immediately drops and his head hangs. But I watch her face morph from overwhelm to compassion to love. Her eyes are fountains as she covers her mouth again and shakes her head.
"Sasha…"
