The answer’s been staring me in the face for a year. But knowing I need to let Noah go, and actually doing it? That’s where the real challenge begins.
20
Brad
Paislee babbles at me as we lie on the living room floor, her voice full of bright, animated squeals and face full of spit bubbles. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in ages. She waves her arms like she’s telling a full-blown story, and I can’t stop smiling at the determination on her face.
These moments are everything.
It’s Sunday afternoon, and since I’ve got the whole day off, Veronica and I have this unspoken rule where she can go out and spend her day doing whatever she’d like while I get to enjoy more time alone with my Paislee Honeybee.
Paislee flings her favorite stuffed giraffe, giving me a firm slap in the face before she army-crawls toward my chest with a big grunt.
“Okay, so it’s like that, huh?” I laugh, tickling her, erupting the loudest baby giggles I’ve ever heard. Oh, she’s going to have the best nap time in the world today.
I’m thinking about setting her down when—bam—the front door slams open, revealing a disheveled, furious-looking Veronica.
Oh shit.
I sit up, hoisting Paislee on my lap as she continues to play with her giraffe. Listening in on the heated conversation Veronica’s having on the phone, I tune in as best as I can.
“No, this is ridiculous. I don’t hear from you, and now you’re asking me for that—” Veronica slams her shopping bags down on the kitchen counter in a huff.
My breath starts picking up. There’s only one person I know of who sparks such an emotion out of her like this.
“No, I’m not saying that.” She shakes her head, pacing back and forth. “Obviously, you can, but there’s going to be some serious changes.”
I pick Paislee up and set her in her bouncing chair across the room. She playfully jumps up and down, distracted as a happy baby can be.
Walking slowly over to Veronica, I try to steady myself.
“Veronica, who is it?”
She lifts her pointed finger to me, instantly keeping me quiet.
“Fine,” she continues into the phone. She huffs, obviously feeling defeated, as she leans her arm on the counter to steady herself. “Okay. Good. Bye.” She hangs up, throwing her phone down.
I wince. “Vee, what happened?”
“Looks like my son has finally run out of pride…or cash…sounds like it’sboth.”
My pulse thunders in my ears. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
“That was Noah?” I ask, barely over a whisper. I stare at her cellphone laying there on the counter like it wasn’t just harnessing the one voice I’ve been replaying in my head for a year.
Veronica huffs out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I knew it was inevitable at some point. The kid is broke. Crawling back home to his mother. They always do.” She begins rummaging through her bags.
I rest my hand down on the bags so she’ll stop moving. “Veronica. Explain. Is he coming home?” I ramble, unable to stop.
“Yeah, he has to. I’ll send him some money for a ticket home, but you best believe he’s going to be paying us back.” She points at me. Right,because it’ll bemebuying the ticket. Never mind that, I follow her to the living room, where she says hello to Paislee, picking her up for a cuddle.
“Veronica, you have to talk to me about that before—”
Her eyebrow peaks. “Because I have to ask permission from you to allow my son to move back home? Try again.” She laughs softly, as though that question is as pathetic as I feel.
She’s right. I have absolutely no say in that.
It’s just…it’s Noah.
