After we hang up, I finally pour my cup of coffee and peek in on Esben. God, asleep he looks even more like a damn angel.
I check the time and then call Simon.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he answers, all chipper. “You enjoying the coffee I got you?”
I slurp loudly into the phone. “Right now, in fact.”
“So I hear. Excellent! What’s going on?”
I explain about Steffi’s cruise.
“I see. Well, Steffi has always been one to seize the day, so let’s be happy for her that she’s taking this wild adventure. I know it will be strange not to have her with us, but we’ll make do.”
I clear my throat. “I was thinking that this year, we could...you know...do more Christmas stuff.”
He pauses, and I know he’s trying not to sound too excited. “Really?”
“Yeah. Like, we should get a tree and hang stockings.”
“Lights? Wreaths? Extra presents? Ninety kinds of garish cookies?”
The idea makes me anxious, but it’s time for me to get over my holiday phobia. I am not a kid without security anymore.I am not.“I think it would be nice.”
“I think it would be nice, too.”
I’m quite sure that Simon is jumping up and down right now, but I appreciate his effort to remain calm in the face of this exciting news.
“And how is young Esben?” he asks.
“He’s good.” Then I stop for a second. “But he just had a tough night. He’s a little sad.” I run a finger over the rim of my coffee cup.
“I’m sure he’s glad to have you for support.”
“I hope so. I think so...I’m not used to seeing him unhappy.” I fidget with the sash on my robe. “I care about him so much.”
“I know you do, and, from what you tell me, it’s obvious he cares about you just as much. Allison, it’s all right to be sad sometimes. Even though he’s generally upbeat, he can still have low points, too. It means he’s human.”
“You’re right.” I drop the sash. “Thank you.”
“Tell him that I said nice job on that last video. The one with the sketch pads.”
Esben spent the day after Thanksgiving in downtown Boston, fighting Black Friday crowds, handing people sketch pads and asking them to write or draw whatever makes them happy. The video compilation of people holding up words and pictures is yet another beautiful piece of his, complete with music, lots of smiles, and a few tears. Surprisingly, few people responded by drawing anything material, despite being in the midst of all that shopping chaos and greed.
“It was really nice, wasn’t it?”
“I’m on Twitter, you know,” Simon admits a bit shyly. “I didn’t know if I should follow you or not.”
I laugh. “But I gather you follow Esben? Of course you should follow me. You’re my father.”
There is a long silence, and I think both of us are slightly taken aback. While I may refer to Simon as my adoptive father when I speak about him to other people, I have never directly addressed him asmy father.
“Yes, I am,” he finally says softly. “I am. So, I’ll follow you as soon as we hang up. And I’ll be sure to tweet reminders about calling home, eating your veggies, and getting plenty of rest.”
“Esben taught me how to block people,” I inform him with a giggle, “so you’d better be careful.”
“I will behave! I will behave!”
“Okay. I’ll see you online. Bye, Simon.”
