It’s the first time Hayden has ever referred to Kiran as his step-dad, and I have to admit to getting a warm fuzzy.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” she says. “Thank you for having me.”
“Well, come inside for a minute.” I motion for her to follow me. “Let’s get you something to drink.” By this time, Hayden’s friend Eric has arrived and he’s now greeting him.
As Jennifer stands beside me in the kitchen, I open the refrigerator. “Let’s see. We have tea, lemonade, soda. There’s also beer, wine, and some kind of fruity coolers in here.”
“I’ll try one of the coolers, thanks.” This girl is nothing like the type Hayden normally brings home, although he is referring to her as a friend. She looks like she could be an athlete, with her sun-kissed hair pulled up in a high ponytail and tanned arms without an ounce a fat on them. In fact, you could say there’s not an ounce of fat on her entire body.
“So how do you and Hayden know each other?”
“Oh, I work part-time at the Starbucks where he orders a grande Café Americano with room for a little milk. Every morning.” She laughs.
“No pastry or cake pop with that?”
Jennifer makes a face, as if she’s afraid to rat him out. “Mmmm, maybe every once in a while.”
“It’s okay. I know his love of sweets. Wait till you see the amount of banana pudding he puts away.”
Hayden appears from the backyard. “What evilness are you telling her about me, Mom?”
“Nothing! God, you’re so paranoid.” I give her a smile before going back outside. Well, that was a nice conversation, but unfortunately, it didn’t give me any idea of whether or not they’re more than just friends.
I return to the backyard to see Seth playing tag with Claire around the swing set, where she squeals with excitement each time he comes close to catching her. My heart is warmed to see Carly sitting in Jason’s lap as they share a lawn chair, chuckling as they enjoy watching her having a good day.
How it makes me wish they could have more days like these.
***
Later that evening after everyone has gone home, we ask the kids to sit down with the four of us—me, Kiran, Luke, and Richard—so that we can discuss something we’d like to propose. Claire has already crashed for the night, and Carly and Jason sit side by side on the sofa, a little uncertain.
“So.” Luke leans his arms on his knees. “We know how much strain you two have been under, with the numerous doctors’ appointments for Claire, still not getting any answers, her meltdowns. And your mom and I were trying to come up with some ideas as to how we could help you out more, until Claire gets a little older and you guys can get some kind of answers, and hopefully the treatment she needs.”
Both of them sit quietly, looking from one of us to the other. “We know it’s been hard,” I say, “having to bring in a private babysitter because she can’t attend regular daycare when you two are at school or work, but we did some more looking around, and found a private developmental preschool that said they would consider taking her after meeting with you.”
Twisting his watch, Jason frowns. “What is developmental preschool, exactly?”
Please don’t let him balk at this, believing it’s something that will only stigmatize her. I glance at Luke before continuing. “Well, it’s a preschool for kids with special needs. The teacher-to-student ratio is a lot smaller than a regular daycare or preschool, and they have behavior counseling, occupational therapists that can help her with coordination, and she’d also get socialization with other kids.”
Carly’s eyes are wide as she stares at Jason, I assume waiting on his reaction.
“It actually sounds pretty amazing,” he says, turning to her. “But there’s no way we could afford something like that.”
“That’s why the four of us are going to pay for it,” Luke explains.
Shaking her head, Carly blinks. “You guys can’t do that. Dad, you and Richard are already letting us live here rent-free. We’ve already taken advantage so much…”
“You have not taken advantage,” Richard chimes in. “You two were dealt a challenging hand, and you’re doing a great job with Claire, but you need more help than we’ve been able to give you.”
“Your mother has also found a behavioral counselor that she would like to take Claire to,” Kiran says, “in addition to the preschool, if you’re agreeable.”
I clear my throat before jumping in again. “Yeah, unfortunately, the preschool is only three hours a day, so you would still need to keep a babysitter, but I thought I could take her to this counselor a couple times a week as well. You wouldn’t have to worry about any of the transportation. We figured between the four of us, we can work it out. Hayden even said he’d be willing to pick up or drop off from the preschool when his schedule allows.”
Worried that they may be feeling like we’re trying to completely take over their parenting, I rub the back of my neck. “It would just be temporary, at least until she’s three and could start qualifying for services. But in the meantime, we thought this might give her a good head start.”
Carly covers her mouth as tears spring from her eyes, her body shaking, and Jason places a hand on her knee in an effort to comfort her.
“Baby, we didn’t mean to upset you,” Luke says. “Make you feel like you’re doing a bad job. We just see what the three of you are going through and we wanna help.”
“No, that’s not it.” She shakes her head. “I just can’t believe you guys would do all that for us. It’s too much!” Rising from her seat, she walks toward Luke and holds out her arms for an embrace, which he eagerly accepts.
Still uncertain of whether or not Jason is okay with all this, out of the corner of my eye I search his reaction. With softened features, he watches Carly hug her dad, then he turns to me and releases a heavy breath. “Thank you,” he whispers.
TWENTY-FOUR
With all the craziness of the past few months, it seems as if the week before the wedding has arrived overnight. Anxiously awaiting my parents’ arrival in baggage claim, I miss the days when you could meet visitors at the gate. It was Christmas I last saw them, when they came to spend the holidays with Kiran and me. Usually they’re here for Thanksgiving, too, but they had booked a cruise with friends this year.
I locate my dad first, in his bright Hawaiian shirt with a carry-on bag on each shoulder, as he looks behind him to check if my mom is keeping up with his quick pace. Then he lifts his head to search the crowd. When he spots me, he grins broadly, and my own smile must split my face as I rush to meet him. He lets the bags slide off his arms and pulls me into a bear hug. “Anna-Boo!”
“Hey, you guys look great!” Letting him go, I embrace my mom. “All tan and fit!”
“Well, your mother looks gorgeous as usual, but I’m beginning to look like a saddle bag with eyes,” Dad says, quoting City Slickers, one of his favorite movies.
“Shut up! You do not. You look wonderful.” I pick up one of the bags he had set down and drape the strap over my shoulder.
“I can get that, Boo,” he argues.
“I got it, I got it. Mom, how was the flight?” The older she gets, the more she hates to fly. Anxiety.
“It wasn’t so bad. However, your dad probably has a few of my fingernail marks on his arm.”
We reach the assigned carousel and wait for their luggage to spill out. “The traffic is going to be horrible getting across town because of rush hour. Are you guys hungry? I thought we could grab a bite somewhere at Town Square until the traffic dies down.”
“Sounds marvelous, sweetie,” Mom says, rubbing her forehead. “I’m dying for a cocktail.”
“Where’s my future son?” Dad asks, looking for Kiran. “I’m slighted he isn’t here!”
“He’s at home watching Claire. Jason and Carly had planned a date night, and believe me, they need their date nights.”
Dad spots one of their bags and pulls it from the carousel. Then he turns back to
me with a wrinkled brow. “Little peanut’s still having a rough go of it, eh?”
“Actually, she’s starting to show some improvements since she’s been seeing the counselor and going to preschool. Granted, she still has her moments, but I think things are better than they were.”
We’ve now collected all their luggage and begin walking to the parking garage.
“The doctors still can’t give them any answers?” Mom asks. “That seems so crazy!”
“Well, if it is Asperger’s… autism…whatever, it’s hard to diagnose, especially as young as she is. But now that she’s coming up on three, if they can get some kind of diagnosis, it would qualify her for services through the school district and wouldn’t cost them anything. In the meantime, the counselor has been working on her panic attacks, her tendencies to fixate.”
A half hour later, we’re sharing a plate of appetizers at Brio. “So how was the cruise?” I ask.
“It was very nice,” Mom says.
“Just nice?”
“I’ll tell you one thing.” Dad pulls off a piece of French bread from the loaf on the table and dips it in balsamic vinegar. “Those all-inclusive things are not good for the diet. I must have gained fifteen pounds on that trip.”
I suddenly notice something strange about my father’s appearance. He’s always been extremely hairy, but today, there’s absolutely no fuzz peeking out the top of his shirt. “Dad, did you shave your chest?”
“No!” he answers in his gentle, playful voice. “I had it waxed.”
I manage to swallow the sip of water in my mouth before laughing. “What? Why would you do that?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I was starting to shed. It was everywhere.”
My mother appears completely disinterested in this topic and takes a bite of her salad before she says, “It’s true, dear. Our bed was beginning to resemble a barber shop floor.”
What about the rest of his body? His chest was the only place that shed? I shake my head. “Okay, then.”
“Tell us how things are with you and Kiran. How has cohabitation been?” Dad asks.
“Oh, it’s been fine.” I sigh. “We’ve had to work through some midlife junk, especially since his heart attack.”
“Ah, midlife. Such a wonderful time.” His eyes sparkle as if he’s recalling his first love, making me chuckle.
“If you say so.”
“Don’t make fun, Everett.” She pinches his arm. “Anna’s been having a rough time, and I know exactly what she’s going through.”
His eyebrows shoot up in recognition. “Oh! We’re talking about the menopause. I’m sorry, Boo.” He bows his head in mourning.
“It’s okay, Dad.” I smile at his antics. “I’ll work through it.”
“Have you started taking hormones?” Mom asks.
“No, I wanna try to avoid them, if I can.”
“Good luck, sweetie. I’m back on them again myself.”
Sitting across from me, Dad leans forward and asks quietly, “Has Kiran started the manopause yet?”
“Yes, I think maybe he has.”
He turns to my mother. “Remember my manopause, sweetheart?”
She rolls her eyes and nods.
“I became a potter,” he tells me.
Pointing a finger, I say, “Oh yeah. So that was manopause?”
“Oh yes! I bought a pottery wheel.” Dad becomes animated, moving his hands about. “And a kiln, and I put them both in the man cave.”
“All those God awful pieces he made!” Mom laughs and takes a sip of her martini. “Remember? That was shortly before we moved to California.”
“I do remember that,” I say thoughtfully. “It was pretty awful all right.”
“Hey, I was going places.” He looks back and forth between us. “I planned to take part in ceramic shows all over the country. It was only when I went to a local show that I realized how horrible I was.”
“Yeah.” I make a face. “That’s not one you usually hear about. Sports cars and career changes, maybe, but not pottery.”
“So what was Kiran’s manopause behavior?” Dad asks, rushing his words.
Our meal arrives and we pause for the waiter to set our plates before us. Once he leaves, I answer, “I’d rather not say.”
They both eye each other and Dad says, “Ah. Sexual behavior.”
“Dad!” I spear my fork into a piece of shrimp. “Could we please change the subject?”
***
The following afternoon, my lady friends and relatives gather at my house for the bridal shower Carly and Julia are throwing me. It’s rather small, with my mother and Kiran’s, Gretchen, and my friends from work.
After we all share some champagne and a little gossip, Carly connects her laptop to the TV for the shower’s first activity.
“Oh, no. We’re playing games?” I ask. “I thought this was just going to be about eating, drinking, and socializing.”
Julia lets out an evil chuckle. “You’re not getting off that easy.”
“So here’s the deal.” Carly stands before us, all business-like. “We’re going to ask you a question about Kiran to see how well you know him, you’ll give your answer, and then I’m going to play the response he gave us on video.”
Touching my forehead, heat rises to my face. “Lord! You got him in on this?”
“Absolutely.” She scowls, as if I shouldn’t be surprised.
“Okay.” I sit up straight and wiggle my body to “shake it off,” readying myself for the challenge. “I think I may need some more champagne for this.” Mom takes my glass and heads to the kitchen to get me a refill.
“The thing is,” Julia continues. “Each time you get the answer wrong, you have to stick a piece of bubble gum in your mouth.”
“What if I get the answer right? What do I get?”
“The sweet satisfaction of knowing your beloved.”
“That’s it? That seems like a pretty raw deal!”
Mom returns with my glass, which is so full it’s nearly spilling over. “Thanks, Mom.”
“All right. First question.” Carly holds a note card in front of her. “Where did you two first meet?”
I wave that one off. “So simple. English Lit class in high school.”
Carly plays the short clip of Kiran’s response to confirm my answer. “Don’t get cocky now,” she warns. “They’re going to get more difficult. Next, when and where was your first kiss?”
“These must be the freebies,” I say before giving my response.
Once again she clicks the play button on the laptop to display Kiran’s answer. “Our first kiss…” He gazes at the ceiling, recalling the event. “It was in my parents’ apartment, our first night in Varanasi, India.” Then he looks at the camera with a small smile. “And she was the one who kissed me. It was very sweet.”
The ladies all hoot and holler as I turn to our hostesses. “Okay, that involved some coercion, because I know he wouldn’t offer up that detail on his own.”
“Of course it involved coercion!” Julia shrugs. “No one wants to just hear ‘at my parents’ apartment in Varanasi.’ That’s boring!”
I fold my arms across my chest and sigh.
“All right, next. When and where did you first sleep together?” There’s a flash of mischief in Carly’s eyes.
“Really? You’re really going to ask me that when both of my moms are here?”
Geena and my mother look at one another and chuckle.
“Come on.” Julia coaxes with her open hand. “Let us have it.”
I hold out my palm.
“What?” she asks.
“Give me a piece of gum. I pass.” I am not sharing that the first time we had sex was the second night we were in Varanasi, again, initiated by me. Not in front of Geena.
“Who said you’re allowed to pass? He’s going to answer and everyone will know anyway.”
Still holding up my palm, I say, “I don’t care. Give me a piece of gum.”
Carly sighs dramatically and slaps two huge pieces of bubble gum in my hand. “A pass earns two.”
Giving her a dirty look, I unwrap them and put them in my mouth.
Kiran’s response: “Where and when did we first sleep together?” Scrunching his face, he says, “I’m not going to answer that—because I’m a gentleman.” Again, he looks at the camera to address me. “You’re welcome, beautiful.”
“Ha!” I point to Julia and Carly as everyone laughs. “B-b-b-burn! I should get to spit out my gum for that one.”
The two of them look at each other with shared disappointment. After answering “what is Kiran’s dream car” and “who is his celebrity crush” correctly—a restored Nash Healey Roadster and Michelle Pfeiffer—Carly says, “What would he say is ‘your song’ together?”
Uh oh. This one stumps me. We don’t really have a song, and I don’t recall having any conversation of the sort. “Hmm…”
“And no passing!” Julia says.
Think, Anna, think. What would he choose? With a grimace, I say, “That’s a tough one, and I can’t think of anything off the top of my head.”
“Do you give up?”
“No, no. Give me a few more seconds.”
“Ten, nine, eight…” Carly says.
So I shrug and just throw something out there. “‘At Last’? You know, that Etta James song?”
She tilts her head and smiles before resuming the video.
“I’m pretty sure you’re going to miss this one,” Kiran begins. “Given that we’ve never discussed having a song.” He uses finger quotations. “But during a layover in the States on our return from Varanasi, this song played in the airport while you dozed off. I’d heard it before, but never paid much attention. Anyway…” He shrugs. “It pretty much summed up I how felt at that moment. How I still feel.”
The video cuts from his face and music starts to play, accompanied by a montage of photos of the two of us. I look up at Carly. “Did you do this?”
“I helped,” she says proudly.
Turning my face back to the TV, I hold my hand out for the next piece of gum.
Stay with me. My love, I hope you’ll always be… the old Genesis tune begins, and tears sting my eyes. As my guests share their “awwws” at the pictures, I shove the piece of bubble gum in my mouth, trying to keep my composure. Chomping on the growing wad, I touch my lips with my fingertips as I listen to the words of the song. Mom, seeing me overcome with emotion as I sit on the floor, reaches down for my glass to offer me a refill, which I release without looking her way.
Menopause to Matrimony (Fortytude Series Book 2) Page 16
