Beach Glass

by Suzan Colon

  Then, everything goes dark and warm.

  Daniel enfolds me with his free arm. My face is in his chest, partially muffling Amanda’s wails, but I can hear him speaking softly to both of us. “It’s okay, it’s okay . . . shhh, everything’s all right. Just having a hard day, that’s all. I know. Shhh.”

  I sink into Daniel, weeping. How long have I needed this? Someone’s arm around me, a strong, capable chest to cry into, to be held and reassured. This was one of Daniel’s best traits. Sadness never scared him. He understood it completely, and whenever I needed to cry, he didn’t try to stop me. He just made me feel safe.

  “It’s okay, Katy,” Daniel says, kissing the top of my head. “It’s okay, Princess Peanut,” he says to Amanda, combining both of our nicknames for her. He holds us both, and gradually, she quiets, as do I.

  I WAKE UP ON my bed, covered with a blanket. I remember Daniel telling me to lie down and tucking me in, saying I needed a little rest.

  Wait, where’s Amanda? Maternal concern shocks me upright, but then I hear voices next door. Still dazed from my nap, my eyes puffy from crying, I walk quietly toward Amanda’s room.

  I hear familiar words being spoken before I get there, Daniel animatedly reading one of Amanda’s favorite bedtime stories. I look into the room through the partially open door. Daniel is sitting in my glider rocking chair, holding my daughter, reading to her. She is quiet, rapt, and very happy. When he closes the book, she says, “Again!”

  Daniel laughs. “Really, a sixth time? Okay, either you love this book or I need to do dramatic readings.” He sees me in the doorway and smiles. “Look who’s here, Princess. It’s Mommy!”

  “Hey, Peanut! Oh, baby, I’m sorry, you must be starving,” I say, feeling like I went from beauty pageant winner to Bad Mother of the Year.

  “She had dinner,” Daniel says, still holding her, rocking easily back and forth.

  “What? How?”

  “What do you mean, ‘how’?” Daniel laughs. “I fed her. There were chicken nuggets in the freezer,” he says. “I called Ray to find out if that was okay, make sure Amanda wasn’t allergic to anything. Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” I say, “I’m just kind of stunned that you made my kid dinner. And basically babysat her while I was passed out. Hey, how did you get Ray’s number?”

  “It was on a list of emergency numbers on the fridge.” Daniel tries not to grin too proudly at me. “I’m not a total dork, you know.”

  “I didn’t say you were a total dork. I just didn’t know you knew how to take care of kids.”

  “I don’t.” His face turns more solemn. “I can learn.”

  Amanda starts to drop off, and I gently take her from Daniel and put her down in her crib. We both look at her, because a sleeping baby can inspire awe in anyone, and then I motion for him to follow me outside. He hangs back, his hand in the crib, touching Amanda’s tiny fingers. Then he follows me to the living room.

  “I’m sorry about tonight,” I say, not sitting down.

  Daniel looks confused. “What are you sorry about?”

  “Two females having complete meltdowns on you, for one thing.”

  He looks himself over. “I seem to have survived.”

  “And the way I yelled at you.”

  He shrugs. “You needed to yell.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled, but I meant what I said, Daniel,” I tell him, crossing my arms. “I . . . I don’t want you to come around anymore.” He looks stricken, but I have to say this. “I don’t want Amanda getting attached to you.”

  “But why?”

  “Because—” I lower my voice, not wanting to wake my child. “Because of what I said before.”

  “Katy,” Daniel says, taking a step toward me, “I told you I’m not leaving.”

  “Right,” I scoff. “Look, all the things you said to me were very nice. It’s a lovely way to end our story.”

  “This isn’t a story you’re writing,” he says with an edge in his words. “These are our lives, Katy. Our life, together.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a package deal now,” I say, nodding toward Amanda’s bedroom.

  “I think you’ve noticed that I like the package,” Daniel says. His words are light, but his expression is serious. “I mean it, Katy. I’m not leaving this time, or ever. I made this mistake before. I’m not making it again. I love you. And I love Amanda.”

  “Don’t you dare—!” My voice is rising again, so I grab his arm and drag him by the sleeve into the nearest room, my bedroom, and close the door almost all the way. “Don’t you dare say that!”

  “It’s the truth!” he insists. I know Daniel well enough to know when he’s being honest, and everything that’s radiating from his warm brown eyes right now is pure. “I love you, and I love Amanda. I know that’s not easy for you to believe.”

  “Not easy? It’s impossible! You didn’t want children,” I hiss.

  “I never said that. I said I wasn’t sure, because you were pressuring me, everything at once—marriage, kids, all of it, immediately. Besides, Amanda’s not ‘children,’” he says. “She’s your child. That’s different.”

  “How is—oh, whatever. Aside from that? Your track record, Daniel, sucks! I’m not getting tricked by you again, and I’m damn sure not letting my daughter be hurt by you!”

  I don’t know whether I gasp or lose my breath when Daniel grabs me and holds me close. I try to push him away, but that just pins my arms between our chests. I look up at him angrily, and he looks at me with an expression that is completely new to me. Patient, but defiant, and bold.

  “I’m not going to leave you,” he says slowly, enunciating each word. “I don’t mean just tonight, Katy. I mean ever.” He says it so definitively that I can’t argue. I’m even more speechless when Daniel brings his mouth to mine, kissing me deeply, with as much conviction as his words.

  There is a special place, a part of this world and yet protected from it, that I’ve been a few times in my life. It’s warm. It’s so safe. Nothing bad can happen to me here. Time seems to slow down to a very comfortable pace, and my thoughts soften because there is nothing to be afraid of, nothing to worry about. I haven’t been in this place in so long.

  The place is in Daniel’s arms. It’s the magic circle we make together. I felt it when he was calming me before, only it was different, even better, because Amanda was part of it, too.

  The place, I realize as Daniel kisses me and holds me close, is love.

  When he feels me returning his kiss, his grip on me relaxes enough to let my arms slide around his back. He feels broader now, stronger. I feel a warm hand cradle my face in the way Daniel always used to when he kissed me, his thumb stroking my cheek with such affection as his lips part mine. The way our mouths meld together . . . . Oh, that warmth, that familiar waltz we do. I remember this, yes, but it seems different now. Like something I can believe in.

  A soft sound of crying startles us apart. Daniel looks around. “Baby monitor,” I tell him.

  He follows my eyes to the dresser, where a tiny red light on the monitor flashes in time with Amanda’s sleepy cries. “Is she okay?” he whispers.

  “Sometimes she just fusses for a second and goes back to sleep.” We remain frozen in our embrace, both watching the baby monitor, listening.

  Daniel looks at me. “Shouldn’t we check on her?”

  We. Not you. We. A word I haven’t heard in a long time. It’s one of the most thrilling and wonderful words Daniel could have said to me in this context. Of all the persuasive and lovely things he’s said, that one word means the most. We.

  The small cries coming from Amanda’s room are soon replaced by the sweet sound of her even breathing. “I think everything’s okay,” I tell him.

  His thumb strokes my cheek again. “Are you sure?”

  I nod. The only thing I’m not sure of is whether I’m talking about Amanda anymore.

  A thought comes to me that this day was all
so honest and real. My daughter is beautiful, and she screams and throws tantrums. Daniel may love a memory of me, but, well, I scream and throw tantrums, too, and yet he loves me. And now, he says he loves us, Amanda and me. I want to believe him, but one thing that has to change between us is me being afraid to speak honestly.

  I look up at him. “This isn’t easy. Her, me,” I say, so he knows what I’m talking about.

  “No kidding.” He shakes his head slightly. “She could break your heart.”

  “Every day. She fills it, she breaks it, she fills it again.”

  “I kind of know how that feels.” His eyes crease with his slow smile, but then his expression turns serious. “I want to stay, Katy. I want to be with you. Both of you. I want to wake up with you, every day. Forever, for always.”

  I have the feeling I got when I was looking at those waves for the first time. Can I do this? I don’t know, but I can be honest about that. “I’m afraid, Daniel. We’re different people now. We may not be the same as we were.”

  “No,” he agrees. “We’ll be better.” He leans down and touches his forehead gently to mine. “Letting go of you was the hardest, scariest thing I’ve ever had to do, Katy. I did it because I wasn’t ready to be the man you thought I could be. But I’m ready now. I’m ready to be what Amanda needs me to be, too. I’m here for both of you.” He looks deeply into my eyes. “If you want me.”

  Daniel draws me close, holding me, letting me rest my head against his chest, where I can feel the steady beat of his heart.

  I remember Carson holding me this way. One time, I tried to tell him that because I truly loved him, I wouldn’t try to change him by taking him away from a life he loved. Whenever I listened to the beat of his heart, I knew it was singing a different song than mine does. The way my father’s sang a song of a different life than the one he chose. It didn’t mean he didn’t love his family, or that Carson didn’t love me. But I was so in love with him, I asked him to change too much. Sometimes, loving someone means letting go.

  It’s what Daniel did for me. But the absence of our love is what ultimately made him believe in himself. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in the conviction in his voice. I know he’ll be here for me and for Amanda.

  If I want him.

  I can’t say yes to this just because my daughter needs a father. I can’t give Daniel false hope just because I need to be held. I haven’t thought of anyone since Carson.

  I close my eyes. When I look up at Daniel again, I’m going to follow my first instinct, no matter what it is. And I’ll speak my truth no matter how much it may hurt the three of us.

  Slowly, I open my eyes, and I look up at Daniel. And I say the first thing that comes to my heart. “I love you, too.”

  The kiss is as wonderful as our first, but better, I think, because there are no hopes, no dreams. It’s all real. Daniel’s mouth comes to mine in a way that combines the thrilling with the familiar, and he holds me like he’ll never let me go. He breaks our kiss only to smile at me, happier than I’ve ever seen him. And I feel something strange and light in me. I’m happy, too. So full of joy, just to be here with this man. My Daniel.

  He cradles my face in his hand. I look to the side and see the letter K on his wrist. “That must have been hard to explain to other women.”

  “There were no other women.” He strokes my cheek. “I got set up a few times on dates, that’s all. My heart just wasn’t in it.” The light is low in my bedroom, but I can still see him blush. “The last woman I was with was you, Katy. And you’re the only woman I ever want to be with again.”

  His admission touches me deeply, and I stroke his face, my thumb caressing the outline of his straight brows, my fingers trailing along cheekbones more prominent than I remember.

  Then, I have an idea. “Come with me.” I take his hands.

  I lead him over to my bed. His eyes light up, and I let him lift my gauzy peasant shirt and take it off, leaving me in my simple white bra. But when he reaches for my jeans, I take his hands. “Uh uh. My turn.”

  I take the bottom of his white long-sleeved shirt and lift it slowly, caressing his skin as I pull it upward inch by inch. Daniel’s eyes close as he smiles.

  “Wow,” he says. “Does it feel that good when I do that to you?”

  “Yes. And it feels good to do it for you.”

  Like everything else old and new, our sweet lovemaking ritual has changed. Daniel and I go back and forth, each removing a piece of the other’s clothing, turning the act of undressing each other into many things. Nurturing, caring, teasing, loving. Soon, we’re naked before each other.

  Only now do I remember that my body has changed, too, pregnancy and nursing showing on me. “Things are a little different,” I say, feeling slightly self-conscious about stretch marks and the natural heaviness of my breasts. But one look at Daniel wipes that away.

  “God, Katy,” he whispers. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

  “And you’re . . .” I look at Daniel’s arms, built up and strong. At his carved chest, the delves outlining his abs, the slopes of his hard thighs. “You’re hot!” I say, making us both laugh as quietly as we can, so we don’t wake Amanda.

  We collapse onto the bed in giggles, like the kids we once were, so thrilled to be making love for the first time, again. This feels like the first time in a new life for us. Our laughter is silenced by our happy kisses, which quickly become passionate. Daniel parts my lips, our tongues meeting joyfully. The taste of his mouth is as sweet as everything he’s said to me. The weight and hardness of his body is different, but I could get used to that. Oh, definitely.

  I wrap myself around him, my skin hungry for as much of his smooth warmth as possible. I only release him to let him kiss his way from my neck all along my collarbone and my shoulders. The feel of his fingers in my hair gives me tingles of delight. He holds one of my breasts possessively while he gently licks and sucks the other. Daniel doesn’t just make love to my body. He adores it.

  My hands trail along his back, feeling the muscles undulating as he kisses down my belly, loving every stretch mark my baby left. Then my hands are on his strong shoulders, his mouth leaving soft kisses on my inner thighs. I close my eyes, remembering that Daniel was the first person I ever let do this to me. The memory leaves in a shower of sparks, my head thrown back in passionate thrall. He knows me so well, knows the most intimate terrain of my body, and he takes his time with me, enjoying how I writhe beneath him.

  Only for a second does he pause to teasingly whisper, “Shhh, you’ll wake the baby!”

  “Don’t stop,” I whisper back urgently.

  Daniel resumes his sensual magic, and after a moment I have to put a pillow over my face because I’m moaning so loudly I could wake the baby down the block.

  While I try to regain my breath, I feel Daniel kissing his way back up my body, pausing again to adore my breasts, taking my hands and kissing the tip of each finger. He pulls the pillow away from my face. “There’s my pretty Katy.”

  I look up at him and touch his cheek. “I can’t call you Darniel anymore. It doesn’t fit you.”

  He lies on top of me and pulls me close. “Maybe I can rate some other name.”

  “Daniel.” I love the look in his eyes when I say it. “My Daniel.”

  “Always,” he says. “I love you, my Katy.” He takes my hand in his and kisses my palm. As close as we are, suddenly, that’s not close enough. I hold his hand and reach down so that we guide him inside me together.

  The intimacy makes us both exhale for the love of this reunion. For a moment, we stay that way, wonder in our eyes as we gaze at each other. How can this be, I think. How can we be? Fate, or a wish, whatever it is, I can’t believe we are again. But I know I can believe in Daniel. And in myself.

  And so we share our first dance together in a long time. But it’s not the last.

  45.

  FOUR YEARS AGO, I wished for a wedding.

  I imagined going dress s
hopping with my mother and my sister. I saw myself doing fun, girly wedding things, like picking out invitations and flowers and colors. I knew I’d ask my mother to do my hair, pulling it back the way she did when I was a little girl, loosely, so a few wavy tendrils frame my face. It’s the same way I’ve done Amanda’s hair today.

  When I wished for that wedding day, I didn’t think my flower girl would be my own daughter or that Brigitte and William’s son Nicholas would be our ring bearer. I knew that all the friends Daniel invited to my thirtieth birthday party would be there, but I didn’t know that Juan, Randy, and Evan—and his pregnant fiancée—would be with us, too. And I didn’t imagine that my wedding day would be on my birthday. The only part that’s the same is the groom. Daniel.

  Over time, the wish changed. The wedding was the same, but the groom in my mind’s hopeful eye was Carson.

  My billowy white skirt folds under me as I get to my knees, alone for a moment in the small bridal room in the church near my mother’s home, the one I used to pray in after my father died. My father, a poet and a dreamer, who gave me the gift of falling in love with the written word and the lesson that sometimes, you have to go pretty far to find what is already inside you. I love you, I silently tell him.

  And Carson. My beloved Carson, who lit a spark in me and one that burns so brightly in Amanda. It’s because of Carson that I became the person I am, the person he fell in love with, and the person I always wanted to be. I bow my head, and when I close my eyes I can see his eyes so clearly, a sea of green that sparkles with the sun. I can see his smile, and all of his brightness and his promise. This is the way I remember Carson. I love you. I will always love you. My love for you lives on in Amanda.

  I don’t say goodbye. There’s no need. My father and Carson taught me how to love, and they are in my life. Always.