Page 20 of Healing Hearts
“Blame the aliens. They warped my brain that one time you didn’t show up when I called.”
“That’s slanderous chatter,” I say, sliding into the seat beside her. “I’ve never not shown up when you told me the aliens were upon you.”
“You realize from now on, all my texts are going to lead with one word: Aliens.”
“And I will drop everything to appear at your side, like a good boy.”
“I do love a good boy,” she says.
“Good boy in the streets, naughty boy in the sheets.” I waggle my eyebrows at her.
“Do not ever teach my son that rhyme,” she says with a laugh. “Like, ever.”
“Someone is going to have to teach him how to pick up women,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee. “You want me or his friends?”
“That is many years from now,” she says, “so that’ll be a game day decision.”
“Put me in, Coach.”
“By then, we’ll be old, and he’ll have no desire to learn anything from either of us.”
“More slander. I’ll always be the cool uncle.”
“You’ll be someone’s cool dad someday, I’m sure,” she says, avoiding my eyes as she takes a drink of her coffee.
“Doubtful,” I say as I cut a piece of the toaster waffle. “These aren’t as terrible as I thought they’d be.”
“Amir and I have tested many, many brands in our bid to find the best toaster waffle.”
“I think it’s a success.”
“If I was a better mom, I’d be making them from scratch.”
I catch her gaze and hold it. “You gotta let go of other people’s expectations or stupid standards—you’re enough for him, I promise.”
“You’ve been making a lot of promises lately,” she says, her tone light, but I think the meaning might be heavy.
“I was thinking about what you said last night when I carried you to bed.”
“Was I talking in my sleep?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I eye her. “You said the idea of a donor didn’t appeal to you as much because you’d have another kid without a dad.”
She flushes, and I wonder whether she really doesn’t remember saying that to me. Shehadbeen half-asleep.
“And I think, if that’s how you really feel deep down, that maybe you should keep dating. You’ve still got quite a few years before you need to worry about being too old, right?”
“Too old is relative,” she says. “I could freeze my eggs, get a surrogate. But I also don’t want to be starting over again in ten years when Amir is fifteen. Already, if I got pregnant today, they’d be about six years apart.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I admit.
“Trust me when I say that’s all I’ve been doing lately is thinking about it. From every angle. Every scenario.” She points to her computer and her stack of papers. “Pros and cons. The whole thing. I don’t want to use a donor. That’s not my first choice, but I don’t want a relationship either. The idea of having a relationship with a man doesn’t appeal to me. Not yet. There wasn’t a single spark on any of those dates. Maybe that phase of my life has passed, I don’t know. Maybe the donor is the lesser of two evils.”
“I just want you to be happy,” I say.
“I want to be happy too,” she says, “and I’m trying really hard to figure out what that looks like.”
The roads remain closed, but the snowfall starts to let up. I spend most of the day outside, digging Emily’s car out, digging my truck out, clearing the sidewalks, and helping her elderly neighbors to get their properties clear of snow too.
