Page 25 of The Men of Summer
Once the ingredients form a smooth paste and the food processor no longer drowns out my thoughts, my hand lands on his shoulder, and I suggest, “If you want to know where you two stand, maybe you should try and reach out before we all get together.”
He grumbles, “I really hope she forgives me.”
Giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, I capture his gaze and add, “What about trying the old-fashioned way? Give her a call! I bet her number hasn’t changed.”
“I will.”
CHAPTER 15
PHOTOGRAPH
Dante
3 years later
My mind reels at the realization that this is happening. For real…
Sully, his wife, and kids just left after our Sunday brunch. Zayn is storing the leftovers in the fridge, and I’m loading the countless pots and pans in the dishwasher, doing my best to ignore my racing pulse. Conflicting emotions overwhelm me, although it’s been over two hours since they broke the news.
My shoulders slump because I feel old for the first time in my life. My shoulders stiffen because I feel lost for no reason. My shoulders straighten—at last! —at this unexpected turn of events.
Was it unexpected, though?
In spite of many lingering doubts, frequent detours, and recurring fears, Zayn and I have done a damn good job raising a fine young man, who is now his own person. He grew up so fast. He’s been sparse during his years at Berkeley. I can’t believe that he’s approximately the same age I was when Zayn wooedme. He’s much more mature than I’ll ever be, eager to celebrate his love for a young woman so dear to his heart. So much for refusing to settle down!
Like father, like son!
Our family has never been a stickler for dates and celebrations, but he chose today, Bastille Day, to announce the first step towards a much bigger step; and to think that Zayn and I never tied the knot. It was sweet of them to wait until after Zayn’s fiftieth birthday party had concluded to avoid stealing the show.
“Never mind…” Susie looks up and pauses when she notices that Zayn and I have returned from the kitchen, her features tense. Like Sully said earlier, the opinionated young woman isn’t a kid anymore.
We stop dead in our tracks, annoyed that we evidently barged in on a private exchange. Zayn’s hand slides into mine, and warmth spreads throughout my body. Yes, after all of these years and all we’ve been through, this amazing man still has the same effect on me. My cheeks heat when I glimpse at him, debating our next move.
From the new black leather sofa, where they’re sipping on their lattes, they say, “It’s okay,” in unison. They’re perfect together. Then, he adds, “You didn’t intrude, Dads.”
“You sure?”
Jeremy nods at Zayn’s question. His copper curls, which have made a comeback with a vengeance, bounce around his freckled face. My man brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles, then drops it. “Oui,Papa.” I love when our son addresses his French dad in his mother tongue. “Viens, assieds-toi avec nous.” My French sucks, but I smile when he switches back to English, and the next course of action elucidates the meaning of the first part.
From our seats beside the couch, I catch a glimpse of Dixie sprawled on her back sunbathing through the massive sliding glass door. Zayn and I sit side by side: me on the matching loveseat and him on the ottoman, where Jeremy disclosed his colorful college experience to his best friends three years ago… shortly before he and Susie rebuilt a genuine friendship. Despite the distance, they both fathomed there was more to it, yet neither was ready to commit. They fought. He abandoned his playboy tendencies. They resisted. She broke up with her overbearing boyfriend. They surrendered… After a few months of old-fashioned courtship, they found common ground. Jeremy clearly didn’t earn his patience from me.
With his left hand on his fiancée’s knee, Jeremy’s tall body swivels to catch Susie's gaze. “What were you about to say,trésor?” Her posture instantly relaxes at the French term of endearment he recently started using; that should have been my first clue that something was up.
She finishes her drink. “Guess our upcoming engagement party hasn’t lessened my feelings at being back in your childhood home, huh?” For the time being, both are living off-campus; she’s studying data science, while he just graduated with his Master’s in Engineering. Jeremy’s brow spikes up. Shooting her a quizzical look, he squeezes her knee before releasing it. “It’s just… I don’t know… Seeing your family photos displayed everywhere…” Her pretty light brown eyes water, and she wipes away the tears with the back of her hand that’s sporting the sparkling evidence of my son’s love for her. “Damn, I’ve missed out on so much, Jay.”
I can totally relate. My entire body prickles with the pressing need to reveal bits and pieces of the past. Things that we briefly broached with Jeremy—and that her admission caused to resurface.
Clearing my throat, I jump in and share with a hammering heart, “When Zayn and I first met in Seaside as teenagers, we became fast friends and spent lots of time gaming…” My sideway glance at Zayn reassures me that he doesn’t mind my unexpected confession. “I even played one of my very first songs for him!” Jeremy’s full mouth stretches into a wide smile at that, and so does Susie’s. They’ve seen my first guitar hanging on the wall of my childhood room at my mom’s. “So, yeah, close friends. Well… until this scrawny sixteen-year-old guy?—”
Zayn’s fist bumps my bicep. “Scrawny? Jeez, thanks!”
“What? It’s the truth! Definitely not scrawny anymore… But you were my favorite shy nerdy friend… Actually, not that shy since you kissed me out of the blue.”
“And you kissed me back.” my man grumbles, squirming in his seat, obviously wondering where I’m heading with this. “Before you ghosted me…” The tinge of hurt in his hoarse voice guts me; after almost thirty-five years, he still hasn’t fully forgiven me.
“Haven’t I made up for it?” I wiggle my eyebrows lightheartedly, rather than suggestively, considering the audience. “In my defense, my eighteen-year-old self had yet to figure out I wasn’t quite straight.” I gently slap my boyfriend’s forearm and clear my throat. “You got me sidetracked, baby. I swear there is a point to this!” Zayn shoots me a soft smile. My attention returns to Susie, and I recall, mostly for her benefit, “So I was straight, anti-commitment, living my best life… and he shows up again. Six years later! He came back for a friend’s wedding. That’s when I knew I was screwed.” The second the words leave my mouth, I blush, noticing the unintended pun and curse. Thank God, neither man calls me out on it or teases me for the creative tactics I’ve employed to avoid cursing in front of my son over the years. One led to our dog’s name. I quickly carry on, “I eventually stopped lying to myself… So, I groveled.”
This time, Zayn quips, “Riiight…” He snickers. I frown. We smile. “Somehow that memory eludes me…” Snarling, I nonetheless roll my eyes at his blatant deception.
