Page 117 of The Leaves In Autumn
“No. I hear you.”
“Do you? What are you going to do about it? Stay there mooning over someone half a world away? Wishing you had the balls to tell her you love her?”
There is no impulse to deny what is obvious to my son. And to me. All at once, it comes clear. What I have been doing in the house, everything I have been sensing, and most of all, what needs to be done.
“Go to her, Dad. I know she’s waiting.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because Sam and I went to her house to say goodbye on the way out of town.”
“What? And what happened?”
“She practically admitted she was in love with you. Said there was something big between you, but didn’t want to discuss it with us before she did with you. AND, she said she didn’t know if you felt the same. You’re both ridiculous.”
Every cell in my body reacts. They sizzle with the shock.
“God, you two are like twelve-year-olds. Get it together! There’s an expiration date on life, you know.”
Out of the mouths of, not strictly babes, but the young.
“I will. I love you, Teddy.”
He doesn’t soften with the news.
“Tell her that, not me! Tick tock.”
* * *
It’s taken another week to line up my ducks. Once I tell her how I feel, and hear the right response, I want to be able to take off for France. Think the daily emails and texts to her have set up tonight’s call perfectly. She writes back as soon as she reads them. I can hear in her words the happiness they bring. Matches mine. Like the conversations and sparring has connected us again. Her real voice comes through, minus the hesitation that was there the last days we were in each other’s company. I can hardly wait to look into that face. To love her.
Now, walking into Dad’s favorite Chinese restaurant, I feel an excitement. Not for the Moo Goo Gai Pan, but for what I am about to share. Knowing how happy they will be for their son. The have been with me every step of the way. Through the fire.
“I’m meeting someone here,” I say, passing the hostess, barely in her teens.
She nods and moves to the next customers who came up behind me.
Looking around, I spot Mom and Dad in their favorite booth. Already sampling their favorites. Mom sees me and waves.
“Am I late?”
“No, honey. You know your father; he cannot wait ten minutes to order.”
“Why wait? We all know what we like!”
I slide in next to Mom and put my cell on the table. She looks at my face first, and then Dad follows.
“What’s up? What’s happening here?” he says, pointing to my face.
This is going to be fun.
“What are you talking about?”
“Something is going on.”
“Nothing’s going on! Jesus people. Oh, these look good.”
I take a serving of the sweet and sour pork and help myself to a fat one. Mom’s fork gets put down. She wants free hands to access the situation.
