Instead of embarrassing myself, I give her a peck on the mouth and slide out of her. Our routine, solidifying. As I walk to the ensuite, I know I probably have a stupid smile on my face, so I work to school it into something more normal since she’s right behind me. I wash up while she’s in the water closet, throwing on a pair of sweats. I grab one of my sweatshirts and lay it out for her by her sink, just in case she wants to throw something on right away. I know she has her own clothes, but seeing her in mine is another stupid fantasy I hope she’ll fulfill.
She walks to the sink, sees the sweatshirt and looks back at me. “Can I wear this?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you’d want to just throw something on. You definitely don’t have to, but it’s there if you want it.” She doesn’t even respond, just picks it up and puts it on. It's big on her, the bottom hits just below her ass cheeks. She pushes the sleeves up and starts washing her hands. I’m already half hard again. Her in my clothes, in my bathroom,ourbathroom, after morning sex, it makes my chest tighten and my insides squeeze. If I had to wait almost 50 years to do this withher, I’d gladly do it again and again.
EIGHTEEN
Britain
I’m sitting on the back deck, drinking coffee, soaking up the morning sun. I fully intended to come out here and read Georgia’s notebooks, but instead I’m just forest bathing. Itfeelspeaceful out here. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I’ve found ‘the peace,’ but I have found some happiness. The last couple days with Liam have been blissful. Being with him comes naturally. The awkward bits of most new relationships are just nonexistent with him, like our coexistence meshes perfectly with one another.
I’m waiting for the shoe to drop, though. I don’t know if it’s going to come before my planned departure or when it’s time for me to leave, but I know it’s coming. We haven’t talked in the slightest about the future. I mean, it’s only been two nights since I moved over here from the rental. Ignoring the fact that I’m leaving feels easier than trying to broach the subject with him; it’s too early. If this were any other “normal” dating experience, I would never even entertain the idea of moving in with a guy after two dates, but that doesn’t mean we’re immune to the “future” talks.
I do know he wants me here, but maybe it’s because this whole thing has an expiration date. It’s easy to go all in on five weeks, a lot harder to be all in on a long-distance, long-term, committed relationship. No matter which way I’ve looked at it, I don’t see a solution at the end of this, just a painful goodbye and separating of this fantastical part of our lives. Even knowing all this, I don’t want to stop it. I think of Sandy and what she said about today, that’s all we have, sometimes tomorrow. I can’t live right now for tomorrow, I have to enjoy this time, knowing it’s probably all we’ll have.
I’ll go back to D.C. to keep parenting my children, hopefully guide them into early adulthood, see them off to college, and he’ll be here or in Sonoma, working, doing what he loves. All it will amount to is one of those lifetimes Rose talked about. I can’t escape the feeling that Liam is going to be the heaviest grief I’ll carry. This life with him now will be the greatest weight in my bones. It’s going to hurt like hell and I’m scared. I’m really fucking scared.
Since I’ve just destroyed my own peace with my wandering mind, I flip open a new notebook and start reading,
June 16, 1986
You took me out for the first time tonight. We picked up dinner from the Hofbrau and drove over to the park to eat. It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect. You were so kind to me, just like you always are. And I’ve never laughed so much, I don’t think, ever. I’ve done a lot of crying lately, but you, you washed away all of that tonight. You asked me what was one thing that always made me happy, and the answer was easy, chocolate ice cream. You said, ‘okay, from now on, I’m the one thing that makes you happy, but if you can’t have me, you can have chocolate ice cream.’ I laughed when you said that, but I already stopped on the way home and picked up a gallon of chocolate ice cream. I know there’s going to be a lot of nights I can’t have you, but hopefully soon. Hopefully I’ll get to trade my ice cream in for you every night.
What isthis?It’s clearly Georgia’s handwriting, but I can’t grasp what or who she’s talking about. Is it a friend? A lover? It can’t be my dad, they were already married. Still married at the time she wrote this.
“Do you need more coffee, Bambi?” Liam calls through the sliding door.
“Umm, yeah. Yes, please.” I’m still kind of stunned by this entry. For a minute it brings me back to my childhood and this fantasy I had that Ray Palomino was not my father. As a ten year old, I couldn’t fathom how any father wouldn’t want to be around their child, or how he could want to be around one of his children, but not the other. The only reasonable explanation I could come up with was that I was a love child, between Georgia and some foreign prince who would come get me on my 13th birthday and take me to my home kingdom to prepare me for life as a royal. It was veryPrincess Diaries.
I still held on to some thread of this fantasy into my 20s when I finally begged Alexander to do DNA testing with me, which only confirmed the ugly truth. Ray Palomino was my father, and he just didn’t want me.
“Babe?” Liam is holding the coffee cup in front of me to take.
“Hmm, sorry. I’m just trying to figure out this last entry.” I tend to not read the notebooks when I’m with Liam. I’ll do it when he’s at work or on calls in the office. I did gift him with the reading of a couple excerpts that were particularly embarrassing from my childhood. Like how I ended up with a cat named Sweat Pee.
June 15, 1994
I gave Britain the cat today. It was love at first sight. She knew instantly what she wanted to name her. We took the kitty to the vet to get it’s shots, and I have learned a few things since then. 1. Britain needs to work on her spelling. And 2. Our she kitty is a he kitty. I started the day thinking we had a cute kitty named Sweetpea, and ended the day with a fierce barn cat named Sweat Pee. That’s what I get for letting Britain fill in its name on the paperwork.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“Can I read it to you and you tell me what you think it sounds like? Is that okay?”
“Hit me with it,” he says as he takes a seat, facing me on the outdoor sofa. I read it to him then look up, waiting for his answer. He looks uncomfortable, maybe sharing this was a mistake. I forget he knew Georgia, maybe better than I did. Is this awkward for him?
“I guess I don’t know the full context, but it sounds like she had a date with someone.”
“I thought that, too. She was still married to Ray when she wrote this, but it was before I was born.” I laugh. “Do you know that for most of my childhood I was convinced Ray wasn’t my real father?” His face has drained of color and he definitely looks uncomfortable.
“I didn’t, definitely didn’t know you thought that.”
“Yeah, so much so that I forced my brother to go get DNA testing with me so I could find out for sure. Turns out Ray Palomino is my actual father, and he was just an asshole.”
“Sounds like Ray was definitively your father then.”
“Yeah, unfortunately.” He still looks strange, shocked even.
“So, this is your first time hearing about Georgia potentially having an affair? I mean, your first time reading about it, that is?” he asks, cautiously.
