“Even more handsome… if you shave the beard.”
I chuckle quietly. “Don’t worry. I’m planning on it. I want to look my best for you.”
“Yay!” She whispers excitedly, her eyes bright with approval. “Beverly is on her way.”
I blink at her three times, her sister’s name registering in my brain.
“She is?”
“Yes. She was already at school when I called her first thing. She told the principal she had a family emergency, and he quickly found someone to cover for her. Oh, George. I’m so happy Bev can be here for our wedding.”
We stand there in the closet, hugging one another.
I’ve never met Beverly, but from what Madison has told me, she’s a nice sister, and I’ll like her very much. I’ve often wondered what having a sister or brother would be like.
A thought crosses my mind, and I frown.
“Do you want children?” I blurt out.
Madison pulls back from me, her expression filled with surprise. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”
She helps me remove the jacket and puts it back on the hanger. I follow her out of the closet, and we tiptoe out of the bedroom.
Once we’re in the hallway, she quietly closes the bedroom door and hands me the hanger.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.
“No. No, George. I guess we should talk about this, shouldn’t we? I mean, we are getting married today. And most couples talk about these things before they tie the knot.”
“Tie the knot?” I’m confused again.
She loops her arm through mine and leads me to the living area. “Tie the knot means to get married. It’s an expression.”
“Oh.” I watch her sit on the sofa, and I stand there like an idiot, holding the hanging jacket. I’m not sure what to do.
“Hang your jacket on the door knob and join me on the couch.”
I’m relieved she’s giving me instructions. My mind has been a whirlwind of confusing thoughts and tasks with my regular routine out of whack. But for the most part, I think I’ve handled it well.
I sit next to Madison and grip my hands in my lap, unable to make eye contact with her as she speaks.
“I would like to have a child. Yes. But only if you want to.”
I mull over her words. She slips her hand into mine, and I stare at her bare finger to see where my grandma’s ring will go. Pop gave it to me when she passed away, telling me to save it for “the one.”
Happy memories my grandparents shared about my mother and father fill my mind. My mother’s name was Meredith, and from all the pictures and stories shared with me through the years, I know she loved me. Pop and Grandma Rosie told me how excited she was when she found out she was pregnant.
My father’s name was Tyler. Ty for short. Apparently, he was ecstatic when he learned his first child would be a boy.
I remember seeing a wedding photo of the two of them in an old album, Tyler’s big bow tie and Meredith’s long veil captivating my young mind. But I remember the sorrow too.
When I was old enough to understand, Pop gently explained how my mom died giving birth to me and how grief-stricken my dad was when he lost her. But the ultimate betrayal was learning my father blamed me for her death.
And then he abandoned me.
He left me parentless.
What kind of father does that to his only child? To his onlyson?
