“You hungry? You want some lunch?”
I nod, but I don’t elaborate. I don’t tell him what I want to eat or suggest a plate of reheated leftovers. Instead, I smile at him.
“What?” he asks when he’s met with silence.
“Nothing,” I say. Because it’s really nothing. It’s like he said. Our life isn’t perfect, but it’s our life. I know I still need time for myself. I also know I’m going to go through so many ups and downs, and I may always be the way I am. And we’re going to have to keep working at things not only because our marriage needs work, but because we want to. And I can’t wait for it. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.
“Would you be mad if I wanted the cookies for lunch?” I whisper, making sure Sophia is out of earshot.
“You’re going to have to eat them in the pantry because there is no way in hell I am backing down from her,” he says, pointing a cautious finger in the direction of our daughter still pawing at the cookies.
I laugh. “Only if you promise not to tell.”
“Scout’s honor,” he says, miming a zipper closing his lips. “How about I distract her, and you stuff as many cookies as you can in your mouth in…three minutes.”
“Three minutes?”
“Do you not know who we’re dealing with?” he asks, jerking his head to the side, covertly referring to the apparent warden of our home.
“Can’t even eat cookies in our home,” I comment. “In our home that we pay for, by the way.”
“When did we become this?” he says, feigned discontent evident in the playful shake of his head.
“I think around the time she wrapped you around her tiny pinky.”
He chuckles, his laugh dissolving into a sigh as he leans down to kiss me. “Can you blame me?”
“Nope,” I admit.
“You now have two minutes and forty-two seconds,” he says, a taunting bounce in his eyebrows. He dashes off, scooping Sophia into his arms as he distracts her. Giggles fill the air, and I don’t even bother with the cookies.
Epilogue
When James’smom gave birth to him, sometime in the early-mid eighties, the new parents didn’t know what they were doing. They cradled a mere two-week-old Jimmy in their small one-bedroom apartment in Carson, California, not yet established in their two-story, four-bedroom home minutes away from the San Diego beaches. Much of their nights were spent with failed attempts to get their firstborn to sleep while bulging out of their small living quarters. Eventually, James acclimated into his parents’ lives. They maintained a routine that didn’t run off sleep deprivation and cramped apartments. The subsequent notable series of events happened at lightning speed.
Not long after James was born, his parents, Jasper and Elizabeth, welcomed Joshua. James was still in diapers, and the notion of having two children in diapers made the both of them squirm with anxiety. As did the idea of bringing home a newborn with neighbors who made regular noise complaints about crying babies. By the time the news of a third baby graced them, house hunting joined the picture. As did the coastal views of Pacific Coast Highway. It was a huge upgrade, and they couldn’t believe their real estate dreams were coming true. They received thekeys with a level of heed they later on realized was unnecessary. The couple and their growing family welcomed the third baby Cohen not long after they unpacked the heirloom china from Jasper’s grandmother.
Christine was the bouncing baby girl they had been hoping and praying for. She wasn’t stuffed into a small crib wedged between a dresser and a toddler bed. Instead, she got a pretty, pink nursery with dust ruffles and a rocking chair. And by the time school drop-off and basketball practice and weekend art classes joined the picture, another sweet surprise was thrown into the mix. Andrew, the baby of the family and one they least expected, graced his family with his presence and turned their world off-kilter with a whole new baby routine to readapt to.
And now, as they watch their brood celebrate another milestone, they realize how much life has been breathed into their family. Through birthdays and weddings and grandchildren.
At the start of their relationship, when Jasper brought Beth home to meet his family, he grew nervous and a little apprehensive about Beth meeting his grandparents. They did the very normal thing of embarrassing their offspring, but they did it with such fervor that he wondered if they did it on purpose. Of course, there was always much to be proud of, and they never had the need to exaggerate. Jasper knew that from an early age. His family was large, which gave many opportunities for his grandparents to brag. At any mention of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren, their eyes would light up, and they’d whip out a travel-size photo album to show off their beautiful family.
Jasper Cohen vowed never to do that. It’s just too embarrassing. Until the day he went in search of his own plastic-lined photo album, thin enough to slip right into his jacket pocket, and filled it with pictures of his own family. James with his wife Kendall, little Sophia a giggling mess in their arms inhis backyard after a day spent in the pool. Josh and Mina with her burgeoning belly, dressed in pink tulle for a set of maternity pictures he couldn’t stop looking at. Christine with Everett, smiling proudly at Sadie’s graduation, her cap lopsided and a colorful lei draped around her neck. Andrew and Grace in front of their new home, a SOLD sticker slapped over the FOR SALE sign hanging from a yard stake with their border collie sitting dutifully by their side.
It’s become an album he carries around like a badge of honor or a book of his accolades. He may not have all the money in the world, a fancy yacht or a twelve-bedroom mansion sitting at the edge of a cliff, or even plaques of his life achievements mounted in his office wall, but he feels like the richest man alive.
“Dad,” Teeny calls. “You want some champagne?”
Jasper nods, noticing the fine lines forming at the corners of his daughter’s eyes. Similar to the ones he sees in the mirror. Only his are deeper and harder to ignore. “Teeny, we’re so proud of you,” he gushes, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Thanks, Dad,” she whispers. They both turn to look at the small art studio where all their immediate family has gathered. It was a cold, empty space when Teeny decided to rent it out. It took some time and care before she turned it into what it is now. Large easels, folded and stacked against a wall. Worktables with wooden stools. Glass jars by the sinks, fresh, unused paint brushes bunched in them like bouquets of flowers.
“You guys really made it happen,” he says with a whisper of disbelief.
“Didn’t think I had it in me, did ya?” she teases.
“No, of course I did,” he assures. “It’s just different for you to say it and to actually see it happen. I’m so proud you followed your dreams.”
