I sighed in Swedish, “You know, I almost went home with her once.”
Jonah giggled.
“Hey now. Go easy on me, buddy,” I said. “I know it was a missed opportunity. She is still a hundred times hotter than I could pull now. Regrets are pointless, though.”
Jonah reached for an eyeliner pencil.
I groaned. “Yeah, I know, it’s depressing. I’m a sad sack.”
I picked up the brow highlighter and approached the counter. A girl behind it smiled at the baby first. I pushed the tiny, overpriced duty-free box forward.
“Hallo,” the girl said, tone metered as expected.
“Hi,” I said. “No German, sorry. Just English and Svensk.”
“Oh, I speak English,” she shrugged, tossing her side pony over a shoulder. “He’s so precious.”
I fumbled, pulling out my phone case. I failed to pry my credit card from the wallet pocket.
“He’s surprisingly heavy,” I said. “Uh, my card is right up top. I don’t know how to get this thing out with one hand.”
“Got it,” she said, confidently. “How old is he?”
“Uh… let me think.” I thought a moment, and she looked understandably horrified. “Sorry. I’m not his mother. I’m friends with his mothers. I took him on a walk. I’m just the de facto mom.”
Relief crossed her face and she handed my card back. “He’s chubby. That is the word?”
“Yes,” I said. “Very much.”
With one hand, I tapped the chip reader and paid the thirty euros I knew could be better spent elsewhere. However, unlike this young woman, I hadn’t grown up in a time of luscious brows. Instead, I tweezed mine within an inch of having any left and itshowed.
“No receipt, please,” I said. “Danke.”
I pushed my phone in my pocket, then picked up the tiny makeup bag. Returning to the spot in the terminal where the band camped, I realized Alicia had curled on Bea’s lap. I saw Bea panic, wondering how she could handle both the baby and Alicia.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got him,” I said. “As long as he’s not bothered, I’m not.”
“You really don’t have to. I feel so bad?—”
“Stop,” I said. “I love babies. You know that.”
“It’s just so weird because you’re the only childfree one.”
Childfree. I bristled.
“What?” Bea whispered.
“Eh. I don’t know if I’m childfree or childless,” I said.
“What is the bloody difference?”
I set my jaw. “It’s the difference between being single or alone.”
I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but the word hit anerve. Part of me would always mourn what I lost in that time I spent caregiving not for a baby, but for a grown woman who had no one else. I loved my mother and didn’t regret the last years I got with her, but I put so much on hold. The more kids my inner circle enveloped via birth or adoption, the more I gained glimpses into what I lost.
She cocked her head and shook the baby’s hand. “I didn’t know?—”
“Look, it’s pointless,” I laughed it off. “I had my share of parenting a parent. I am grateful to have the little guy in my life and to sometimes live vicariously through you. Let me be the auntie to spoil him, alright?”
