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Lucas chuckles. “She’s stressed out over the wedding and she needed to do something other than obsess over it. She needed this more than you realize.”
Sophie is in a small stroller for a change and since it’s evening and his home is close by, Lucas invites me over for dinner.
I hesitate.
So without the blink of an eye, he instead suggests picking up some takeout and taking it to my place instead.
The transition is effortlessly smooth and before I know it, we are entering my apartment, with bags of steaming Thai food.
I prepare Sophie for bed and Lucas offers to change her while I empty the food into dishes.
By the time I’m done, I find him in her room. He’s put her in her crib and is talking to her in a low, soothing voice.
She has her fist in her mouth as she blinks tiredly at him.
I watch them for a few minutes.
Lucas is resting his folded arms on the raised part of the railings of the crib as he looks down at Sophie.
I’ve never worried about raising Sophie alone. But right now, I do find myself thinking that it would be nice to have someone to share this experience with. Not just anyone…just Lucas.
Not just for Sophie, but a partner for myself with whom I can share Sophie’s achievements, her joys, her tears.
Lucas looks over his shoulder at me and smiles.
It’s a soft, affectionate smile and I suddenly wish he didn’t have to go home.
However, I banish the thought from my head as he heads over to me, whispering, “She’s asleep.”
I turn on Sophie’s night-light and kiss her on her forehead before quietly closing the door. “You’re surprisingly good with children,” I tell him.
Lucas shrugs. “Debra and I kind of raised ourselves when we were young. Mom was always working, so I would usually look after Debra even though we were the same age. And then at some point, I started babysitting in junior school to earn some pocket money.”
We sit together on the too soft couch, our knees bumping as we dig into the food. Lucas tells me about his childhood stories and I notice the lack of mention of his father. I don’t ask him about it but I listen to him. I see a responsible ten year old who takes care of the house along with his sister. I also see the despondence, the desire to be carefree like the rest of the children his age. I see the boy making sacrifices right, left, and center, and not seeing anything wrong with it. I see the devil may care attitude when he talks about getting into fist fights with the neighborhood boys and then hiding his bruises from his mother as Debra would clean him up.
But despite it all, the suffering I can see he experienced through the small stories he tells, I can see he was never unhappy.
“My parents were very religious,” I tell him as I brew him a cup of green tea. “I couldn’t move out of the house fast enough. They’re still very upset about Sophie, though. Won’t even look at her.”
Lucas frowns. “That must be very upsetting.”
I bring him a cup of tea. “Well, yes and no. I don’t want Sophie to be without any family but I also don’t want them to force their views on her which they are bound to do. I want her to live a normal life, a happy one.”
“So, they’ve cut contact with you?” Lucas asks.
I shake my head. “Mom calls me once a week to see how I’m doing. She never asks about Sophie but I tell her nonetheless. Lately, she’s actually stopped hanging up the phone when I bring up Sophie.” My smile is wan. “Maybe she’s getting curious about her granddaughte
r. Dad and I were never close to begin with but last week, I heard someone turn on the speaker when I was telling her about Sophie crawling."
“Sounds like they’re coming around.”
I shrug helplessly. “Who knows what they’re doing? I don’t exactly have time to worry about them with Darren trying to threaten me and half the workplace trying to defend his honor by tripping me and calling me names.”
“I heard someone confronted you in the building’s cafeteria.” Lucas’s lips are curved in a faint half smile. “And I heard you called that woman a dried up golem or a fried bat.”
I chuckled, wryly. “Venia. She’s in marketing. She saw me and said loudly that if I didn’t want to get rid of the baby weight, I should at least try not to wear fitted clothes.” I didn’t feel the insult, though. I’ve been trying to force myself out of this mindset and spend at least ten minutes a day telling myself positive things about my body. It’s something I saw on the internet. I found it surprisingly effective.
Venia’s words did sting a little bit but if I let them walk over me even once, they’d never stop, so I’d held my head up high and bitten back.
