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Well, I trusted Lila.
Right?
I know I trust Idaline, but that doesn’t make the paranoia go away. Seeing her fists sends me flashbacking to another pair of fists my body got too familiar with.
“FC, are you listening to me?” Idaline snaps.
Blinking, I find her walking closer to me. “Sorry,” I mumble, turning toward the table. “Flare-up. Give me a second.”
She immediately backs down. Any time I say I’m having a flare-up, she knows a blast from my past has distracted me, sucking me into its black hole, and threatens our existence. Idaline slowly returns to the table and sits.
“FC, can I point a few things out to you?”
I lift my head to meet her gaze and she takes that as a yes.
“You don’t really talk about everything that goes on when it comes to you and your past, which is fine. I don’t mind. But I’m not Lila. You know I’m not. You know that because you let me have a relationship with Sawyer. I wouldn’t be in his life if you had an ounce of serious doubt that I would turn out to be anything like her. You wouldn’t want me around your family and you would distance yourself from me. I don’t understand what’s happening, FC.”
The despair and concern in her voice kills me. “Me either,” I reply honestly. “I’m fine and then you do one little thing that reminds me of her and I get a rush of flashbacks and paranoia that I’ll be in that same situation.”
Idaline takes my hand in hers. “Then you need to stop the cycle. When I do whatever it is, remind yourself of who I am, of the facts, and do your best to stay in the present. Maybe tell me what it is I’m doing that is a trigger for you and I can try not to do it anymore.”
“I’ll work on it some more,” I promise.
She smiles half-heartedly. “Good. Hand me some of that bacon.”
And just like that, the serious tone is gone and we’re back to normal. She critiques the food I’ve prepared as if she’s some fair food expert, which she probably could be. Maybe she’ll be happy when she discovers I’ve bought some board games suitable for two peop
le. It’s not fair games, but it’s something else for us to do and have fun with.
“Sawyer will start daycare soon,” I blurt out. Idaline’s eyes fly to mine. “I shouldn’t ask my parents and Nana to keep watching him every day. The main reason I was always so hesitant was because, though the chances were slim, I was worried about Lila somehow kidnapping him. It’s time now, though. I think it’ll be good for him to be around other kids more and good for my family to free up their days again.”
“Have you found one you like?” she asks. At least she doesn’t ask if I’m nervous. Because I am.
“Mom has been putting together a list of some. She’s gone and looked and talked to them, but I’m taking a day off next week to check them out myself and then see what I have to do about getting him in and if it’ll be awhile. There can be waitlists sometimes.”
“That’s good. Do you want me to go with you?”
I smile. “You can if you want, but you don’t have to take off to go. You can always take off work for when it’s his first day. I’m sure I’ll need someone to go with me for that.”
Idaline laughs. “That little boy sure has done a number on you.”
I smile, thinking of all that’s changed since he entered my life. “Yeah, he’s messing with my manhood.”
Idaline shakes her head. “He’s made you more of a man, FC,” she replies seriously. “The way you care for him and worry for him and how your emotions are so easily affected because of him? That makes you more of a man than if you were stoic and emotionless.”
She might have a point. I don’t care either way. My son is more important than my perceived manhood.
She leans back in her seat and rubs her stomach. “I’m stuffed. What’s next?”
“Board games.”
“Not yet,” she says with a shrug. “Let’s watch a movie. And maybe sex after that. Then board games.” She smiles, and I laugh. She has a good plan. That’s exactly what we do, too.
Later, when we’re lying in bed together, Idaline asks for a secret. Will we ever reach a point where we won’t have any more secrets to share? In a way, I hope not. That’s a part of who we are and it seems like a tradition of sorts.
“I wouldn’t change anything about us or how we finally got together, even though it hasn’t gone as smoothly as I would’ve liked. What’s yours?”
Her mouth opens, but she hesitates and closes it. I nudge her chin in encouragement. “Not that I’m not completely happy with how we are now, but I miss how we used write to each other.”
