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It was lonely. But most of the time, I was too tired to care.
Then one day, several weeks in, something small changed.
“Maria, look.”
I looked up and saw Drew holding Jacob in the crook of his arm. He tickled his tummy with a finger, and Jacob kicked and flailed his arms, a wide gummy smile covering his face. Drew looked up at me and smiled.
I walked over to them both, my heart full, and kissed both of Jacob’s tiny feet.
“Thank you,” Drew said so softly I almost didn’t hear him.
“For what?”
He didn’t answer right away, so I met his gaze.
“For being brave enough to keep them.”
I swallowed and took a deep breath, refusing to let that statement burst through the carefully erected emotional wall I held in place. My hormones were bad enough; the last thing I needed to do was burst out in tears at a simple statement.
But my eyes welled, because my dad’s words came back to me.You should have done the responsible thing and had an abortion.
And that was why I would rather cohabitate with a stranger than crawl home to my dad. It felt like running back to the enemy.
“Thank you,” I whispered back.
“For what?”
“For taking a chance on us.”
I walked away before he could see my crying.
“My parents are coming over on Saturday.”
It was not one of our better evenings. My roast had cooked too long and the meat was dry. The boys would not settle down and cried fitfully in their crib. Laundry was stacked up on the couch in the living room. It was all clean, but I hadn’t had a chance to fold it.
It was Friday night. They were coming overtomorrow?
“Uh… What time?” I asked, hoping I’d have time to at least hide the laundry.
“I told them a little after three in the afternoon. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” That gave me time to tidy up, and maybe get some crackers and cheese and make some sweet tea as a snack. “Are they staying for dinner?”
“I can ask… but I thought we’d take it slow.”He cut off a piece of beef and chewed it silently.
“Okay. What can I expect?”
He peered up at me from his plate, an unspoken question on his face.
“I don’t know anything about your parents. What are they like?”Are they anything like you?
“Uh.” He swallowed and wiped his mouth on the paper napkin. “They’re… nice?”
“You’rereallytalkative, aren’t you, Andrew.”
He shrugged and went back to his roast. “This is good.”
“It’s not, but I appreciate it.”
