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Marissa scoops out a handful of pickles and stuffs her mouth. “Mmm,” she moans. “I swear I don’t even like pickles that much. But the little cucumber loves them.”
Once dinner is over, Marissa nudges my knee under the table, angling her head toward Nora, and I take that as my cue.
“Nora Bora,” I say. “Marissa and I would like to tell you something.”
“What is it, Daddy? You’re finally back together? Is Marissa moving in with us?”
Out of my control, the tips of my ears turn red. “No, sweetie, not that.”
“Oh.” Nora pulls a sad face, and I do my best not to look at Marissa.
I’ve no idea what she’s thinking right now, but I don’t want to pressure her. I’m also scared of searching her eyes only to find her answer to Nora’s questions is still: never going to happen.
“Enough with the sad face,” I say. “It’s good news.”
“What good news?”
“Yesterday, Marissa and I went to a doctor’s appointment and we discovered the gender of the baby. Would you like to know?”
“Yes!” Nora squeals. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Marissa stands up. “Wait.”
She comes back a moment later with three gender-reveal confetti cannons and hands Nora and me one each, then she winks at my daughter. “On the count of three…”
We start the countdown. “One… two… three…”
An explosion of blue confetti fills the kitchen.
“It’s a boy!” Nora screams, throwing her hands in the air. She stands up from her seat and throws her arms around me.
Marissa joins the group hug and kisses the top of her head.
“I’m going to have a brother!” Nora yells.
Marissa claps excitedly while Nora runs to the living room to call my parents who, after way too many excited squeals and screams, wish us the best of luck and tell Nora how much they’re looking forward to their fourth grandchild.
Then Nora and Marissa sit on the couch in their usual positions. Nora takes out a book—a manly one, as per her own declaration—and begins reading to Marissa’s belly.
My heart squeezes. What I would give for us to become a real family. Not to be together on borrowed time—until it gets too late and Nora and I will have to leave.
I want to tell myself that things are looking up, but it’s been two months since the kissing ban, and Marissa still has given no indication she wants more.
I should be happy about the progress, but I can’t help feeling that it’s not enough, that I need more. Only, I don’t know what else to do.
While they read, I tidy up the kitchen. When I come back into the living room, Marissa and Nora are asleep on the couch. Nora has curled herself around Marissa’s belly, her head resting on Marissa’s lap.
I snap a picture of them.
The soft click of the camera is enough to wake Marissa. She looks at me and then at Nora sleeping in her arms.
“You can wake her,” I whisper. “We’ll go.”
Marissa shakes her head. “Let her sleep. She can stay with me tonight. You can bring her a change of clothes in the morning before school.”
“Are you sure that’s okay with you?”
“Yeah. Could you just carry her upstairs? She can sleep in my bed.”
