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“What are you two talking about down there?”
“Nothing, sweetie,” John says. “Just asking Marissa if she’s cold.”
“We can make you a hot chocolate at home if you’re cold,” Nora offers.
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” I say. This entire trick or treating stroll is becoming a bit too cozy. Yes, John and I are having a baby, but that’s it. I need to set some boundaries. Even if Nora has no blame in the situation.
We push forward until we get back to our old street.
Nora wiggles to get off her dad’s shoulders and runs up the driveway. Going inside John’s old house instead of my parents’ is the weirdest experience. I walk fast toward the door and hope Mom and Dad are standing far from their windows and not looking out.
The interior of John’s house has the same layout as it used to have, but of course it has been renovated. Nora insists on making hot chocolate, and all my resolutions to keep boundaries in place crumble. I’m definitely going to be the mother of a spoiled brat.
As I sit at the kitchen island sipping the hot drink, I reminisce about the countless afternoons John and I spent here doing homework, sneaking in kisses whenever his parents weren’t around.
When the hot chocolates are consumed, Nora runs up the stairs calling, “Come on, Marissa, I want to show you my room.”
Funnily enough, whatever room she’s staying in, I will already have seen it. Being inside this house again after so much time is mind tripping.
Just like with John and I, everything is the same and yet so different.
John drops his voice again as we enter the hall, Nora waiting for me on the stairs. “You don’t have to stay long. And I’ll call you a cab later to get back home.” He winks again. “Call if you need help.”
32
JOHN
Marissa comes back down the stairs forty-five minutes later, just as I was about to go rescue her.
“Nora is asleep,” she says, her hair ruffled as she walks into the living room.
From the couch where I’m sitting, I turn to look at her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t brush her teeth or make her change clothes,” Marissa continues. “We were reading the spell book, and she snuggled into me and passed out. I put a blanket on her.”
“Kids are prone to such behaviors.”
“Are you sure she’ll be okay with all that makeup on her face?”
“Nora? Yes. The bedsheets, probably not so much.”
I stand up and circle the couch to lean against it from the other side, studying Marissa’s face. She looks frazzled, skittish. Even her soft curls seem less bouncy. And she refuses to meet my eye.
Nora is a lot, but I’m sure a bedtime story and a little unwashed makeup can’t be the causes of all this discomfort.
Look at me, I plead inside my head.
She doesn’t. So, I talk.
“Are unwashed teeth and going to sleep in a Halloween costume the reasons for the long face?”
Her eyes finally lift. Wary but also determined. “No.”
“Was the spell book that bad then?”
She ignores my question and takes a step toward me, eyes big and searching. “What are we even doing here, John?”
“Getting to know each other again. Why?”
