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“For this? I have about as much time as you need. Lay it on me, and don’t hold back.” I get comfortable, ready to soak in as much about Brazen as I can. Who better to hear from to really see who he is than his mom?
“One time, when Brazen and Sunday were about eight, he convinced her that she could fly if she rollerbladed down the slide of the playground in our neighborhood. He helped her get an accelerated start and then watched as she coasted down at an outrageous speed. When she got to the end of the slide, she hit the ground so hard, she broke her arm.”
“Oh no!” I glance toward Sunday, feeling sympathy but also trying to hold in my laughter.
She must have really trusted him to believe that story. That is, until she hit the ground.
“Later, when I asked him where he had gotten this idea from, he said a boy at school had told him, but he didn’t believe it. So, he wanted Sunday to be his gerbil.” Beth beams with love as she talks about them.
Brazen and Sunday both laugh at the old story I’m sure they have heard a hundred times.
“Gerbil?” What does the little rodent have to do with anything? Gerbils can’t fly either.
“He meant, guinea pig,” Beth clarifies.
The banter continues, and Brazen takes it well. He sits back while the two women in his life playfully throw him under the bus. He takes it all in stride, and I enjoy every minute of it. There is a whole lot of love between them.
A bit of sadness pulls at my heartstrings. I don’t have people like this in my life to share old memories with. Not that many of my memories are good ones, but that isn’t the point. I’m happy that Brazen does, so I quickly push the envy away.
“Thank you for humoring your lonely mom. You kids need to come over for dinner soon. I’ve missed you, and, Noah, I’ll be expecting you, too,” Beth says as she gives hugs before she leaves.
“Of course. Thank you. It was so great meeting you,” I say in my most polite voice.
Brazen wraps his arms around me as his mom leaves. Once the door closes behind her, I playfully elbow him in the side.
“Ouch. What was that for?” He feigns an injury.
“Oh, you deserve much worse than that tiny jab, Brazen.” Sunday laughs. “If I were Noah and you’d just kissed me in front of your mother when she had no idea about me, you’d have been rubbing a lump over your head.”
“Wasn’t I punished enough with that whole walk down memory lane?”
“I’m out. I’m going to look at that place on Fourth Street. You two behave.” Sunday rushes out the door before either of us has time to say bye, and for the first time today, I’m alone with Brazen.
“Hi,” he says while moving closer.
“Hi,” I say back.
“I missed you.” He takes me into his arms and kisses the top of my head.
“Is it crazy that I missed you, too, and it’s only been about twelve hours?”
“Well, I don’t find it crazy, but that might be because we’re in the same boat.”
He pulls back, and his lips hover over mine for just a second before he kisses me. This kiss is nothing like the affectionate one he gave me in front of his mother. It’s the kind of kiss that curls your toes and causes the hair on your neck to rise. His tongue breaches my mouth, and his soft lips caress mine. I’m light on my feet when he pulls back.
“I’ll be right back.” Brazen leaves the office but returns in about a minute.
I know what he went to get because I can see it in his hand.
“I’m selfish, so I’m keeping this, but we were so caught up last night that we left this behind at the center. I went back this morning to pick it up.”
The painting. The one he did of me last night.
He holds it up, and I fight the tears threatening to leak from my eyes.
“It’s amazing.” I touch the dried paint.
I look so incredibly vulnerable, unrestrained, and unburdened.
