Mine Would Be You (42)

And I mean that, deeply. I may be unsure of what to do next, but we’re friends now, at least in my mind. I want to be there for him.

He smiles, one of his dimples even appearing. “Thank you, Nina.”

I nod, and we fall into a comfortable silence. My eyes flicker around the room, landing on a picture that I haven’t seen before on his nightstand.

I reach up and pick it up, confusion flooding my brain.

It’s a young Jackson, maybe ten or eleven, and two other kids who look nothing like him. One is clearly Hispanic, brown skin and deep hair, maybe a little younger than Jackson, and the other looks like the parents. She’s got slightly lighter brown skin and kinky curly hair on top of her head. Jackson is holding her in his arms with a big smile as she tugs on his blond curls. The woman, who I assume is his mom, is smiling big, her arm wrapped around her husband, her white smile a contrast to her smooth dark brown skin. Even through the picture, I can see where he gets his energy from. She’s warm and inviting and looks like she loves giving big hugs. His dad, who has light brown hair and fair skin, is watching her in the picture with a big smile on his face.

Even though I’m pretty sure it’s obvious, I look up at him. “Is this your family?”

Jackson turns and smiles when he sees the picture I’m looking at. He pauses from packing, which is him neatly folding everything and then undoing all the work and tossing it haphazardly in the bag, and grabs the picture, taking a seat in front of me on the bed.

“Fun fact, I’m adopted,” he says and purses his lips in a pose. I smile as I lean into his seated frame. “This is my mom Lula and my dad Michael. The best things to ever happen to me.”

My heartbeat picks up as I see the joy spread over his face. Because I know it’s genuine.

“After fostering me for a year, they finally accepted I was the greatest five-year-old ever and adopted me. And this one, Mateo,” he points to the little boy, “came along when I was nine, I think. They fostered him for a year and then did the same thing.”

I take a sip of the coffee I brought up with me and wait for him to go on.

“This is my parents’ only biological child, Veah. She was a surprise to say the least. They weren’t supposed to be able to have kids, hence the fostering, but one day my mom was pregnant.”

He smiles, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t tell Veah this, but I’m still my mom’s favorite.

I roll my eyes. “How old are they now?”

“Mateo is three almost four years younger than me, so he’s your age, I think, twenty-three? Veah is twenty, about to be twenty-one.” He pauses, blue eyes flicking from me to the photo. “Jesus I’m old.”

I can’t help the loud laugh that escapes me because he looks mortified about his age, which is about to increase. “You’re not old. You’re only gonna be twenty-seven,” I say and pat his cheek.

Jackson lays flat on his back on the cushy bed, covering his eyes with his arm. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“Drama king,” I say playfully, and he just pushes his thigh against mine in response. Underneath his arm, his lips curl into a smile.

Sometimes I swear he should be an actor; I take the picture from his hand and place my coffee on the table. “My mom would go crazy for your parents. She’s a social worker and gets super attached to families when they end up adopting. Especially the ones that keep in touch.”

“She sounds amazing.” Jackson smiles before sighing gently. “I miss my parents.”

A tiny wave of sadness washes over me as I watch him lie there. His hands are behind his head, and his eyes are focused on the ceiling.

“I talk to Mateo and Veah all the time, but my parents are always busy, so we miss each other’s calls a lot. It’s stupid but I always miss them this time of year. Labor Day was always a big day because I got adopted right before. So, it was always my holiday, and both mom and dad made it feel like that. Mom made me my own sweet tea and dad always took me to a movie that night.” He glances over at me, those blue eyes shining. “I’d be lost without them, for sure.”

“Is it hard to visit during Labor Day? Are they all still in Georgia?”

“Yup, same town, Peachtree Hills, Georgia. Same neighborhood, same house. Mateo and Veah both live in the city, only a quick drive away. Yeah, the beginning of September never fails to be busy work wise. If I have time, I usually come here. I visit other times, holidays and usually their birthdays, but it’s just different.”

I pause. I don’t want him to think I’m pitying him. He doesn’t seem like the type to enjoy being pitied, especially because he’s built such a life for himself, but I also don’t want to push pass the reality of it.

“They sound great. They all do. I’d be sad too if I couldn’t visit as often,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“I think I’m gonna try to fly them up in the fall. But we’ll see.”

I nod. “Well, there’s no sweet tea that I’m aware of, but my parents go all out for Labor Day. You should come.” I poke his laid-out frame. “I’d like it if you came.”

My body warms as my heart pumps a little quicker. It’s a simple invitation, but nerves dance over my skin, nonetheless. He turns onto his side and leans up on his arm, a few stray hairs curling over the top of his forehead. Despite my reservations still churning in my stomach, the invitation feels right. Just like that, any sign of sadness is gone, at least on the surface.