So Much More(74)

“I like to keep you on your toes, young lady.” His grin tells me that’s true.

“That shouldn’t be a hard question, should it? I mean, most people grow up with dreams. They’re defined and vivid and can be measured. My dreams growing up were survival based for the most part. I dreamed of a nice family to live with. I dreamed of my favorite meals. I dreamed of having a new pair of shoes. The older I get I dream about going to college someday. I dream about finding my birth mother. I dream about figuring out who I am…so I can just be her, you know?”

Benito nods at my words. “I believe you do know…you are her. You’re just too scared to go after the things you really want because you don’t think you deserve them. I’m here to tell you that you do.”

“Addiction is a hard thing to get out from under. It’s shameful. It’s polarizing. It’s defining. Even when it’s behind you, it’s never really behind you. I still feel like my past will always dictate my future. That’s a tough hurdle.” It’s nice to talk to someone I can be this candid with.

“Every day is a new day. It took me years to believe that, Faith, but it’s true. Every day is a new opportunity to be the person you’ve always wanted to be. Some days your heart will be in it, and some days you’ll fake it, but eventually it will become a habit and without thinking about it, you will be changed anew. A new attitude. A new outlook. A new perspective. The human mind is a wonderful thing to grant us that kind of change.” He pauses and smiles. “What else do you dream of, Faith?”

I sip my coffee before I answer because this one is harder to explain. “Love.”

He’s leaned back in his seat. His posture is never lazy, but it’s always relaxed. I think that’s one of the reasons he’s so easy to talk to. “Love. That’s very general. Do you care to expound on that?”

“When I was growing up I just wanted someone to love me.” I shrug. “That’s what every kid wants, right? The past few years that’s changed. I mean, I still want someone to love me, but more than that I want someone to love. I want reciprocation. I want connection. I want to wake up in the morning thinking about him and go to sleep at night doing the same. Not in an obsessive, unhealthy way, but I want to know what it’s like to have so much emotion inside for another person that it manifests itself in selfless, kind, random acts. I want their well-being and happiness to be taken into consideration unconsciously, because it’s second nature. I want attraction, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally, I want to be inexplicably pulled to someone. And for them to feel the same. What an unbelievably beautiful circumstance that would be to be in…” I trail off, because all I can think about is Seamus.

His eyes are thoughtful. He can read between the lines. “What an unbelievably beautiful circumstance to be in indeed. Well put, my dear.”

He stands, which means it’s time for him to leave. Sometimes our time together only lasts minutes. “Thank you, Benito.”

“You’re welcome.” He walks toward the stairs, but stops just short. “Faith?”

I’m still sitting on the couch. “Yeah.”

“I hope he knows what an unbelievably beautiful circumstance he could be in with you.”

I smile, this is Benito giving fatherly advice. “Sometimes life isn’t that easy, Benito.”

“And sometimes, it isn’t that hard.” He disappears with a wink.





Were you sent straight from hell to destroy my life?





present





I’m worshipping at the altar of Pinterest again. Lasagna is the target of my affection. I’ve been stalking it like a sociopath, a carb-loving sociopath, for the past thirty minutes.

I check my watch. Seven o’clock. In the morning. It’s Saturday, and I’m picking up the kids from Seamus’s at eight. Now that I’m in my new house we’ve agreed they’ll spend weekends with me.

I clap my hands. “Hell yes, we’re having homemade lasagna for dinner.” It’s positive reinforcement, mental preparation for the culinary challenge ahead. I grab my keys and purse and march out the door on a mission. The mission includes the grocery store, Seamus’s, and while I’m at it I hijack my cooking talisman, Hope—a little insurance that dinner will be palatable. Hope is a goddamn genius in the kitchen. Everyone has a hidden talent—Hope’s, it turns out, is food.





Everyone and everything gathered, we assemble back at my house for Operation Lasagna.

Rory, Kira, Hope, and I are knee-deep in making noodles using the fancy contraption I bought, when Kai bows out to go outside and ride his bike. “Stay close, Kai,” I yell when I hear the front door open.

“I will, Mom,” he answers.





This is the point at which, in hindsight, I want to stop everything and put it in temporary suspense.

Life.

The Earth spinning on its axis.

Every.

Fucking.

Thing.





I want a do-over.





In my do-over, this is what would’ve happened:

I tell Kai no, he can’t ride his bike. Ever again.

He stays and we all tag team the hell out of building a glorious pan of Italian magnificence.