Starting From Scratch (34 page)

made me see that I’d screwed up and needed to fix things

with you.”

“
Cindy
did?”

Elena shrugged. “She likes you. And she’s right: I was

a jerk. I left no room for defense or explanation or

anything from you. I just wanted to protect my son. And

I’m not sorry about that, but I am sorry that I hit you with

both barrels the way I did.”

“Okay. Now. Do I get a chance to clarify a few

things?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?” I teased.

She ran a fingernail up the sole of my foot, tickling

me. “Yes.”

“Okay then.  is is going to sound really stupid—

probably because my brain has gone to mush at this point

—but when I was with Lauren, I was a different person. I

know it wasn’t that long ago, but I was at a different point

in my life. I wasn’t sure of anything except that I wasn’t in

love with her. Yeah, that’s pretty cold. I know it, believe me.

I loved her. She was wonderful, there’s no reason not to

love her. But there was no spark, no passion. Have you ever

tried to tell somebody that? You don’t want to be with

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them because you’re not all that physically attracted to

them after all?”

Elena shook her head.

“Exactly. She didn’t deserve to be hurt like that and I

probably stayed longer than I should have. But when she

started talking about having kids…I just panicked. And I

used that as an out. Which was wrong, I know.”

“So, you wanted kids, just not with her?”

“Well…” I hedged. “at’s not necessarily the truth

either. I mean, look at my childhood.” A bitter laugh

bubbled up out of me. “I’m not exactly the poster child for

normal family dynamics and I’ve always sort of fallen back

on that, used it as a reason to not delve any deeper into my

own psyche.” I sat up and took one of her hands in mine,

tracing her palm with my finger, feeling the delicate bone

structure beneath the smooth skin. I cleared my throat and

forced myself to continue. “But when I fell in love with you

and spent time with you and Max, it made me really,

seriously think about everything I’ve believed to be true

about myself, about being afraid of so many things that

stem from my own situation and you know something? I’m

not afraid any more. I look ahead and I try to see the

future, whether you and Max are there and guess what. You

are. Front and center. And I don’t want it to be any other

way.”

“Really?” She looked so like Max at that moment, her

dark eyes uncertain, her voice small, and I couldn’t help but

smile at her.

“Yes, really. And, you know, it’s probably a good thing

that I’ve now had a taste of what an argument with you is

like, that I should have my strategy planned ahead of time,

since you won’t let me get a word in edgewise.”

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Elena gave a snort of a laugh. “I’m bad like that, aren’t

I?”

“Yes, you are.”

“My mom does the same thing. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” We were quiet for a moment.

en I asked, “So, what do you think? Are you willing to

give this another try with me?”

When she stroked the side of my face, her touch was

so gentle, her eyes wet and so, so loving, that mine welled

up in response.

“Oh,
man
,” I whined. “I don’t want to cry any more

today.”

“It’s okay,” Elena whispered, her face close to mine.

“ey’re happy tears. Happy tears are okay.”

en she kissed me.

Softly.

Tenderly.

Forever.

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EPILOGUE

As I sit here on a Sunday afternoon and watch the

snow whip around outside the window, it’s hard for me to

believe it’s been nearly four years. It’s true what they say.

Time does fly. And even faster when your life is wonderful.

I tuck the sunset-colored afghan my grandmother knit

more tightly around my legs. Straining my eyes, I try to

make out the bare branches of the trees in the backyard. I

can’t tell if it’s actually snowing or if the wind is just

blowing around the stuff already on the ground. Either

way, it’s looking awfully cold. A log in the fireplace pops

loudly and Steve groans and shifts his body more tightly

against my legs, annoyed to have his Sunday afternoon nap

interrupted by anyone or anything other than Max.

Max. He’ll be ten this spring. He’s growing up so fast

and both Elena and I are finding it bittersweet. I’ll never

forget the broken-hearted expression on Elena’s face last

year when he told her he didn’t want her to kiss and hug

him in front of his friends anymore. She took it like a

champ, nodding, telling him, “Sure, no problem.” en she

came home and cried for nearly an hour while I tried to

reassure her that it was all part of the process, that it didn’t

mean he had stopped loving her.

Georgia Beers

He’s such a great kid. Smart, with a wicked sense of

humor. He loves to read, but hates writing. A math whiz,

he shocks me with how easily he zips through his

homework. I finally had to turn that over to his banker

mother because I was embarrassed that it took me longer

to check his assignments than it did for him to complete

them. Numbers hate me. ey love Max.

He still helps me bake. He’ll even make a batch of

chocolate chip cookies himself if he’s feeling the urge. I

think he’s happy with the way things turned out; I think

he’s happy with me in his life. I know I can’t imagine mine

without him. He’s with Cindy this weekend. She’s another

one who’s amazed me over the past few years. I don’t know

exactly what happened, but once Elena and I began talking

about moving in together three years ago, she really

stepped up and began taking her role as Max’s mother

seriously. Now she goes to all his games, comes to parent-

teacher conferences with Elena and me, and takes him all

over the place. He spends at least two weekends a month

with her, sometimes more. She’s turned out to be an

impressive parent, something I never thought I’d see.

Something else I never thought I’d see is me having a

conversation with
my
mother. It took me nearly five

months after Grandma’s funeral before I worked myself up

to contacting Samantha Carter again. Just an e-mail, just a

few rather terse words to test the waters and see how it

felt. Weird, was how it felt.

I had—have—so many emotions wrapped up and

around my image of this woman…the first and foremost,

of course, still being anger. To her credit, she’s never offered

excuses. She’s tried to explain exactly what state she was in

as a twenty year old with a kid. It’s been a long, emotional

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haul trying to decide if it’s even worth it to me to stay in

contact with her. But circumstances change and lately I’ve

been thinking so much of my grandmother and what she

meant to me, and I think it’s softened me a little. I’ll

probably call Samantha tomorrow.

I glance at the TV and an ad with dates for a museum

exhibition downtown. My goddaughter Jaclyn, Josh and

Nina’s girl, will be three years old on one of the dates.

Again, I’m astounded at how time flies. Seems like

yesterday when I was in Nina’s hospital room, holding

Jaclyn for the first time, awed into tearful silence by her

tiny fingers and itty, bitty pink lips. We spend a lot of time

with Josh and Nina now, which is wonderful.

“Honey, I’m home,” Elena calls out from the kitchen, a

smile in her voice. She started using that corny line when

we first bought this house. I love it.

She comes into the living room. I’ve never gotten used

to her beauty; I don’t think I ever will. ere are days when

I have to pinch myself to understand that this isn’t a

dream, that she is really mine. Her hair is still shimmering

from remnants of snowflakes as she hands me a bag of salt

and vinegar potato chips with a flourish.

“I come bearing gifts.”

I snatch them from her like a starving woman. “Oh,

my God, you are the most wonderful, amazing wife ever,

ever, ever.”

One eyebrow arches as she puts her hands on her hips.

“You haven’t moved at all since I left, have you?”

“Hey,” I say with mock indignation and point to my

swollen belly. “I’m making a baby from scratch here. I’m a

little busy.”

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She grins at my standard line and turns to tend to the

fire. “You’ve only got three more weeks to use that excuse,

you know. After that, you’re actually going to have to get

up off your gorgeous ass.”

“Wah, wah, wah,” I say, munching more chips and

running a hand over my tummy.

“I ran into Maddie in the grocery store,” she says. “I

invited them to dinner next week.”

“at’s great,” I tell her.

Maddie has drifted from me a bit over the past year or

two. I’ve noticed that it happens when children are

involved. ere seems to be a rather distinct line in the gay

community between those with children or who want to

have children and those without children who don’t want

to have them. Most of our friends now are people with

kids, like Josh and Nina. We have more in common with

them and we understand the needs of another family with

children. And once this baby is born, it’ll be even more

pronounced.

I wonder if Maddie knows how much I miss her and

I’m suddenly thankful to Elena for making the effort. I tell

her, “I’ll bake something special for Maddie.”

Elena perches on the edge of the couch next to me

and pulls the afghan down. en she lifts my sweatshirt

and kisses the bare skin, under which grows our baby. “Hi,

Binky,” she whispers. We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl,

so she’s taken to calling it Binky, just to have a name. Her

hand is surprisingly warm as she rubs my tummy.

My heart warms a bit and then my eyes well with tears

—an unfortunate downside to all the hormones running

roughshod through my system. I cry at the drop of a hat

now. It’s a little ridiculous. I sift Elena’s hair through my

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fingers, enjoying the closeness. We chose a donor with

Elena’s characteristics, so I’m thinking (and hoping) her

dominant traits of dark hair and those onyx eyes will win

out over my copper hair and green eyes, but I guess we’ll

see in less than a month.

Less than a month.

God, I can hardly believe it. I feel like I’ve been

pregnant for a hundred years and at the same time, it

seems like it’s been five minutes. I’ll never forget the first

time I felt the baby move inside me. I can’t even begin to

describe it, but that’s the point that I knew, I
knew
, I

wanted nothing more desperately than to be a mother.

at’s also when the paralyzing fear set in.

Because once you feel that baby kick, your whole

world changes and it all becomes real.

I think I’m ready. Well, as ready as somebody can be

for parenthood, which is to say not at all. But it feels right

and I’m ready to have my body back. And I’m ready to let

Elena have my body back, too. All that stuff about

pregnancy making you uncontrollably horny? Yeah, not so

much, at least not in my case. My boobs were so sore, I

didn’t even want her to
look
at them, let alone touch.

Believe me, she’ll be just as happy to have this baby be

born and out of my womb as I will.

e snow is letting up. I continue to play with Elena’s

hair as she hums softly to our child, a warmth fills me from

the inside, and with all my heart I wish my grandmother

were here. Missing her eased up a little bit after some time

passed, but every now and then, I’m filled with such

longing to see her, to talk to her, to ask her if she’s proud of

my choices and the home I’ve made with Elena, that I can

hardly breathe. I want to ask her questions about

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motherhood and I wish from the depths of my soul that

she could hold my baby. A small lump forms in my throat,

as it always does when I’m missing my grandma.

As I’ve said before, I’m not a religious person at all and

I’ve never thought of Grandma in a “better place.” I’ve just

thought of her as gone. But now, as I lie on my couch, with

my baby growing inside me and the love of my life

humming to it quietly, the snow begins to fall in earnest.

It’s not wind-whipped like earlier. Instead, big, fluffy flakes

float to the ground silently and despite my disdain for all

things below thirty degrees, it’s a beautiful, tranquil sight

to behold.

I smile and breathe deeply, completely content, utterly

at peace. And deep down, I wonder if my grandmother

isn’t still looking out for me after all.

THE END

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Books By Georgia Beers

Novels