Page 121 of The Fix-Up
“Okay.” Oliver took a bite out of the middle of his cone. Chocolate ice cream dripped down onto his hand and landed on his red shorts. He seemed totally oblivious to it.
I cringed and handed a napkin to Oliver. “On second thought, I’ll stand.”
Gil’s eyes swung between the chair and me. Before I knew it, he had his hands around my waist and the next second, I was sitting on his lap.
“Someone might see us,” I whispered. But by looking around the parlor, I didn’t recognize anyone except for the two teenagers behind the counter and they weren’t paying us any attention.
“It’s only for a few minutes, right?” He had his arms wrapped around my waist, not too tight but in a way that made me feel like he wouldn’t ever drop me.
“I guess.” After a minute or two, I relaxed and leaned back into him. I could feel every breath he took, steady and true. “Thanks for sending me updates.”
“We’ve had a great time. I was worried this would be too much for him.” I knew he meant Mikey. “But it seems to help that Oliver is around. Makes him a little braver.”
I watched the two of them as they raced to see who could finish their ice cream first. To no one’s surprise (except Oliver), Mikey won. He pumped a fist in victory.
“They’re pretty cute together,” I said. This could be what our life was like if Gil and Mikey lived in Two Harts. They were a package deal; just like Oliver and I were. I shoved the thought away before it took hold. “I have thirty minutes before I need to be back for clean-up, so what are we doing next?”
Oliver and Mikey looked at each other. “Balloon animals!”
FIFTY-TWO
[Love is…] your family.
—MARSHALL, AGE 6
That night, we found a piece of grass on the high school soccer field and spread out a blanket. All four of us piled on with bottles of water and a tub of kettle corn Mikey had begged for. After much debate, Mikey and Oliver had agreed to get matching balloon swords and were, at this very moment, off to the side, engaged in a battle. Whenever he was “injured,” Mikey would drop to the ground with theatrical abandon making Oliver laugh so hard, he’d end up on the ground, too. I snapped a photo of that.
At one end of the field, a portable platform had been erected where a local rockabilly band played. It was almost nine. I was exhausted and had never been gladder that tomorrow was Sunday, and I could sleep in. I slipped off my shoes and socks and groaned. Reclining on my elbows, I stretched my feet out, twisting and turning them. Gil moved down the blanket and before I realized what he was doing, he had one of my feet in hislap and was pressing firmly into the bottom of my foot with his thumbs. I gasped and my eyes rolled back.
“Too hard?” he asked, watching my face closely.
I shook my head and dropped my head back. It did border on painful but the best kind of pain. “Never, ever stop.”
He chuckled, low and deep, and I felt it in my stomach.
“Why are you so nice to me?” I asked jokingly. But I realized I was genuinely curious.
His magic fingers paused. “Because you deserve it. I don’t think you’ve had enough of it in your life, and it makes me sad.”
My breath caught. I glanced at Mikey and then back at Gil. “You deserve that, too. Looks like both of us take care of someone.”
He made a noncommittal noise and switched feet. For the rest of my impromptu foot massage, he was quiet, and I wondered if I’d upset him somehow. But there wasn’t much time to think of that once the band wrapped up and Ali stepped up to the microphone. Her speech was short, thank goodness. Oliver was hopped up on sugar and over exhausted. I expected the biggest meltdown ever, or for him to fall dead asleep any time in the next ten minutes.
I started cleaning up the blanket of empty water bottles and wrappers so we could lay down to watch the fireworks, which were up next. So, I wasn’t quite paying attention when Ali got to the part of her speech where she announced the Small Business Owner of the Year. One second, I was crawling around on my hands and knees cleaning up popcorn kernels and the next, the crowd burst into applause.
“Mommy, you won!” Oliver danced over to our blanket, clapping his hands.
“Woo-hoo. Ellie,” someone yelled.
“Ellie! Ellie!” said another.
I sat back on my heels. “What?”
Gil stood and held out a hand. “You won.”
“I…what?” I let him pull me up and realized everyone’s attention was on me. I heard someone behind me yell my name and realized it was Teddy, sitting in a lawn chair with a beer and a smile.
“Come on, Mommy. We gotta go get the award.” Oliver tugged my hand, and I followed him to the front of the field and up the makeshift platform. Somehow, I ended up clutching a shiny plaque with my name etched into it.
