Page 73 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind
“You bring people joy every day when you sell them books, Heidi,” she goes on. “You feed them wonderful food and give them a place to imagine and learn and grow as they read. What is that if not your calling?”
I clamp my hand over my mouth so that she can’t hear me crying—so that she doesn’t hear my hungry breath and my broken voice, the tears coursing over my skin as something deeply broken in my soul begins to feel warm at her words.
Jagged pieces of myself, parts of me that no longer work, scarred tissue and a scarred heart. That incredible function of a woman’s body, the ability to bear children—something I always dreamed of, and something I will probably never achieve.
“You are fiercely loyal, sweetheart,” my mother continues, “and loving and kind andgood.I cannot change your body,” she says, her voice breaking, “but I can absolutely, unequivocally promise you thatwho you arehas never changed. You were always meant to be Heidi. Before a woman is ever meant to be someone’s wife or someone’s mother or anything else, she is meant to beherself. That is where we anchor ourselves. We can add the rest on, but they’re not where we begin. You are yourself first and foremost.”
I hold the phone away from my face, pulling in deep, gasping breaths, swiping at my cheeks, feeling little bits of fuzz that the tears have cemented to my skin. I keep breathing, in and out, in and out, until I’ve regained control. Then I bring the phone back to my ear.
“Thanks, Mama,” I say, trying to keep my voice normal.
“I wish I could give you a hug, baby,” she says.
“Me too,” I say. “But I’m okay.” I take another shuddering breath.
“If you’d really like children in the future,” she says, “I would be willing to let you adopt Eric.”
And maybe it’s my shaky emotions, but I burst out laughing.
“He’s fully potty trained,” she goes on, and I continue to laugh.
“I’ll let you know,” I say, wiping a few stray tears of laughter from my eyes. “I love you, Mama.”
“I love you too, sweetie. Get some sleep, okay?”
I nod, tell her I love her one more time, and then hang up. I’m drifting off to sleep when there’s a knock at my door.
“Hey,” Eric says when I answer, his eyes soft as he looks at me. “I came to deliver a hug.”
I open the door a bit wider, and he steps inside, gathering me into his arms.
We fall asleep curled up next to each other on my bed, the way we used to when we were kids.
18
IN WHICH SOREN LETS HEIDI EXPLORE
I’ve been to the hot springs out here before, but they never cease to amaze me.
Which is a strange thing to say, maybe. They give off that infamous rotten egg smell from the sulfur, and they’re not much to look at, either. Lots of rocks with little pockets of water here and there. It’s beautiful in its own way, I suppose, but it probably won’t win any awards for most photogenic.
What amazes me is the heat.
I’m a bath guy. I usually keep this on the downlow, because people don’t expect a man who looks like me to take baths, and my bathing habits are nobody else’s business anyway. But I love taking baths. You sit in a vat of steaming water with sweet-smelling bubbles and relax. What’s not to like?
When I was in college, though, rooming with three other guys in a dorm that offered very little in the way of luxuries, there was no bathtub. We had a cramped shower, and that was it. On top of that, the water heater was spotty, so there were several times that we took nothing but cold showers for days. And while a group of college guys will always have ample need of cold showers…it was pretty miserable.
I don’t consider myself pampered. I don’t think I’m snobbish or finicky about demanding a luxurious life. But I can promise you that I will never, ever,everbe without a bathtub again, and I will take cold showers only when I actively choose to.
Like probably tonight.
Because look. I’m a respectful guy in general. But Heidi Lucy in a swimsuit is causing my mind to short circuit. And the crazy thing is, it’s not even a fancy swimsuit. It’s a black athletic one-piece. No frills, nothing unnecessary—much like Heidi herself. It’s simple, straightforward, and somehow sexy as all get out.
Heidi is beautiful in her own way. She’s not an in-your-face curvaceous bombshell like Gemma; she’s not immediately stunning like Gemma, either. Her beauty is more subtle than that. She’s leaner, with delicate facial features and a smile that reveals itself little by little. And yet as I watch the two of them holding hands and stepping down into the smaller of the natural hot springs, it’s Heidi I can’t tear my eyes away from.
Gemma’s great. She’s fun and, yes, objectively gorgeous.
But she’s no Heidi Lucy.
