I sit by the doorway so none of the kids see me, but Josie catches my eye and smiles. She reads a couple more books, then says some poem about nighttime and sings a little lullaby—how did I never know she can sing? By the time she’s done, Fiona and Hazel are sleeping on a beanbag chair, Liam is snoring in his baby seat, and Luca, the two-year-old, is curled up in her lap. She rubs his back and sings gently and I swear my chest is about to crack wide open.
My mind comes up with an image of us in a few years. We’re here at Aunt Beth’s, Josie’s still reading stories, but that’s our little boy in her lap.
My heart’s beating fast because I don’t know what’s going to happen next. We’ve never talked about the long term. Hell, we just started acknowledging the past. I mean, yeah, I’ve got a future to offer her. The money’s not great to start, but it’s enough. I may never be one of the biggest stars in the league, but I can hold my own. I’m going to be someone, not just some guy who can’t pass his classes, but a man with a job he loves, a career he’s proud of. I’ve been building a future for myself, and I see Josie in it.
I don’t even know if she wants more kids, since she’s basically already got four of them. But I want a family with her, whatever that looks like.
And that’s when my doubts kick in.
Josie and I will never really be equals. I can’t do what she does. I can’t do what nearly everyone else in this house can do. What everybody at school can do.
I look the same. I sound the same. It’s hard to tell that I’m different. I think I hide it pretty well. But when my future kids ask me to read them a bedtime story, I won’t be able to hide it at all. Sure, I can make it through a book or two, but it won’t sound like it does when Josie reads.
I just hope she understands what my disability truly means because otherwise this future I'm imagining is just a fantasy.
36
Josie
Van’s unusually quiet on our walk back to his house. Something’s bugging him, but I’m not sure what it is. We had a great day. His family is wonderful, and they clearly love him. I’m glad he has that support system. My family may not be traditional these days, but I don’t know what I’d do without them.
He seemed fine after dinner, and when I hugged his mom goodbye, she didn’t seem to notice that her son was out of sorts. My plan was to stay quiet and let him come to me when he’s ready, but his sullen mood hasn’t lifted and he’s barely talking to me.
“So, your cousin Ivy is great. Tommy, too. And the other one…Ivy’s brother?”
“Declan.”
“Yes, he’s very nice, too. We talked about architecture for way longer than I would have thought possible. He just came back from Italy and I’d read a book on Renaissance architecture a few months ago when someone checked it in. We had a good talk.”
Van says nothing. He just unlocks the door and stands back as I pass through. He follows me into his bedroom and starts to undress.
“Mind if I shower first?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Okay, I won’t be long—wait, what?” He turns toward me, his brow pinched.
“Yes, I mind. What is going on? What upset you? I thought we had a really good day and now you’re being all weird and quiet.” My fingers find a hole in the sleeve of my cardigan and begin picking at it. I hate confrontation, but I hate this distance more. “Is it me? We’ve been spending all our time together lately, and now we’re essentially living together for a few days. If you need some space?—”
He stands before me and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I don’t need space, Jos. Promise.”
His words are right, but his face tells me there’s still something going on.“Do you want to talk about what’s bugging you?” I ask, sitting on his bed. He’s in the doorway in just his boxers and while the view is great, I’m more interested in soothing his mind right now than ogling his body.
The ogling will surely come later.
“Nah, I’m good. Just gonna shower then maybe see if I can catch the end of Woodcock’s matchup against Fenwick.”
“Well, I want to talk to you,” I say, proud of the way my voice only shakes a little.
Van pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to keep a headache at bay. “I know, Jos. And I’m sorry for being in a pissy mood. I just don’t feel like talking about what’s going on in my head right now.”
“Can we talk about what’s going on in my head?” Now is probably not the best time to bring up my own worries, but something tells me that if I come clean about what’s bothering me, Van might decide to do the same.
He’s on the bed and sitting next to me in two seconds. “Shit. Of course. Did somebody say something wrong? I had my mom tell everybody that certain topics were off-limits. She didn’t give any specifics or anything, just told the whole crew not to poke around about your life. Did Pap ask you if your dad is a Phillies fan? He grills everybody new about their sports team preferences. But his memory isn’t the best these days. I’m sorry.”
“No,” I assure him. “Nothing like that. And thanks, that was sweet. It’s not a taboo topic, I guess, but it would have been hard to talk about them today.”
“I figured,” he says, threading his fingers through mine and giving them a squeeze. “So, what’s wrong?Jesus. Did Ivy invite you to one of her sex parties?”
