“His wife is gone,” I tell her, heading toward the furniture store. “Can we let this conversation drop?” I say it rather rudely and hurt flashes in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I say quickly.
Her eyes widen and her mouth parts in surprise. “You like him, don’t you?”
“I’m not allowed to like him,” I counter.
Her brows furrow. “Why? Because of Ben?”
“It’s wrong to like someone so soon after he’s gone,” I argue.
“I don’t think so.” She shakes her head. “With Ben, once you guys started hanging out, how long was it before you knew you liked him?”
I look away and my dark hair falls forward to frame my face. “Pretty immediate,” I admit.
“Exactly.” She snaps her fingers together. “I’m not saying you’re in love with the guy, but it’s okay that you like him. Normal even.”
I look at the floor and sigh. Her words make sense but I still feel conflicted. It doesn’t feel right to think that I might one day move on from Ben and love someone else. He was my everything, it doesn’t seem possible that someone else might take on that role someday.
I say no more and head inside the store. It’s an explosion of everything baby. Most of the bedding items are done in pale shades of yellows, greens, blues, pinks, and purples, but I do see the occasional brighter pop of color. I gravitate toward a white crib with tufted gray fabric on the side. It’s soft and pretty, but definitely on the feminine side. I then move over to a bassinet with a ruffled white skirt. I run my fingers over the soft fabric of the bedding and smile, imagining a wiggling baby inside.
“Do you think it’s a boy or girl?” I ask my parents.
“No clue, Kid, but you’ve got a fifty-fifty shot,” my dad jokes.
My mom smiles and shrugs. “I don’t have any guesses yet. Are you going to be surprised or find out the sex?” she asks.
I shrug and move over to another crib, this one black and more modern in style. “I don’t know,” I answer. “I haven’t really thought about it, but I’ll probably find out. I’ll want to decorate the room accordingly.”
“I figured.” She laughs. “Sometimes I think you should’ve been an interior designer instead of an event planner.”
“I would’ve loved it,” I agree. “But I love my job now too, so …” I trail off and pick up a stuffed duck. I set the duck down and take a seat in one of the many gliders. “Oh,” I say, putting my feet up on the ottoman, “this is nice. I could take a nap here.”
My dad laughs. “Me too, Kid. Maybe I’ll find one of my own.”
“Dan—” my mom grabs his arm before he can move away “—if you fall asleep in the store I’m leaving your ass here.”
My dad turns to me. “Marriage summed up in one sentence.”
I laugh and stand. “This is cute for a boy,” I say, pointing to a navy and white bedding set with pops of orange. It’s decorated with cute little giraffes.
“Do you have a theme in mind?” my mom asks.
“Not yet. This is nice too.” I point at a gender-neutral option in shades of beige and gray. “Ooh, and this.” I pick up a pale pink set with little gray stars. Tears well in my eyes, and I inhale a deep breath. “I wish Ben was here.”
“I know,” my mom says, resting her hand on my shoulder. “We all do.”
And then I turn to my left and Ben is here. Not in the physical sense, of course, but he’s here. I move toward the crib, my tears falling freely now as I gaze at the mobile above it. Paper cranes.
I reach up and touch one of the folded white birds. “I want this,” I say. “I’m getting it.” I look around hastily for someone to come help me, like as if someone’s going to snatch the mobile down from the ceiling and run a
way with it.
When my eyes meet my mom’s I see that she has tears in her eyes too. “It’s perfect,” she breathes. “I think you found your nursery theme.”
A clerk must see my desperation because one soon appears. “I want this,” I tell her, pointing at the mobile. I don’t ask her how much it costs or anything like that. It doesn’t matter to me. I have to have it.
“Of course.” She smiles. “Let me check in the back for that. The last time I looked there was only one left and it’s being retired so we won’t get any more.”
“I’ll take the display if I have to,” I tell her, desperation lacing my tone.