An Innocent Thanksgiving

Now, though… I couldn’t be sure. Was she really still that same person, the way that I hoped she was underneath her angry bluster? Or had she changed so much that I could no longer reach her?

“Mama!” Fern ran up. “Mama, push me! Swing me!”

“What do we say?” Maggie replied, still sounding caught up in her reverie.

“Swing me please?” Fern said.

She was fucking adorable. I had never really thought of kids as cute or adorable or whatever. A bit, yeah, in a quick glancing kind of way, but I’d never really stopped and cooed over a kid before and I’d doubted that I ever would. Now here I was thinking that Fern was the cutest damn thing and feeling my heart melt.

Damn it.

I jumped up before Maggie could say anything more. “I’m game, Fern, I’ll push you.”

Fern grinned up at me, looking delighted. “Yay!”

I helped her up onto the swing, starting by pushing her gently and then giving her bigger and bigger pushes until she was swinging up almost as high as the swing could go, shrieking with joy the entire time. It was cracking me up. I wanted to pull out my phone and film her, except that would mean I’d have to stop pushing her.

Maggie was having a hard time with this, and I hated to see her upset. Honestly, I did. Maybe our recent behavior towards each other didn’t show us in our best light, but I wanted her to be happy. I didn’t want to be a source of frustration for her. But I also knew that I couldn’t give in without coming to some agreement about Fern. I already liked her, was falling hard and fast, and I couldn’t wait to know her better.

I pushed Fern on the swing for… God knew how long, I didn’t keep track. Maggie watched us from the bench, a contemplative look on her face that I couldn’t decipher. At last Fern made me stop the swing and hopped off, running over to Maggie and demanding a hug.

Maggie didn’t hesitate for a second, sweeping her daughter up and hugging her tightly. I could see in an instant how close they were. I’d never been close to my parents in that way. Not that my relationship with my parents had been bad or even all that distant. But it hadn’t been this close—in fact I hadn’t seen many parents and kids with this kind of bond, period. It warmed my heart, and my only sadness was that it was the loss of a father, and Maggie’s youth, that had probably created such a fierce and intense relationship between the two of them.

Every time I thought about Maggie having to go it alone, raising Fern and struggling with all the issues that came with having a baby and a child, I felt the heat of shame and frustration licking up my spine again. If only I could turn back time so that I could be there. If only.

But I was here now and I was going to do what I could to make things right.

They made a beautiful picture together, mother and daughter, Maggie with her blonde hair and Fern with her soft brown hair, Fern’s green eyes contrasting Maggie’s hazel ones. It tugged at my heart, and I wasn’t sure who made me weaker—Maggie or Fern.

“I’m hungry,” Fern announced, poking her mother.

“Then we’ll head home and make dinner,” Maggie declared, setting Fern down and taking her hand.

“Can Uncle Cal come?” Fern tugged at Maggie’s hand, then pointed at me, as if Maggie might be confused about who Uncle Cal was.

I smiled and waved at her, trying not to feel too smug that Fern liked me so much already. I felt a little like I was just skating along, seeing as I was just pushing her on the swing and hanging around, but I would happily do that all day, and more, if it got Fern to like me.

Maggie pressed her lips together, a sure sign that she wasn’t pleased. But she sighed and nodded. “Sure, Uncle Cal can come.”

Hey, it wasn’t an all-out victory, but I’d take what I could get.

Fern took my hand while we walked back, swinging our hands between us and chattering at me about her art, about the cloud she saw earlier, about her favorite kind of food, about everything and nothing. She reminded me a bit of Maggie, and it warmed my heart.

Once we got back to the apartment… it was a nice apartment. I liked it. And I could see how Maggie had done a lot of work to make it homey. There were prints of paintings all over the walls, photos of Mark and Violet, Maggie growing up, Fern growing up, Maggie with friends. The furniture all seemed to be secondhand but lovingly and carefully chosen, and the walls were all painted various colors.