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Forty-Two

Jade

I’m in my bedroom on Thanksgiving morning. Since there was no school this week, I spent Monday and Tuesday with Henry and Bodhi. We went back to Navy Pier to visit the children’s museum and did some shopping on Michigan Avenue and Watertower since the lights have been turned on. Of course, we went to see the big tree, and Bodhi’s dream is now to have one that big one day.

I scroll through my camera, looking at the pictures Bodhi took that day at the lakefront. A lot of them are just grass, blurs. Some I don’t even know what they are. But I love to see the world through his eyes.

My thumb pauses when I come to a series of pictures of Henry and me.

At first there are ones where I’m smiling, or Henry is staring at me. Others where we’re in a serious conversation. Some I’m just staring at him. Last, Bodhi took one from behind us, the two of us side by side, resting on our hands and looking over our shoulders at him. And then there are ten or so of just me. Me looking at Henry, me looking toward the camera, me looking at the lake.

I haven’t had a lot of time to think about my conversation with Henry the other day. We can’t deny that our relationship is different than most. By agreeing to see where this takes us, we have a responsibility to Bodhi. We aren’t just some couple. We’re Henry and Jade. Some would say soulmates. We’re in it for the long game, and I think we both know that by now.

I pause on the picture I took of Henry and Bodhi. Henry has Bodhi upside down, and he’s tickling him. Bodhi’s mouth is wide open in laughter. I’ve never really felt as right as I do when I’m with them.

All the doubts of the kind of mother I’d be to Bodhi rise to the surface, overriding that feeling of being home. I’d probably get him to school late, unfed and dirty. I’d take him to get pancakes at midnight just for fun. I’m not a checklist person, nor am I a calendar person. Most days, I don’t even know what day of the week it is.

I had a hard time leaving them Tuesday night, and I feel as though yesterday lasted forever. Whatever. I have other things to worry about right now. I still have to tell my mom that I’m leaving tomorrow night without letting her know I’m going to Henry’s away game.

After I look in the mirror one last time to make sure my curls haven’t fallen, I walk downstairs, hearing Mom and Reed in the kitchen. The boys are already sprawled out on the couch watching football in what looks like pajama pants and T-shirts.

“Nice of you to dress up for the holiday,” I say, passing them.

“Sorry, my suit is at the dry cleaner’s,” Waylon says, never removing his gaze from the TV.

Owen piles a handful of chips into his mouth. “Boyfriend coming over?”

“Sneaking out tonight?” I ask, implying that he’d better keep my secret or I’ll tell his.

When I walk into the kitchen, the oven is open, and Reed is basting the turkey.

I slide onto a stool. “Do you need any help?”

“No.” Reed has an apron on. He and my mom have done Thanksgiving every year since Aunt Hannah’s didn’t go well the one year I was at my dad’s place in Los Angeles visiting him. That was probably the last time I spent a holiday with him. “But we have a full house today, so you can probably help out with something closer to dinner.”

“Okay, just let me know what you need.”

He nods, and he and my mom go about doing their thing in the kitchen, ignoring me.

“So…” Why do I feel as if I’m a teenager asking permission to stay out past curfew?

They grant me a second of their attention, looking up from their cookbooks.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow night,” I say.

There, it’s out.

“Okay,” Mom says.

“I mean overnight.”

Both of them look at me at the same time. And here we go.

“Where are you going?” Reed asks.

I worry that he can see right through me. No one wants a prosecuting attorney as their stepparent. “Out of town.”

Mom’s eyes narrow. “Why are you being so… weird?”

I glance toward the living room. I’ve always been so bad at keeping secrets from my parents. “I’m not. I just feel like I should tell you.”

“Well, you’re thirty… are you asking for permission?” Reed’s head tilts.

“No. I’m just telling you.”

“But not telling us where?” Mom asks. “What if I need to get a hold of you?”

“I have my phone.” I hold it up.

Mom puts down her measuring spoon and the spice jar in her hands and stares at me until I’m squirming. It’s her usual parenting go-to in order to figure out what we’re hiding. Panic flares inside me because I’m pretty sure she’s always been successful with her tactic.

“Tell us,” she says.

I look around as if I’m confused. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Owen walks in with an empty bowl that used to have chips in it, then stops because he probably notices Mom’s eyes laser-focused on me. He won’t want to be caught in the crossfire.

“Owen, your sister won’t be home tomorrow night.” It appears she’s just telling him, but really, she’s fishing, thinking we share secrets behind her back.

“Cool. Have fun.” Owen grabs the bag of chips to refill his bowl.

“Save room for dinner,” Reed says.

Mom’s gaze meets mine, questioning if I’m ready to tell her everything. “The other morning, I woke up and there were some puddles by the front door. Do you know anything about that, Owen?” Her eyes never leave mine.

He whips around with his mouth open, glaring at me. I want to say no, no, no, I didn’t tell, but she’s staring at me, and if I say anything, she’ll know the truth. I know she will.

“Jade was kissing Henry outside,” Owen blurts.

Come on. Fourteen-year-olds haven’t figured out their mom’s tricks apparently.

“Really?” Reed asks, seeming surprised.

“The boys snuck out.” I look at Owen. “I didn’t rat you out, she tricked you. So, thanks for that.”

“Damn.” Owen walks over to Mom. “I’m impressed. I didn’t see that one coming at all.”

Mom smiles at her youngest before setting her gaze on me. “So, you were sneaking out too?”

“Is it really sneaking out if I’m thirty?”

“When it’s under our roof, it is.”

I turn to Reed. “Seriously?”

“Don’t go to him, he’s always a softy when it comes to you.” Mom picks up her spice container and measuring spoon again.

“Yeah, I wish I was his stepchild,” Owen says.

We all turn to him, and he shrugs, taking the entire bag of chips to the other room as if he didn’t just blow up my secret to our parents.

“Sometimes I just don’t understand him,” Reed says, lowering his reading glasses back on his nose.

“So, am I to assume that you’re going away with Henry?” Mom asks, concentrating on her measurements.

“Can we not make a big deal of this?” I ask.

Reed quirks an eyebrow at me.

“You know what I mean. And Bodhi doesn’t know, so don’t say anything in front of him, okay?”

They both stop what they’re doing and stare at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Why are you keeping your relationship from Bodhi?” Reed asks.

“We didn’t want the added pressure.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal. But the more time I spend with them, the more the hidden touches and looks and kisses when Bodhi isn’t looking don’t feel exciting, they feel deceitful.

“Pressure? You’re kissing your ex-boyfriend, the one you share a lengthy past with, who happens to have a son, and you don’t want pressure?” Reed asks.

“You know, what if it doesn’t work out?” Just thinking about leaving Henry and Bodhi makes me feel sick.

“If it doesn’t work out?” Mom asks.

“Why are you repeating everything I’m saying?”

They look at one another, shake their heads, and go back to what they were doing.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. Have fun,” Mom says.

The doorbell rings, and I really want to ask for more specifics about what they’re not saying.

“Jade, your boyfriend is here,” Waylon shouts.

I slide off the stool and walk to the front door, smacking Waylon on the back of the head. “Don’t say anything in front of Bodhi.”

Then I open the door. Henry and Bodhi are standing there, but so are Kyleigh, Rowan, Conor, and Tweetie. I had no idea they were coming, but I guess Reed knew, and that’s what he meant by full house.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” I say, opening the door wider.

“We brought pie,” Bodhi holds up a store-bought pumpkin pie.

“It looks delicious,” I say, trying to take it from his hands, but he’s already halfway to Waylon and Owen.

“Bodzilla!” Owen says, holding up his hands. “Want some chips?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Henry says, staring at me. “Happy Thanksgiving, Jade.”

He says it in that sultry voice that makes my knees weak.

“What’s up, Jade?” Tweetie says. “Missed you at the game last night.”

I don’t say anything since I haven’t been asked to go to another one. I’m not even sure I’m attending tomorrow’s game since Henry hasn’t said anything about that specifically.

“Sorry, my dad went to my aunt’s in Boston, and I didn’t want to do the holiday with my mom.” Kyleigh cringes. I can tell there’s a story there, but it doesn’t seem like the time to ask. “You look surprised.”

“I called Reed, it’s fine,” Henry says. So I did assume right.

“Please, everyone is always welcome in this house.” I close the door behind them.

“Conor Nilsen?” Waylon says, sitting up straight.

“Why didn’t anyone tell us?” Owen asks, looking between all the players.

My brothers are probably in their glory.

“Embarrassed that your suit is at the dry cleaner’s now?” I ask, and they both throw a pillow at me. “Come on in. I’ll introduce you to my mom and Reed.”

I walk toward the kitchen, and Henry settles next to me. A million questions plague me, but the primary one is, does he still think I’m going to leave? Is that why he doesn’t want to tell Bodhi? And if that’s the case, have we really moved forward at all?