Page 19 of With This Wish

Jake shrugs a shoulder. “I’m always thinking of you, Beautiful.” He says it so casually, like him thinking about me is something commonplace, something that happens all the time. That warm, fuzzy sensation that seems to be present whenever I think about or am around Jake spreads from my chest to the rest of my body, even warming the tips of my toes better than any wool socks ever could.

“That’s really sweet of you to say,” I manage to get out. My mind is whirring from all the thoughts and feelings flooding in at once that I’m not sure I won’t burst out an “I love you” at any moment. “I-I think about you all the time too. Just so you know,” I admit. My shoulder shrugs in the same manner his did as I try to play it cool when my feelings for him are anything but casual.

Jake reaches over and grabs my hand, running his thumb over my palm and sending sparks of desire through me. God, even something as little as hand-holding has my engine revving, though I know it isn’t the physical contact so much as the strangely intimate connection we share despite spending such a short amount of time together. “Maya,” he says, his voice low and his gaze intent. “We should talk about the future.”

My mouth opens to agree with him, but JJ interrupts us with an ill-timed appearance at my side. Reminding myself how much I love my son, I turn to look down at him and see a distressed expression on his face. “What is it, baby?”

“Mommy, pee-pee,” he says, squirming in his wet diaper.

“Ah, of course.” Dropping my coffee on the counter, I reach down and pick him up. One thing that will be nice about preschool is that they require potty training, so at least we won’t be dealing in dirty diapers come this time next year. “Let’s get you cleaned up, little man.” My eyes look over at Jake to see him watching us, a small smile on his face. “Want to help?” I offer. Like I said, kids aren’t all sweet kisses and playtime. They’re tantrums and poopy diapers and nighttime wake-ups. Jake needs to see it all, the good and the bad.

Jake’s smile drops slightly, but he recovers nicely and walks over to us. “I’d love to,” he says. The seemingly false cheer elicits a snort from me.

“Love might be a strong word for how much fun dirty diapers are,” I tell him. We walk into the office and I set up the changing pad on the floor. “But I appreciate your enthusiasm.” He’s here and he’s trying. That is more than enough.

Jake chuckles, shaking his head and kneeling next to me. “Maybe I don’t love the diaper part so much as I like being here with you, helping you out.” He finger-combs JJ’s curly hair before I lay him down on the mat. “Spending time with my so—with JJ, means a lot to me,” he says. The sad smile on his face after stumbling over the word “son” has me feeling all kinds of guilty. JJ is his son, and Jake should get to claim him as such. I just need to be a little more certain about things before we go there. The fact that they are father and son won’t change, but I don’t want to start throwing around the “Dada” label if he’s just going to leave.

Needing to comfort him in some small way, I reach over and place my hand on Jake’s thigh, and give it a squeeze. I ignore the fact that it’s all muscle, focusing instead on providing solace and not getting a little groping in myself. “We really should talk about the future.”

He nods and I start changing JJ’s diaper, walking Jake through how to do it while avoiding getting a small spray from a second round, and giving him the honors of walking it to the dumpster in the back of the shop. When he comes back into the office, he has the white paper bag from earlier and he holds it up, a bashful expression on his face as he scratches along his jaw. “I, uh, got a pumpkin muffin for JJ at the coffee shop, but I wasn’t sure if that would be okay with you,” he says, his expression moving from bashful to earnest. “It’s one of their vegan ones. I wasn’t sure if he had any allergies and I didn’t want to risk it. Oh, and I also brought a plastic knife to cut it up so it won’t be a choking hazard.”

Jake’s thoughtfulness and attention to big things like allergies and choking hazards has me smiling at him. I open the tiny desk drawer and pull out a small paper plate, passing it to him and nodding at the table where JJ is sitting with his blocks. “He loves pumpkin muffins. Luckily, no allergies to speak of yet, but too much dairy does tend to upset his stomach and gives him horrible gas. Like, flee the room because it smells like death gas.” I shake my head. Why does it seem that I’m either always talking about gas or poo with everyone nowadays? I need to get out more. “Sorry. That’s probably too much information.”

Jake’s head shakes vehemently from side to side. “There’s no such thing as too much information when it comes to him,” he’s quick to reply. As he starts setting JJ up with his tiny muffin slices, he looks over at me and smiles thoughtfully. “I want to know absolutely everything.”

His words are the perfect reminder of the journals and pictures I’ve been keeping since pregnancy. Standing from the desk and giving a look around the empty store, I decide that now is as good a time as any to go and get them. It’s important to me that Jake gets even that small window into JJ’s past, so I turn to him and hold up a finger. “Are you good with him for a minute? I need to grab something from upstairs.”

Jake’s eyes brighten, no doubt pleased with my trust in him watching our little boy solo. “Absolutely,” he says, placing another muffin piece over to JJ’s plate. “We’re good. Right bud?”

JJ simply stuffs a slice of muffin in his mouth while he plays with his blocks, which is as good a vote of confidence as any you’ll get from him. “Thanks,” I say to Jake, giving a small wave to our son. “Mommy will be back in a minute.” JJ pays me no mind, clearly more invested in the delicious muffin in front of him than anything else. After shooting a small smile at Jake, I rush out the back and up the wooden staircase to the apartment, walking quickly to my bedroom and reach under the bed, grabbing the box containing the two leather-bound journals and picture book I kept for Jake. After another quick journey back downstairs, I slow my approach as I reach the office, smiling when I hear laughter coming from the small room.

“Again, again,” JJ shouts. My head pops around the corner just in time to see Jake put his hand partway over his mouth and blow, creating a loud noise that sounds suspiciously close to a fart. The rumbling sound echoes around the room and JJ claps, giggling his head off. “Again, again.”

Jake laughs along with him, but holds a finger up to his mouth. “Just one more, okay. I’m not sure your mommy would be happy with me making all the fart noises.”

I smile and walk into the room. “As long as they’re coming from the top end and not the bottom, it’s fine with me,” I joke. A laugh bursts from my chest at the sight of Jake looking like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Sorry,” he sputters, but not before making one last tiny farting noise for JJ. “I figured if fake injuries worked on him, pretend flatulence might too.”

With a shrug of my shoulder, I smile at him and sit across from him on the rug. “Looks like you were correct,” I say, placing the box on my lap. My fingers drum across the top nervously as I try to think of the words to accompany the gift. I want Jake to have these memories, but at the same time, it’s a little difficult to part with them. My fingers slide to the sides of the box and grip tightly. These memories are stored in my mind and will be for a very long time, and copies of the pictures exist on our computer, but as I finally pass the box to Jake, I feel a strange sense of loss. The past is difficult to let go of, even knowing that the only way is forward. Instead of thinking about what I’m losing, I try to think about what will be gained from this and focus on that, on the possibilities of a big, bright future for the three of us. I nod for Jake to open the box. “I know it will never be possible for you to know everything, every moment I’ve had with him since the beginning, but I did my best.”

Jake looks puzzled as he removes the lid from the box. The confusion doesn’t leave his face until he opens the cover and starts reading the first page of the first journal. “I found out I’m pregnant today, and I’m so excited. I just wish Jake was here to share it with me,” he reads aloud, looking over at me with shiny eyes. “I miss him, but I know he’ll come back, so this is my way of keeping him close in the meantime.” He swallows thickly and looks over at me from his place on the floor. “You knew I’d come back?”

I shrug a shoulder, not wanting to get too deeply into the feels with JJ in the room. “I had a feeling,” I say, blinking away tears. “I also had a pretty sure bet that if I tossed enough money into that fountain, it might happen.” My joke lightens the mood, but only just.

The corner of Jake’s mouth twitches and he sets the journal aside, picking up the photobook and opening it. “Wow.” The words are whispered reverently as the tips of his fingers brush over the plastic sheets. He gazes at the first couple of pages which are mostly comprised of pictures of me at milestone months in the pregnancy. “You look radiant,” he gushes. He turns to look up at me with an expression I would describe as awestruck, but it seems vain to think that, so I’ll just assume he’s filled with gratitude for my keeping the albums for him. Thinking otherwise could get my hopes up.

“Thank you,” I accept graciously. My fingers reach over to flip the page, taking the focus away from me and onto our son. The first picture is one of JJ as the reddest, grumpiest-looking newborn baby in the world. “He looks like an angry beetroot, but once they cleaned him off, he cheered up some.”

“He’s beautiful,” Jake tells me. “Just like his mother.”

I blush, but bat away the compliment with a wave of my hand. “Please. He is your mini-me and you know it.” I certainly do. Every day I looked at my boy and watched him grow more and more into a carbon copy of his dad. It was wonderful and painful at the same time, but now that Jake is back, the pain has lessened considerably.

Jake shrugs and flips the page. “Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a cute kid and that you, Maya, are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

My breath hitches at his admission. I like to think of myself as a decent-looking person, and when he told me the same thing three years ago, I might have believed it could have been true. Years of grief, lack of sleep, and single mothering, however, has left me looking and feeling tired, washed out. It’s hard not to be a little self-conscious when your body doesn’t look like it used to and you feel like a different person in many ways. “I appreciate that you think that,” I tell him. My body shifts uncomfortably on the rug and my eyes glance away from him so he can’t see how little I think of myself these days.

Jake tucks a finger under my chin and brings my gaze back to his. “I just don’t think it, Maya. I know it.” He brushes his finger across my cheek. “And I’ll tell you every day for the rest of my life so you know it too.”

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