Page 35 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

“The ones in the alley. Why were they kissing?”

Mom set her menu down. “People kiss when they love each other. Like Aladdin and Jasmine.”

Mandy scrunched her eyebrows. “Like you and Daddy?”

“Yes.”

That made sense. Well, kind of. “So, two boys can love each other?”

Mom nodded. “Yes.”

“Can two girls love each other?”

“They can.” Mom nodded again.

Mandy glanced around at all the people in the restaurant, and then at the people walking outside. “Why don’t they hold hands then?”

“They do sometimes,” Mom said. “There’s no wrong way to love someone. Sometimes that means holding hands and kissing, and sometimes it doesn’t.”

Mandy kissed Mom and Dad. And her grandparents would kiss her when she saw them, and she would kiss them back. Mandy held hands with Mom on mommy-daughter date night, and sometimes she and Isa held hands when they played at school, but she didn’t know about wanting to do that with anyone else. So she was glad she didn’t have to if she didn’t want to. “Can I have noodles with butter?” she asked.

“You can have whatever you want,” Mom said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Mandy picked up her crayon. “Will you help me find the pretzel?” she asked. Mom was really good at finding all the things in the hidden picture puzzles.

“Let me figure out what I’m going to eat first, and then I’ll help, okay?”

“I got the baseball bat.” Mandy circled the bat and crossed it off from the list of pictures she was supposed to find.

“Nice job,” Mom said. “Do you think you’ll have room for tiramisu tonight?”

“Uh, yeah.” Mandy always had room for tiramisu.

Chapter Eighteen

January 2015

Mandy had been toa number of art shows, starting with the one she dragged her mother to when she was just thirteen. That had been at a gallery twice the size of Beyond the White Wall, where the artist was already a household name, so the pieces cost as much as a Los Angeles condo—even more. It was no surprise Mom didn’t buy the painting Mandy had loved at that event, although at the time Mandy was extremely disappointed.

Tonight, Mandy’s art wasn’t priced that high, but the turnout was just as overwhelming, as were the number ofSoldsigns popping up on each of her pieces. And now with Isa there, Mandy thought she might’ve been dreaming, or the champagne was doing funny things to her, but the hint of coconut in the air from Isa’s shampoo grounded Mandy in how real this moment was.

Isa had bought Mandy’s painting. And from the markup Aziz put on all the pieces, it wasn’t cheap.Thank youdidn’t seem like the right words, so Mandy had said nothing at all and walked off,opening an empty space in her chest Isa filled for a brief moment. But Mandy couldn’t risk it.

This situation wasn’t as unfamiliar as Mandy wished it could’ve been. She had been here before with Isa, and, well, Mandy was hoping things could be different—better this time. She didnotwant to mess things up again. She’d done that enough already—over and over.

Mandy kept an eye on Isa as she was pulled this way and that to schmooze and rub elbows with just the right people. Maybe there was still a chance she could make things right with Isa—she hadn’t left yet after all.

“Oh, honey.” Mom spun Mandy into a tight hug just as she had finally gotten a moment of calm. “I’m so proud of you.”

Mandy squeezed back.

“It’s quite the turnout,” Dad agreed, and took his opportunity to get a hug when Mom finally let Mandy go.

“Thanks for coming,” Mandy told them. It meant the world to Mandy that her parents were there. They had always been so supportive of her—allowed her time to explore, and learn, and grow, and tonight they finally got to see it wasn’t a waste of time (or money). Not that either of them said that or made Mandy feel that way. She had just heard so many stories, seen too many “disappointed” parents over the years of pursuing her own passion.

“Like we would miss it.” Dad squeezed Mandy’s shoulder. Dad had recently grown his beard out, and if he didn’t already look it before, he looked twice as intimidating with the copious amount of facial hair, but to Mandy he was a big old teddy bear.

Mom and Dad had both dressed for the occasion—even a little overdressed, from an artist’s standpoint. Dad in his black suit and red power tie. Mom was donning a new black dress witha red belt that matched Dad’s tie perfectly. It was like her mother had googled “what to wear to a gallery opening” but then ignored the results and gone along with what matched her extremely particular fashion ideas of what should be worn. Mandy was so lucky. Parents weren’t supposed to be so supportive or so adorable, and yet they were. Still in love with each other so much they dressed alike after thirty-five years of marriage. Mandy could only dream of finding a love as strong as theirs one day.

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