Page 15 of For Now

“What did you bring for breakfast?” I was admittedly a little hungry at the mention of it, which was surprising considering my usual lack ofappetite.

“I’m only willing to tell you if you let me in,” hesaid.

I realized I hadn’t even invited him in. He was standing on the porch, holding large bags the entiretime.

“Ah, sorry, come onin.”

I opened the door the rest of the way, and he made his way into the kitchen. He sat the bags on the counter, and I sat across from him on a barstool. He started taking things out of the bags. Eggs, bacon, a loaf of French bread, cinnamon, strawberries, milk, and orange juice all sat on the counter. I looked up at him with curiouseyes.

“I’m going to make you French toast. Would you like some coffee while I’m cooking?” heasked.

“God, yes.” I sounded like I was begging. He pulled two covered coffees from the lastbag.

“You struck me as someone who likes caramel, so I got you a caramel coffee with skim milk,” he said, looking at me forapproval.

I nodded and took it from his hand. It wasn’t black and therefore it would be delicious. I took a sip and instantly lovedit.

He made himself comfortable in my kitchen, opening various cabinets and drawers, finding what he needed. I watched him closely as he cracked eggs, started a pan for the bacon, and then added cinnamon to the egg batter. He moved back and forth pretty effortlessly, and I could tell this was something heenjoyed.

“What’s your favorite breakfast?” heasked.

“Well, lately, not much. But I really do love French toast,” I said. And I did. It was probably my favorite before pancakes orwaffles.

“Why haven’t you had much of an appetite?” heasked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I guess I’m the type that when I go through something hard or sad, I just don’t eat all that much.” I shrugged. I could see by the look on his face he was thinking hard aboutthat.

“Where is Mason?” Iasked.

“He’s with his grandparents this weekend. He visits them a few times a month to help give me a little bit of a break and to spend time withthem.”

“Well, that’s nice. I’m sure you do need a break now and then doing it byyourself.”

“Yeah, I do. But really, I don’t mind it. I always wanted to be adad.”

I wrapped my arms around my stomach and nodded. These were the conversations that hurt the most. I couldn’t manage to hear anyone speak about babies or parenthood without feeling a sadness wash overme.

“Did you ever think about having kids? Like in your marriage or in general?” heasked.

Here it was. The conversation I avoided at all costs. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I never really knew how much to say about it and always stumbled throughit.

“We did, yes. I had a miscarriage late in my pregnancy. We tried after but wecouldn’t…”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, eyes dark and fixed onme.

“It’s okay.” He didn’t need to know the rest. I didn’t want him to know therest.

He sliced French bread and dipped it into the beaten eggs. Then he sliced the strawberries. I sipped my coffee and we fell into a familiarsilence.

* * *

Islumpedover in my chair, so full I didn’t want to move. The man could cook, I would give himthat.

“Okay, now go get dressed!” Samuelsaid.

“Um, where are we going?” Iasked.

“Yeah, I can’t tell youthat.”

---