Page 50 of Of Literature and Lattes
“Life’s not always about what we want.”
Janet leaned back. Her plastic chair squeaked on its metal legs. She wasn’t sure if he was talking about her daughter or about her.
Seth twisted to face her. “I’m at work downtown every day. You can be home within minutes. I can’t cook, I barely clean, and what if she needs help somehow? No woman wants her father that close.”
“You’re not making a compelling case.” Nevertheless, relief flooded her.
“In these past three years, whom have you yearned for most? Besides me, of course.” He flashed a quick grin.
Janet shook her head as the sense of relief evaporated as quickly as it had gathered. Peace and unity with Alyssa had always felt fundamental, more so even than Seth’s forgiveness, more elusive too. To have peace with one’s child felt elemental, as if your own blood ran smooth across the generations. You were whole and tranquil. She felt it now in her relationship with her granddaughter, Rosie. And she knew she was only welcomed into that love because her son and daughter-in-law had invited her there. They trusted her again.
Yes, the “bad” in life bumped down the generations with discord and pain, causing breaks and tumult as well, but it could be healed. It could be made new and, perhaps, made stronger. She thought back to holding Rosie in her lap only days before, pointing at the balloon inGood Night, Gorilla. Yes, healing was possible—and worth sacrifice.
“But if she fights me to the point of not healing, we move her to your apartment.”
“If World War III breaks out on Little Pine Avenue, we will move her.” Seth pulled Janet close again. She could feel his chest move in short silent laughter. “You are so dramatic.”
“Another reason you love me.” The words came out light and unbidden—and she couldn’t snatch them back. She stilled.
In the two short months they’d been back together, Janet had kept a tight rein on her emotions.Do you still love me? Are you happy with me? Are you upset? What have I done?These were the questions from her past. Always asking and pressing, for confirmation, for bolstering, for adoration—more, more, more. She had promised herself on that very first day she sought out Seth to apologize, to really apologize for all that came before and all that had ruined their marriage, and to promise that she would try to never do that again. Any insecurity, any anxiety, any need, she would try—she would try to work to pray—to leave it at God’s feet and not Seth’s. But here, she’d done it.
She pushed against his chest to sit upright. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It is.” He cut off her apology and was looking at her. His eyes were the most alluring shade of green she’d seen. “It is one of the reasons I love you so much. Your drama brings color, a little dark sometimes, but color, to my life. Lately more color than I imagined could exist in this world, and I’d miss it if you weren’t right here with me. More than you could possibly know.”
Janet swallowed.
“Will you marry me, J?”
“What?” The word drifted out on her exhalation.
“Marry me.” He looked past her and chuckled. “Not the most romantic location, I’ll grant you, but a good one. Right in the mess of our lives.”
Janet searched his eyes. They were a softer green now. They did that, changed with emotion. She was reminded how she’d taken this color and this look for granted, only recognizing its absence when she was met with three years of the hard emerald of betrayal and anger.
He clasped her hands and continued without waiting for her to speak. She wasn’t sure she could speak anyway.
“When I imagined this moment, I thought about getting down on one knee, but this floor is a little hard. I might not get back up again. Besides, we’ve been down this road before, and this isn’t a new beginning; it’s a continuation of our story. We had a hiccup and we got rolled, but we’re recovering. Together. So I’m thinking you, me, a pastor, and July fourteenth.”
“Our anniversary? That’s in three weeks.”
“I don’t want a new one.”
“I... I don’t know...”
“What don’t you know?”
Janet studied his eyes more closely and recalled the different shade each emotion brought, and the different shades of emotion she’d brought to their marriage over the years. To be discontented, chafed, irritated, annoyed, she suspected, had been as indelible within her disposition as the changing of colors was within his eyes.
She pulled her hand away and laid her palm against his face. “What if I screw it up again?”
He covered her hand with his own. “I’m present now. We both are.”
“You’re sure?”
A flicker entered his green. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes.” She chastised herself for having needed—again—that extra beat of reassurance. She had been sure, certain, thankful, overjoyed in the moment he’d asked, and yet still she had required more. No more, she thought to herself. Trust. Leap.
