Page 63 of Ten Years and Then…
Daniel looked down. It felt less like leaving the nest and more like jumping out when he didn’t know if he could fly or not.
But Mom believed he could.
He hugged her. “I’ll miss you if—it’s not a sure thing, but I think they really want me. If it happens, I’ll miss you and Dad. And even Lisa.”
Now she laughed. “She’ll miss you too, even if she’d sooner die than say it out loud.” Mom sighed, and the sadness was back in her voice. “And the other thing—you didn’t say it, but I can see it. You’re still aching for her, and I hate that for you. But—this is from experience, Daniel—there is life after your first love. You know I didn’t marry your father until I was twenty-five. Did you ever give that any thought?”
No, he hadn’t. Who thought about their parents’ love lives?
“Mom, I don’t know what you mean.”
His mother shook her head. “Yes, you do. I had a first love, too.” She hesitated for a moment, probably lost in memories. “He wanted different things. Or maybe I did. All I know for sure is, it broke my heart. And afterwards, I thought about him for months. I ached, just like you do for Nora. But I had a good friend who was honest even when I didn’t want her to be, and—well, after far too long, I listened to her advice, and I put myself back out there even when I didn’t really feel like it.”
“And that’s when you met Dad?”
Now she smiled. “That’s when I had two years of terrible first dates, and maybe one second date. And then I met your father.”
Nora, November 22
This was the first home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner Nora had had in at least a decade.
There had been plenty of love in the kitchen, and laughter as she and Dad and Aunt Rachel did their best to make turkey, gravy, stuffing and glazed carrots. Sadly, the end result on Rachel’s little dinette table looked bad and tasted worse.
“I hate to say it, but I think we have to call this a failure,” Dad said after he’d taken two bites of each dish.
“Yeah,” Rachel agreed. “I think if Mom was around to taste this, she would have disowned us.”
She knew Dad had lived at home for a while after college, but it was still strange to imagine him and Rachel under the same roof. She’d only have been a toddler then—how much could they remember together?
Regardless, she thought their mother—her grandmother—would have been thrilled they cooked Thanksgiving dinner together, no matter how bad it turned out. And it really had. Nora could only stomach one small piece of turkey, and that had been an effort.
“Let’s go out. We can have dessert somewhere nice, where we don’t have to clean up after ourselves,” her father said.
“No!” Nora surprised herself. “I mean—I like it here, the three of us. It’s really nice. Can we sit a little longer? I like feeling like a family.” Where had that come from? It was true, she just hadn’t thought about it that way.
Both Rachel and her father stared at her. “Of course, Pumpkin,” Dad said. “But you should always feel like family.” He looked down, sighed. “Maybe you wouldn’t have to say it if I did a better job of making you feel that way. But you are. I love you, and you know Rachel loves you. And—your mother, too.”
Nora knew that. She even felt it most of the time. But it was never like this, getting together on a holiday, doing the traditional things, being silly with each other.
“I think it hit me when you threw the flour at Rachel. That’s what families do, right? They can be as stupid and goofy as they want with each other.”
Rachel didn’t quite roll her eyes. “So food fights are how families show love?”
No. Yes. “It’s more like, knowing you can throw food at them and they’ll still love you just as much afterwards.” At Christmas two years ago, there hadn’t been any food fights at Daniel’s house. But there had been jokes and awkwardness and people insulting each other one minute and hugging the next, because there wasn’t anything you could do to drive them away. Because family—whether blood or people you chose, like Daniel’s neighbors across the street, or his not-a-cousin he loved more than the rest of them—family wouldn’t abandon you no matter what.
Family, like Daniel should have been.
“Hey, Pumpkin, are you still with us?”
How long had she been lost in thought there? “I’m fine, Dad. Just—just thinking, I guess.”
“You still love that boy, don’t you? Daniel.” She didn’t answer. What was the point? “I’ll tell you a secret. You might not believe it, but one day you’ll see for yourself. You can love him and still move on. Meet someone else. Go on dates. All of it.”
She knew that. She even almost believed it. But she didn’t know if her heart would let her do it.
Chapter 20
January 1991—Providence, RI/Bronx, NY/Albion College
