Page 91 of Sunflower Persona
“So, Gabe—”
“Gage,” I correct.
“Right. Gage. How old are you, exactly? When Kori said she was bringing home a boyfriend, I was expecting a classmate, not a grown man.”
“I’m thirty-four,” Gage answers, falling into the curt deadpan he uses around strangers.
“I take it you didn’t meet in class, then?” my dad asks.
My head falls back as I stifle a groan. I put my hand on his leg and give it a reassuring squeeze.
“No, sir. I’m not a student.”
“What is it you do, then?”
“I’m a bartender,” Gage tells him, and his shoulders rise as he sinks in his seat.
“And he works at an MMA gym. He’s the head of their kids’ program,” I cut in. I’m not going to let him sell himself short.
“Oh, that’s neat,” Mom says. “So you like children? Do you want some of your own?”
Now it’s my turn to sink in my seat. It’s barely been two months. The topic of kids hasn’t even loomed on the horizon, and now it never will because my mom is going to scare him away by bringing up things that she shouldn’t.
“I love kids. When I was younger, I had dreams of having a large family, but having children isn’t something I want to rush into. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve accepted that it might not be in the cards for me. I’m not going to pin my hopes on something that might never happen.” He glances at me, and the look in his eye isn’t something I can place.
He wants kids? Why didn’t I know he wanted kids?
A wave of panic washes over me. Do I want kids? Fuck, I’m practically still a child myself. If I decide I do want kids, it won’t be for several more years. Will he resent waiting? Am I holding him back?
Gage grabs my hand and gives it a soft squeeze, tearing me from the thought spiral.
A revelation strikes me like a bolt of lightning, clearing away all my fears. I do want to have his kids. Not now, but in a few years, I would love to give him the family he’s always dreamed of. For a moment, the mental image of our future is so clear I’m sure it’s a premonition.
“That’s a wise outlook to have,” my mom says with a thoughtful nod. “And how do you feel about crafts?”
Gage pauses for a moment before a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Depends on the type of crafts.”
“I’ve got a large paint by numbers I could use some help with, but I’ve got a few coloring books floating around here somewhere if that’s more up your alley.”
The rest of dinner passes in the same way—my mom asks Gage a million questions, each unrelated to the last, and Gage indulges her curiosities. My dad doesn’t contribute; he watches with a tight-lipped look on his face. It’s strange; Mom is the more vocal of the two, but Dad isn’t normally one not to engage. I don’t think I like it very much.
“This was great, Mom,” I lie. No one other than Gage took more than a bite from the cursed casserole, and he didn’t merely eat it—he cleaned his plate and got seconds. “We’ve had a long day. I think it’s time I show Gage to his room.”
“Of course. Tomorrow we can give him the tour. I’ll dig out the scrapbooks. Oh, you’ll just love them.” She turns her attention to him. “Kori was the cutest baby with those chubby cheeks and little pigtail puffs on the top of her head.”
I jump out of my chair and try to pull him up with me. This mission is headed toward catastrophic failure; it’s time to abort. He lets me drag him to his feet but doesn’t divert his attention from my mom.
“I’m looking forward to it. Do you need any help cleaning up before we head to bed?”
Ugh.
Curse him and his manners. Why can’t he be, like, thirteen percent more asshole sometimes? I tug at his arm, but he doesn’t budge until Mom shoos him away, ensuring him she can handle it on her own.
I huff as I drag him up to my room. He isn’t allowed to stay in here with me, but I’m not ready to say goodnight yet.
The door swings open, and I’m hit with the comforting scent ofhome. My parents haven’t changed anything. The bed is unmade, covered in a bright pile of blankets and an embarrassing number of plushies, and the walls are still adorned with all my favorite things. They didn’t let me paint them yellow, no matter how much I begged, so I covered every square inchwith posters and art. You could spend five minutes in here and know everything there is to know about me. The only things missing are the clothes I took with me, my PC, and Daisy.
