Page 56 of Taboo
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
AMELIA
The town center buzzes around us, a vibrant pulse in summer evening light. I love the scent of fried dough and caramel corn that perfumes the air. Jason skips ahead, while Max walks beside me. It’s so sweet how he ensures his shoulder brushes mine, his presence a warm anchor in the lively crowd.
I watch Jason with his stuffed toy and a balloon, and that desire fills me up again. Before Max and Jason, I’d never really thought about it, but now, all I can think about is being a mom. I want to carry Max’s child, to hold a piece of him forever—a baby with his blue eyes, and his fierce heart.
Would I be a good mom?
Sara’s strict and structured, and I imagine that it is her rules that are shaping Jason into a quiet boy at home. Maybe it is not necessarily a bad thing, but I do know that with me, he’s different—bubbly and free. I know which version of him I definitely prefer. His joy is like a light that fills me, but is this what is best for him? Maybe her strictness makes her a greatmom and he’ll grow up to be a responsible, serious citizen, and I’m too soft, too unstructured to produce a good citizen. Yet seeing Jason so happy, so alive, makes me believe I could do it, could find the right balance and love a child the way I love him.
“Hey, Daddy!” Jason’s high and excited voice cuts through my thoughts. He bounds over. “Shall we get hot dogs?”
“Why not?” Max says indulgently, and we head to the hot dog stand.
Jason gets one, but I refuse. I’m still full of Peking duck and hoisin sauce rolls and chicken Chow Mein.
I watch Jason clutching his hot dog in his hand. He is about to take a bite when he stops and looks at me. “Do you want a bite?” He holds it out, his kind gray eyes enormous.
I can feel my heart melting as I crouch down to accept his magnanimous offer. “Thank you, little angel.” I take the smallest bite I possibly can. The bun is soft, the ketchup sweet, and the mustard tangy on my tongue. I chew, savoring the moment, and suddenly want one for myself as well.
"This is really good," I say.
"Daddy, do you want a taste too?"
"That’s very generous of you. Thank you, buddy?"
Max lowers himself and takes a bite. I don’t miss the fact that his lips are grazing the same spot mine did. Our eyes meet then, but I immediately look away before things get out of hand. Jason, oblivious to our secret, turns away and begins to wolf down his hot dog.
We are drawn to watch a street performer juggling flaming torches.
Max stands, offering his hand, and I take it. His fingers lace with mine, warm, firm, and it is a secret touch hidden in the crowd. His thumb brushes my knuckles, slow and sweet, and my throat tightens, tears pricking my eyes. Everything is so perfect—his hand in mine, Jason’s laughter, the life we’re pretending to live.
At this point, I truly don’t know how I will stay even one day longer once Sara returns. I don’t know if I will be able to pretend when she’s here that I’m happy she’s back and that I’m happy that she has the life that was supposed to be mine. My lips tremble, fighting back the frustration, and Max notices.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice full of concern.
I nod and work up a smile for him, and we return our attention to the performance. Afterwards we continue walking, but this time around we each have a hold of Jason so he doesn’t get lost in the crowd.
Max, still watching me, asks again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I don’t hide the truth. “It’s the same issue,” I tell him. I don’t want any of this to end, but it’s going to, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m just torturing myself by making all these memories to remember and hold on to. I don’t know how I’m going to move on."
He stiffens and goes silent, and I immediately regret exposing my troubled thoughts to him.
“Ignore me,” I work up a smile. “I’m happy regardless. I’m just worried that maybe I’m too happy. If that makes any sense.”
He looks at me, his blue eyes sad, and I see the same ache, the same fear of losing this. “It does make sense,” he replies. “I completely understand how you feel.”
We continue to walk, wandering through the town center, the lights twinkling, the crowd a lively hum of voices and music. Jason tugs at my arm, his eyes begging.
“Do you want a turn at the ring-toss stand?”
I laugh at his transparent attempt at manipulation. “Yes, I think we should all have a go.”
Max hands him a couple of dollars, and we stand watching as he concentrates on his aim. We’re a family, a perfect, fleeting picture I want to freeze forever. The thought of Max’s child growing quietly in my belly surges again. It’s fierce and it’s downright reckless, but I want to be a mom. I want a child who is mine, one I don’t have to give back. I push the thought down, focusing on Jason’s cheer as he wins a small plastic toy.
