Page 4 of Embers in Our Souls
“You don’t like my popcorn?” I mock gasp.
“M&Ms and popcorn don’t mix,” he protests.
Little does he know, I’ve had this argument all my life with his dad. Part of me loves that his disgust was passed on to him because it’s a constant reminder he lives on in such fundamental ways in this beautiful child.
“Wow. Next you’re going to tell me pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza!” I say as I turn into the drop-off line at the school.
“Yuck, Mom! So gross.” He sticks his tongue out like he’s going to be sick.
I pull up to the row of cars and stop, where I swing to look back to Noah. He’s unbuckling and grabbing his things.
“Noah, baby, have a great day at school. I love you so much, even if you don’t love M&Ms in your popcorn and pineapple on your pizza.” I wink at him.
“Love you, Mama.” He’s already hopping out of the car and joining some friends he sees outside. I wave to his teacher as she ushers him into the kindergarten yard.
I feel my heart squeeze, knowing my heart will live outside my chest for the next few hours while I’m at work. Adopting my brother’s son was the best decision I ever made. Noah is a carbon copy of my brother and in moments like these, I’m reminded of how much I miss Bryce with my whole heart.
It doesn’t matter how much time passes; the ache remains as painful as it was the first night I found out my brother was taken from us all those years ago.
I can still hear the wails from my mother on the other end of the phone when my father called to tell me a drunk driver hit Bryce’s car while he was driving home. Noah was home with a sitter, thank goodness, but Bryce was killed on impact.
The numbness I felt in that moment will stay with me forever. Despite the issues I’ve had with my parents, I pushed them aside in that period of my life to come together for the sake of this child that needed a family. Noah was only eight months old at the time, however, he had to adjust to so many changes that went on within the family structure that had acclimated between us.
Looking back, he adapted so well while all of us were crumbling. I was living in Chicago at the time of my brother’s passing. I was just starting to adapt to life as an adult, thinking independence was going to be this fresh start in the real world, with a career I was truly falling in love with. I was acclimatingto a life without someone I was painfully aching for who left me behind.
Gaining custody of Noah wasn’t something I expected, but I welcomed it because I never wanted him to feel unloved. Unlike the secrecy my parents chose with my own adoption, I'm constantly telling Noah about his father; openly discussing what a hero I saw Bryce as throughout my life. But, Noah’s biological mother leaving him behind shortly after he was born is something I shield him from as much as I can.
Although we started off living in Chicago, we’re now solidified with a life in Boston. We moved here a little over two years ago, after my grandfather branched off a section of his publishing house, opening Medstone Publishing. I’m the editor-in-chief and I’ve never felt more alive in a role as I do with this one.
I always thought once I started working with my grandfather, I would one day see myself publishing my own work. At one point, I envisioned myself as an author, writing a New York Times Bestseller. But after I interned one summer behind the scenes with an editor, I realized this is where my heart was destined to be. I’ve come alive in this role, and this move only brought out more of my creativity.
Before Noah, though, I was lost. My relationship with my parents has gone up and down throughout the years for various reasons, currently on the downshift due to how they handled my gaining custody of their grandson. At this point, I’ve prioritized Noah having a relationship with them, putting my own needs aside.
Since Bryce passed away, our only connection has been focused on Noah and him alone. They continue living in Las Vegas, but they primarily come out to Boston to visit. When possible, I try to fly out to see them, but it’s becoming harder to accommodate that trip.
As the years have passed, I only seem to be more disappointed in the people I’m supposed to care about. The move to Boston was bittersweet. My grandfather confessed he was sick, and when his health took a turn, he put the wheels in motion to get the expansion for Medstone Publishing open here in Boston. Losing someone as supportive and inspirational as my grandfather was hard on me, but I feel his strength carry on in me with each step forward that I take. Once I moved to Boston, I realized how much I was struggling to find peace in Chicago.
Although my brother never lived in Chicago, it was hard to shake off the heaviness of his loss and becoming a single parent. Every inch of the city was painted with memories of a struggle instead of remembering those times as ones I cherished.
Sure, we had growing pains trying to figure things out on our own, but Noah and I did it together. Something about the experience of coming to a new city was freeing. Much like when I moved to California more than a decade ago for a year of college, it gave us the opportunity to start a clean slate. My heart needed it more than I realized and I think Noah did too.
“You think Roger might bethe one?” Kalli deadpans.
“Yeah,” I tell my best friend, although I don’t think I’m as convincing as I hope from the look on her face. Kalli is too observant and knows I’m not in love with Roger. She can tell I haven’t been in love with any of the guys I’ve dated since I met her.
“We’re talking aboutyourRoger, right? The same guy I met on our double-date?” Kalli eyes me as she takes a sip from her coffee mug.
She’s sitting in my office as we have our ritual morning meet up. We have to schedule this in every day because our schedules are absolutely packed. Kalli is our chief legal officer at Medstone and the minute we met back in Chicago, we clicked. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
She transferred here from our Chicago office eighteen months ago, and having my best friend with me to tackle this city has been one of the reasons I’ve loved this transition as much as I have. She’s sharp as a tack and I love how great she is at her job. The issue is, when it comes to knowing when I’m pretending, she can read me like a book.
“Why is that so hard to believe? Roger could be it for me,” I say, avoiding her pointed stare.
She nearly spits out her coffee. “Because it’s Roger, Indy.” She rolls her eyes. “The guy is as exciting as a fucking encyclopedia. Plus, you haven’t committed to anyone since Noah came into the picture and now you’re intothisguy? Explain yourself.”
“First, that’s rude. Second, maybe he’s different. Maybe he’s made me reevaluate things.” I give her a pointed glare.
“Come on, Indy. You’re the least romantic person I know. Also, I’ve met the guy. There’s no way that guy can even find your clit, let alone your G-spot, babe. He can’t be your forever guy,” she chastises.
