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She looks up at the sky, appearing to gauge the time based on the sun’s position. “I think so.” Her smile turns to a grin. “Let’s go celebrate your not so adulty adultness.”
Callie and I walk hand in hand to my new truck. Well, new to me truck. It’s a fifteen-year-old Ford that was given a serious tune-up before James’s dad—my dad—handed me the keys. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had no idea how to drive my new birthday present, so I clumsily backed out of the driveway with Callie coaching me the whole way. As soon as we were out of sight, we swapped places. Her birthday present to me is driving lessons, and more time alone with her sounds like the best gift I could ask for.
∞∞∞
There are so many cars parked around my house that we have to drive a block away to find a spot. Balloons, streamers, and cardboard baseball paraphernalia point the way to my front door, and the sounds of chatter and music pour from the open windows. A sickening sense of dread fills my stomach as I fight to put a smile on my face. There will be many people to disappoint when I don’t remember them.
Callie wraps her arms around mine and leans up to kiss the underside of my jaw. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”
“Sure,” I reply, fighting a little harder for that smile.
“You’ll see.” She reaches out and raps three times on the door.
The music is turned down, and the chatter inside changes to giggling shushing. I look quizzically down at Callie. It’s not a surprise party, so I don’t know why everyone is acting so weird. She grins up at me and then opens the door.
A loud cheer of, “Happy birthday,” greets us as we walk in, and my smile is a little wooden until I notice everyone is wearing “Hello, my name is:” stickers on their chests. Not only is everyone wearing name tags, but below each name is their relation to me. Just like the cheat sheet binder Steven made me.
Callie pulls two stickers from her pocket and hands me one. They are name tags like everyone else’s, except mine just says “Birthday Boy,” My smile is wobbly but genuine as I watch Callie peel hers off its backing and place it on the left side of her chest— “Callie (Girlfriend).”
“Unky Jams!” shouts a toddler wearing a ballerina tutu and a pastel rainbow unicorn headband. She races at me full speed, running into my legs, and then raises her arms to be picked up. After hoisting her up on my hip, she looks very serious as she states, “Mommy said your memory isn’t good, so we wear the stickers with our names on it. Mine has unicorn stickers that sparkle.” She points at her name tag that has “Madison (Niece)” written on it, surrounded completely by various puffy unicorn stickers that are also shades of pastels.
A solemn, slightly older boy follows his sister toward me, his hands twisting the bottom of his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt. “I’m Jayden.”
“I remember from my welcome home party,” I reply, my heart lodged in my throat.
He nods and then stares at his feet, clearly unsure what else to do, while a room full of people watch like they are waiting for permission to get back to the party. I was an only child, so I have no idea how to interact with small kids. The few I have interacted with were more like my niece, chattering away with little need of input.
Callie squats down so she’s about eye level with my nephew. “Who’s your favorite turtle? Mine’s Donatello.” She smirks up at me. “I’ve always liked the smart ones.”
His expression turns serious as he immediately starts arguing the merits of Michelangelo’s superiority over Donatello, namely that nunchucks are way cooler than a “big stick.” Having done his duty to introduce himself to his uncle, he takes Callie’s hand and drags her upstairs to show her the toys he brought with him. So much for my human shield.
A woman in her mid-twenties, who has the same ash blonde hair as me, smiles at the kids with tear bright eyes. Her name tag reads, “Margo (Luckiest Big Sister).”
My eyes sweep the rest of the crowd who are all crammed into the living room. Most of the baseball team is here, each of their name tags having something ridiculous written under their names like “Teammate Who Loves Pickles.” Dave’s tag is more thoughtful with “Best Friend for Life.” Family members who I haven’t seen since my welcome home party lounge on the furniture, all of them wearing encouraging smiles.
The guys are littered amongst the crowd with simply “Friend” written on their tags. That’s an enormous understatement, but it’s hard to encapsulate all that they are to me in a few words. Connor stands behind Nolan, who’s sitting on his walker. Lately, he’s had more bad days than good, and his fatigue has gotten so severe it’s difficult for him to stand for long periods of time. Donovan is leaning against the doorframe that leads to the kitchen, and Kaleb is with the rest of the team.
In the heart of the crowd are James’s parents—my new parents. Steven places a hand on the base of his wife’s spine and gives her a gentle nudge toward me. Her forest green eyes glisten, and she looks unsure as she approaches, her mouth pulling down at the corners.
Madison notices her grandmother’s discomfort and holds out her hands. “Don’t be sad, Grandma. I give you hug.” I transfer the wiggling child over, and she squeezes her grandmother’s neck before kissing her hard on the cheek. “Kiss and make better.”
“Thank you, Maddie,” she replies, her smile warm with deep laugh lines gathering about the corners of her eyes. Adjusting the toddler on her hip, she takes a deep breath and then holds out her hand. Confused, I take it, and she gives it a solid handshake. “Hi. I’m Sandra. Your mother. I hope we can get to know each other better.”
It’s such a bittersweet thing to hear. My mother. She isn’t, but she could be if I let her. Not wanting to cry in front of everyone, I blink hard, and my lips pull into another wobbly smile. This is all I’ve wanted since I woke up in that hospital bed—a fresh start where I can just be me.
“Now say your name,” Madison whispers loudly, and the whole room laughs, the tension-filled bubble bursting under the manners of a toddler. She looks around with a confused frown. “Mommy says it’s rude not to say your name when they tell you theirs. That’s how you make friends.” She tilts her head to the side, her lips pressed tightly together in thought. “Daddy says only say my name to other kids and trusted adults. It’s okay. You can trust Grandma.”
“You’re right,” I agree with a wet chuckle. Looking into Sandra’s hopeful gaze, I give her hand a shake. “Hi. I’m… James. Your son… and I’d like that.”
“Can I… Can I give you a hug?” she asks quietly enough that if I turn her down, only Madison will hear. When I nod, her whole face lights up with joyous relief.
With a toddler sandwiched between us, I embrace the shorter woman, and she shudders against me, mumbling how sorry she is into my shoulder. I offer shushing noises of comfort while actively trying to relax my body. Guilt eats away at me again, but I do my best to push it down. This is about new beginnings. When we pull apart, my T-shirt is wet, and there are tear tracks down her cheeks.
“Why sad, Grandma?” my niece asks with concern.
Sandra kisses the child on the cheek. “These are happy tears. Sometimes grandmas get big feelings, and we need to cry to let them out.”
Madison nods like she’s just been offered the answers to the cosmos. “I get big feelings too. I take nap and feel better.” Apparently finished with the adults, she suddenly starts wiggling and huffing. “Down now!”
