"Would you marry him?" she asked.
"Oh my God. I think I would," Es said, leaning against the dryer as her knees weakened.
"Damn, when you go, you go hard, don't you?" Jole said.
"I guess so. What the hell am I going to do?"
"Not freak out, first of all. This is all hypothetical. No one is popping the question anytime soon. It's always good to know where you stand in a relationship. End game affects the way you respond to things."
"What if he does though?" Es asked.
"Then you'll say yes, get you a leather vest for her, marry, ride away into the sunset, and have magma hot sex for the rest of your life."
"Just like that?" Es said, waving her hand in a fluid gesture.
"Well, you'd have to plan a few things first, but essentially yes. We're too old to play games and wait to be sure. You're thirty- eight, you know what you want and don't."
"Don't age me. I'm still thirty-seven."
"Not for much longer," Jole replied with glee.
"You're evil," Es said, making the sign of the cross and hissing.
"No, I'm past forty, and waiting for your perky breasted ass to catch up."
"They're small, not perky, Ms. Double Ds. I'm barley scraping the barrel of B cups."
"A man doesn't need more than a handful, and my back would love to be closer to a B. I was a happy C cup and then I breastfed two babies." Jole cupped her boobs, and Estelle laughed so hard she snorted.
"Holy crap, what would I do without you?"
"Be a lot less amused I suppose," Jole answered.
"That's the truth," Estelle said, and put a hold on the thoughts running through her mind after their talk of marriage.
§
She carefully made her way over the soft grass, eyeing the grey stone makers as she went. Marriage talk had brought around a fresh flood of guilt. What would it say about her love for Everett if she took another last name and made a new family? How could she continue toward the future when she was still clinging to parts of her past? Short answer, she couldn't. It's time to put them to rest. They'd been the weight on her shoulder, and her heart for too long. Her husband would never have wanted that. She stopped at the rectangular marking and ran her hands over the words. She'd made an executive decision, gathered what was left of her child, and buried her with her father, so she would never be alone. They shared the headstone. It brought her comfort now.
"I guess you know why I'm here. You always had a way of being two steps ahead of me about these things. I'll always love you and Emma. You're on my mind every day, and part of me will always wonder what if. I think its human nature, and we've all got a bit of masochist in us, don't we?" She traced the E in his name. "I met a man, his name is Xavier, but he's known as Snake. I think you'd like him a lot. He has this realness to him you have to respect, and he cares about me. He lost his family, too. It's how we bonded. I don't think I could've found someone more your opposite. I think that's part of why I like him so much. He's not in your shadow because he stands on his own. He's special and I love him. I hope you're proud of me where you are. I had a tough time for a while. But I turned it around the best way I could. I love my job. I meet some interesting characters and I get to play with booze all day." She laughed. "Who would've guessed those cocktail parties we used to host would lead to this?"
The clouds broke, and a strong beam of sunlight caressed her face. She tilted her head up and basked in its warmth. It felt like a caress from Everett's hand. It's a sign of acceptance. Closing her eyes, she smiled, and sat with the man who would always be her best friend.
§
Snake
He studied the worn piece of paper he'd read a dozen times. Today the results would come back. His hands shook slightly as he read over the list the Miles emailed him about Jocelyn. Her favorite color was turquoise. She possessed an advanced color palette for a six year old if you asked him. She loved spaghetti and meatballs, mashed potatoes, and cheeseburgers. She loved to dance, draw, and craft. They'd had her in ballet for over three years. It was mindboggling. What could a four or five year old really do in a ballet class? The creativity was all her mother. She had a knack for turning the most menial thing into a work of art. She'd made their house a cozy home on a shoestring budget.
There were no known allergies for her. It was a relief. It would make the transitioning process easier. He spent so much time studying her features and questioning himself. Did he see himself and Jade in her features, or was this a fool's belief in the world of a known liar?
He refolded the piece of paper, tucked it inside the pocket of his cut, and left the bathroom. He tried to hide his nervousness from Es, but he was certain she knew.
"You ready to go, Es?" he asked.
"Yep."
She stood from the couch, closing her Kindle, and tucking it into a black backpack she'd taken to using when they rode. He'd purchased a sissy seat which allowed her to ride more comfortably. She zipped up the bag, slung it over her shoulders, and took his hand. They were meeting up at the lawyer's office, where he and the Miles would open up their DNA packets together. He was silent as they left the house he hoped to turn into a real home and boarded his bike. Neither the feel of his woman against his back nor the wind on his face could settle him down. They pulled into the parking lot, and he backed into a space. After he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, he got off the bike, holding his hand out to Es. She grasped it and paused, studying him. His muscles tightened as he waited for her to say anything. She shook her head, as if thinking better of what she had planned, and climbed off.
Inside Arbuckle's office, Snake perched on the edge of his seat as the lawyers played nice.
"Are you ready to open the results, Gregory?" Arbuckle asked.
"I am, Jim."
"Here we go," Arbuckle said as he opened the sealed letter.
Snake held his breath.
"It's ninety-nine point nine percent certain Snake is Jocelyn's parent."
His heart crept up into his throat, silencing his vocal chords. A wail of anguish came over the telephone speaker. The mournful sound snapped him out of his stupor.
"I want my daughter," he said.
"What, you expect us to just give her over?" a man's voice barked.
"I wouldn't advise you to speak with him directly," the Miles' lawyer said.
"Fuck that, George, this is our daughter we're talking about," Mr. Miles said.
"No, it's my daughter," Snake barked.
"You're a monster! You expect us to simply hand her over with no warning like some stray puppy. She has to be prepared and groomed. Can you imagine what taking her from us and never looking back would do to her? She's nine years old for Christ's sake."
"She belongs with me. Don't act like you got her through legal means."
"How were we supposed to know you were out there? We were told her parents were drug addicted derelicts who'd bartered her for cash for heroin! We took her in knowing there was a chance she was a drug baby."
"And you want what, a medal for that? You want me to thank you for keeping my child away from me for the past four years?"
Es placed a hand on his arms. "Nothing is going to be settled like this," she said, and he turned his head to glare at her. "I know you're angry. You have every right to be. Right now, you need to think about Jocelyn, and what she needs. Put her first."
He ground his teeth and bit his tongue. The copper taste of blood hit his taste buds. Lashing out at Es would change nothing. She didn't deserve the brunt of his anger. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. I need to think like a Vice President instead of a father.
"And how do you suggest we handle this?" he asked, forcing the words out of his mouth.
"Ease her into things. Introduce you," Mr. Miles said.
"And what should we tell her, hmm?" Mrs. Miles said.
"How about the fucking truth? My wife was a damned good mother. She shouldn't be remembered as some cracked out druggie who cared more about heroine than her child. The thought is an insult to her memory."
"We didn't do this on purpose, Mr. Kolton," Mr. Miles said.
"The only thing I care about is getting back on track and taking steps to being where we should be. You're lucky I'm agreeing to do that. We both know if I took your asses to court you wouldn't have a leg to stand on, so don't mistake my willingness to do what's right for my daughter as a sign of weakness. I'm sure you did your homework so you know exactly who and what I am."
"An uncouth swine, not fit to-"
"So help me, shut up," Mr. Miles barked.
"I understand this is an emotionally charged issue, but I must insist we leave the negotiation and communication to the lawyers. We'll come up with a visitation schedule, then we'll send it to you for approval," Greg said.