Picturing Perfect (25 page)

"Whatever works best." He nodded. "Whenever you're ready. Honestly."

"You're so awesome." I sighed. And suddenly, the idea of waiting another week was unacceptable. I pursed my lips with determination. "This Saturday."

Jason cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously, no pressure," he said, raising his arms up near his handsome face.

"It'll be wonderful," I said with sincerity. "I'll see if my mom can watch Marty."

"Perfect. And if not, mine will. You know how much she loves babies."

"I know," I replied with a smile. Mrs. Kelly had been fantastic. She knitted everything under the sun for Marty: blankets, booties, sweaters and beanie hats. She was such an incredible woman. Every few days, Jason arrived with more gifts from his family. Poetry books from his father, knitted items from his mother and music from Maya. Auden had been showing up daily with gifts of her own. She already thought of Marty as her nephew, and probably always would, no matter what happened between her brother and me. I loved that the Kelly family had embraced us both so completely.

There were moments, though, when I wondered if they'd ever see Marty as their own. Could they? Would they? And whenever I thought of the Kelly family, I inevitably thought of Tucker and his dysfunctional family. His mother and father had made no attempts to meet their grandson. The thought made me so angry, at times, I could barely see straight.

I stood and walked to the sink, placing my plate and half-eaten bagel on the counter top. Glancing down at the untouched container of capers, I was overcome with emotion. It took over my body completely and I had to grip the handle of the nearest drawer just to stay upright. Dad would not approve of untouched capers. He always did love those disgusting things. But, he was gone…and no one was going to eat the capers.

"Try the capers, sweetheart."

"Ew, Dad, no." I shook my head vigorously. Those things looked like canned peas and smelled like sea salt. Yuck.

"You don't know what you're missing."

"I'll try one." Auden shrugged, popping one into her mouth. She chewed and made a face I'd seen anytime she tried something gross. She grabbed her can of Coke and downed most of it. "That was the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten."

My dad just shook his head and laughed. "You'll see. Your taste buds are always changing. When you're my age, you'll love them. Just wait."

"Whatever, Dad." I rolled my eyes like the dramatic twelve-year-old I had become. It was just another Sunday morning with my dad. Bagels, lox and schmear from the local deli. Mom didn't care for lox, so it was our thing. And when Auden slept over (which happened often) she was always happy to join us. Dad continued to pop them in his mouth just to gross us out. And each time, he shook his head and said something like, "Seriously, so good. Wanna try one?"

Around and around we'd go. Every single time.

God, I miss Sunday mornings.

"Haddie, what's going on?" The look of sheer horror on Jason's face dragged me back to reality. I was still holding the small plastic container, tears spilling down my cheeks.

"He always ate them. Always."

"Who? Your dad?"

I nodded in response, letting out an audible sob from my throat. I felt so caught up in the moment that I didn't even have time to notice just how crazy I must've seemed to Jason. All that mattered to me was the gaping hole in my heart.

"I miss him so goddamn much. And he'll never meet Marty. He'll never know his grandson."

"I know," he said, pulling me close, stroking my hair.

We stood in silence, Jason running his hands through my hair and letting his fingers glide across my shoulder blades. My sobs softened into soft whimpers in the comfort of his arms.

"I'll eat them," Jason said. I pulled away, my eyes stretched wide in shock.

"You hate them just as much as I do," I reminded him.

"So?"

"So, don't be stupid. It'll just gross you out…it won't bring him back."

Jason shrugged. "I'll be fine. It's nothing. Give them to me, please."

I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to change his mind. But, he tipped his head forward, raising his eyebrows expectantly, and reached out his hand to take the small container of capers.

"Do you want something to drink? You've got to wash those bad boys down, ya know."

"No, I'm okay," he said, popping three of the little mushy green capers into his mouth. He did his best not to grimace, but I knew he was disgusted. Without even realizing it, I laughed. And not just a small giggle. I let out a huge belly laugh as Jason popped more capers into his mouth, one after another after another. Soon we were both in hysterics, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed that much.

"Okay, okay, okay," I said, doing my best to pull myself out of my fits of laughter. "Give me one."

"No, you don't have to do that," Jason said, shaking his head. "I'm fine taking one for the team. Seriously."

"No, that's not it. My dad always said that when I was older, my taste buds would be more mature and that I'd like them. I want to test that theory."

A huge smile crossed my face and I felt almost giddy, picking up one caper from the small plastic dish. I stood up, plopping the caper on top of my open-faced sandwich. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, bringing the bagel to my lips.

The saltiness overwhelmed my mouth at first, but the creaminess of the schmear and the crusty texture of the bagel all came together to make something even more delicious than I could have imagined. My eyes widened as I chewed. Tears formed again. Only this time, they were tears of amazement, tears of surprise, tears of absolute joy.

"He was right. It's so good. You have to try them on your bagel."

Jason and I returned to the kitchen table, piling our bagels with the rest of the capers, marveling at how all the tastes really did come together. Jason was the perfect breakfast companion. He encouraged me to talk about my dad instead of avoiding it. And so, over my dad's favorite breakfast, I shared all sorts of stories about the man who had such a profound impact on my life. The man who cleaned up my skinned knees with Bactine and had tea parties with my stuffed Hello Kitty doll. The man who encouraged me to climb trees and to always believe in the goodness of others. It felt so good to discuss the wonder of a man who was Martin Foster. The man who raised me. The man who taught me to believe in myself. The man who knew his daughter would enjoy capers on her bagel when she was all grown up.

My heart was racing all afternoon. My mom had just arrived to spend the evening with the baby and I was putting the finishing touches on my hair. Thick, loose waves, the way Jason seemed to like it best. He hadn't touched me much since the baby was born, but sometimes when we watched television, he ran his fingers through my hair. And I loved it. So there was no way I was going to put my hair up. I wanted him to have full access to my curls.

I finished my hair and joined my mother in the kitchen. I'd just nursed Marty, so he would be okay for a little while, but she needed to see the prepared bottles in the refrigerator. She listened intently, nodding at each instruction I gave. She understood how strange this was for me. I'd been with him constantly for the last month, never even leaving to grab a coffee or go to the store. I just hadn't had any desire to be away. But, tonight was my very first date with Jason. A date I'd been waiting for since I was eight years old. It was the best motivation I could ever have to leave my baby with my mother for a few hours.

The bell rang and in an instant, the lovesick teenager in me returned, knowing Jason was on the other side of the door. And tonight, he wasn't there as a friend. He wasn't there as a helper. He was there as a man who desired me, a man who
wanted
me.

"Are you gonna get that?" My mom smirked. Since the doctors altered her medication, bits and pieces of the Allison Foster I grew up with were shining through—her smirks, her sarcasm. Each little glimpse made me smile and lessened the ache in my heart.

She's coming back to me.

"Oh…right," I said. "Do I look okay?"

"Gorgeous." My mom smoothed my hair down with her hand, gliding it across my cheek. That was all the reassurance I needed.

Quickly, I opened the door and was taken aback by the man standing before me. His hair was cut, his stubble was gone and a brand new pair of glasses sat on his nose. They were slim and black. They complemented his features perfectly. As fancy as his face appeared, though, he was dressed as only Jason Kelly would be. He had a navy blue t-shirt on underneath a blue-and-white checkered button-down oxford. He was holding an elegant bouquet of calla lilies, wrapped with a simple satin ribbon.

He handed me the bouquet of gorgeous flowers. "You look beautiful."

As I held the flowers in my hands, I glanced back at my handsome date. Since the flowers were no longer blocking my view of his chest, I saw it peeking from behind the checked oxford. The Camp North Star t-shirt I gave him for his birthday all those years ago. The shirt I had assumed he'd forgotten about a long time ago. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"You remember this?" Jason asked, grasping his shirt between his fingers.

"How could I forget?" I asked. "I can't believe you still have it."

"Are you kidding? It's one of my most prized possessions. Always has been," Jason replied, his voice soft and gentle as he took my hand in his.

Wow, this is all happening. This is real. The man I've loved for fourteen years wants me in return.

Jason entered the apartment, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. My skin grew hot beneath his touch and I started to feel flustered.

"Hey, Mrs. Foster," Jason said with a large smile.

"Jason, you look nice," Mom said.

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes in embarrassment. I never dreamed that at twenty-three years old, my mother would be present for a first date. Funny how things never turn out quite as planned. I was starting to realize that my plans were never set in stone. They were ideas of how things should be. And it was okay to have new ideas, new plans, new dreams.

"Where are we going?" I asked Jason as he opened the passenger door to his Jeep Wrangler. I gladly climbed in as I waited for his answer. He just smiled and closed the door, trotting around the car, not saying a word. He climbed in next to me, still silent.

"You know you want to tell me," I flirted. But, he didn't budge. He just shook his head and tried his best to focus on the road.

Ten minutes later, I knew exactly where we were going. Once again, this man knew exactly what to do…exactly how to impress me, to bring the memories flooding back to my lovesick brain.

"I can't believe you remembered."

"I've already told you, Haddie. When it comes to you, to
us
…I remember everything."

"You're going to love this pizza," Auden said. It was a regular Saturday night and we were having a sleepover at her house.

"You've never been to Bill's Pub, honey?" Mrs. Kelly looked at me as if I was an alien from a distant planet. Everyone in our town went to Bill's on a somewhat regular basis. But my family didn't. My dad was highly allergic to peanuts. When my parents moved to the town after they got married, they visited the infamous neighborhood pizza parlor, only to discover that every table was given a bowl of peanuts to eat. My dad couldn't be near peanuts or the surfaces where peanuts had been. Needless to say, my parents left Bill's Pub as quickly as they entered it. And never returned.

"Her dad's allergic to peanuts," Auden replied. "You knew this, Mom." She rolled her eyes and twirled her hair as we pulled into the parking lot.

"Are you allergic?" Jason asked from the other side of the minivan. He looked concerned.

"No, not at all."

"Have you ever had them?" Mr. Kelly asked, looking concerned as well.

"Yes, at my grandpa's house. And my mom gets me peanut butter cups sometimes," I said. Both men in the family looked like their fears had been calmed.

We walked into the restaurant, and as we were led to our table, I heard the sound of crunching under our feet.

"That's the shells," Jason said with a grin. "You can throw them wherever you want."

"Within reason," Mrs. Kelly corrected him.

We sat down and Auden's parents began to read the menu. Luckily Maya was sleeping at a friend's house, so no one would be forced to share an anchovy pizza with her. She was the only person I knew who actually liked to eat them. The thought of them made me gag. Mr. Kelly usually appeased her and shared the disgusting dish, while the rest of us crinkled our lips in disgust.

"Are you gonna get Cinderella cheese?" Jason asked as we popped peanuts in our mouths. I glared at Auden. She'd told him about my stupid habit as a little kid. I called mozzarella cheese Cinderella cheese up until I was seven years old. And as a fourteen-year-old who was hopelessly smitten with my friend's older brother, it wasn't something I wanted to be reminded of.