“Mom, you were right.” You half smiled as you stroked your chin the way you did when you had a goatee in high school. It was seven-thirty or so in the morning. You met Katie after her all night shift for breakfast at Mimis. I was in a rush to get out the door for work. I needed to get packed up and was a little annoyed that I might not be able to get my contraband - a nice twenty-four ounce bottle of cold Diet Mountain Dew - from the little black fridge with you in my space. I noticed Katie outside sitting on one of the blue stone ledges when I spied my cold little Fort Knox in the corner by the patio door. She was wearing denim capris and a huge smile as she talked on her cell.
“What.” I said. Then you looked towards Katie and raised your eyebrows a few times and smiled so hard I thought your cheekbones might explode.
“I knew it.” I squoze you so hard I thought your port might pop out.
“So what changed your mind?” I asked, but I already knew. I imagined the two of you together after you met in June for an hour lunch that ended early the next morning. I knew you two loved each other since that marathon lunch. The more you insisted that you two were just friends, the more I wondered if Katie may be be the one: Mulan's mom. I always teased that I wanted you to adopt a little Chinese girl and name her Mulan, like Julie Sweeney did in her audiobook, In the Family Way. I smiled as I thought of our list of what we wanted in Mulan’s mom. The list included: someone who is kind, funny, smart, caring, loving, forgiving, and who would stay, if and when, the going got rough. Remember, you dictated and I added to the list when we watched the Changeling, with Angelia Jolie, in May.
“She confessed her feelings from the beginning.” You said. I knew beginning meant the first time around nearly seven years ago. “We both apologized for stupid things we did in the past.” You said. “I do love her.”
“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.” I repeated to the beat of my classic disco dance moves.
You motioned for Katie to come in from outside. “Only you and Dad know for now.” You cautioned. I rolled my eyes and smiled. I promised to keep mum and let you tell the world when you were ready. I hugged both of you and headed to work.
I ended up stopping by the Shell Station on Algonkian to get a Diet Mountain Dew. I put Lilly Allen’s, He Wasn’t There, on repeat. The song I secretly dedicated to Katie the first time I heard it in June. I took swigs of Diet Mountain Dew as I belted out the chorus, “I’m so glad I never gave up on him,” as I drove my hand me down silver Miata down Route 7 feeling magical.
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