He shakes his head and gulps down the last of his orange juice. “Nope. Not gonna happen,” he says. “Quit trying to get hints out of me.”
“Oh come on,” I whine playfully and walk toward the refrigerator. “That’s not going to give anything away.”
“Give up, Bray.” He laughs and pushes his chair underneath the table.
“Fine,” I say, surrendering. “Did you talk to dad?”
Elias nods and rinses his plate off at the sink. “Yeah, he called while you were in the shower. He said your mom will be home about an hour after we get there. Not sure I like that.”
I roll my eyes and smile at him as I close the refrigerator. “Give him a chance, babe. He can handle it.”
“I dunno,” Elias says, shaking his head solemnly. “He always has that nervous look in his eye. The whole time we’re gone I’ll be worried your dad will be hiding in the closet when we get back.”
I laugh out loud and set the juice container back in the fridge. “He’ll be fine,” I say. “Mom will be back before it comes to that.”
Elias steps up to me and fits his hands on my hips. “The dress is perfect for the occasion. Just so you know,” he says with a smile in his voice.
I smile and look down at it briefly. “Really?”
He nods and then kisses my forehead.
“OK, well let’s get out of here,” I say, grabbing my purse from the cabinet. “Plane leaves in an hour.” I drink down my juice and leave the glass on the counter.
We fly to Athens, and my sister picks us up from the airport and drives us to my parents’ house. Dad is sitting in the living room watching old reruns of Cheers, trying to look casual, when we walk through the front door.
When he gets up from his favorite chair, I walk straight over and hug him tight. “Hi, Dad.”
He kisses the top of my head and rubs my back with both hands. “It’s good to see you,” he says and then squeezes me a little tighter. It still feels awkward when he treats me with such fatherly kindness, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Rian moves through the room and heads straight into the kitchen. She had been talking about leftover homemade cheesecake that Mom had promised to save for her, on the ride here. She was worried dad might’ve eaten it before she arrived.
“And it’s good to see you, Elias,” Dad says with a welcoming nod.
A smile breaks out on my face. They actually get along now, though in the beginning it felt like walking on eggshells every time we’d visit my parents. Gradually, the two of them shed their grudges and came to an understanding.
They exchange a few more words, and then my dad steps up to Elias and reaches out both hands. “And how’s my favorite grandson doing?” he says with a big, awkward smile, looking down at our son in Elias’s arms. He never was good with children.
Elijah, a year old in a few days, with dark hair and bright blue eyes just like mine and his daddy’s, makes a timid face and recoils against Elias’s chest.
Dad’s hands drop to his sides. He makes a face, too, though it’s funny to me because he seems more afraid of Elijah than Elijah is of him.
“He doesn’t like me,” he says, nervously fondling the thick silver watch on his right wrist. “Maybe you should wait until your mom gets here before you head back to Savannah.”
I reach out for Elijah, and he practically leaps into my arms. “Oh don’t be ridiculous, Dad. He’s just not used to you. Only sees you once a month.” I put Elijah into my dad’s arms.
Dad holds Elijah, keeping his little butt (dressed in OshKosh B’Gosh blue jeans) propped in the bend of his arm. He looks nervous.
Elias glances over at me, an uneasy yet laughable look on his face.
Just when Dad thinks he might be able to pull this off, Elijah bursts into tears, reaching out his little arms to me.
Dad uses the opportunity and immediately hands him over.
Rian comes back into the living room holding a slice of cheesecake on a small white plate. “He’s walking now,” she teases dad, then takes another small bite off the end of her fork. “You think you can keep up?” She glances at me, and then Elias, trying to contain her laughter.
I pass Elijah to Elias and open the diaper bag on the couch. I explain everything Dad needs to know to hold him over until Mom gets here.
I know Dad can handle it. And Elias isn’t as afraid to leave him with dad as he pretends to be. According to Mom, Dad does a much better job with Elijah when there’s no one staring at him, or teasing him about changing diapers and whatnot.
Elias and I stay for only a few minutes, then Rian drives us back to the airport so we can make our return flight to Savannah. I’m so excited. And nervous. Whatever this surprise is that Elias has for me, it must be pretty special, because he’s been walking on air for the past three weeks. He was even the one who called my parents up and made the arrangements to have Elijah spend the weekend with them. Neither I nor Elias like leaving our son overnight anywhere, even with family, but we know that for some occasions we just have to let go. Apparently, this was one of them.
“I miss Little Man already,” Elias says on the plane.
I look at him. “Are you really worried?”
Elias laughs lightly and shakes his head. “Maybe only for your dad.”
I laugh, too.
Silence lingers between us for a moment as we both look out in front of us.
“Elias?” I ask quietly, looking over again.
“Yeah?” He smiles softly at me with the back of his head pressed against the seat.
“Do you remember that night at Jen’s house? When we talked about whether or not we’d go back in time if we could?”
“Yeah, I remember,” he says. He takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine.
“Well, you were right,” I say.
“About what?” He raises his head from the seat.
I squeeze his hand. “You said that when we were free to live our lives and enjoy our time together that I wouldn’t feel the same way. That I wouldn’t want to go back to our childhood. You were right.”
His blue eyes brighten. “I’m glad that I was,” he says and kisses my knuckles.
Elias
We make it back to Savannah by early evening and drive our car from the airport to the place I’ve been wanting to take her for weeks. I took a risk doing this without her, especially since it’s not something small and inexpensive. And a part of me is still worried that the whole idea might backfire, that instead of making her happy, it might bring back bad memories instead. But I have to go with my gut. With my heart. And my heart tells me that there were many more good memories than bad and that she’ll love it.