“Feel like an ice cream?” she asked as they took the Sir Francis Drake turn-off.
“Sure.” Andy grinned again, and then laughed as she looked at him. It was impossible not to laugh at that big gummy grin.
“When are you going to get some teeth, Andrew Clarke? Maybe we ought to buy you some false ones.”
“Naww …” He smiled, and then chuckled.
It was fun being alone with him, usually she had a earful of kids driving home from the game, but today one of the other mothers had done the honors, and she had gone to the game anyway, because she'd promised. Allyson was spending the afternoon with her friends, Brad was playing golf, and Page was caught up with all her projects. She was planning another mural for the school, and she had promised to take a look at a friend's living room and see what she'd recommend, but there had been nothing really pressing.
Andy had a double scoop of Rocky Road in a sugar cone, with chocolate jimmies, and she had a single scoop of coffee-flavored frozen yogurt, the nonfat kind that fooled you into thinking you were doing something really sinful. They sat outside together for a while, as Andy's ice cream got all over his face and dripped on his uniform, which Page said didn't matter. Everything had to be washed anyway, so what harm was there in a little ice cream. They watched people come and go, and enjoyed the warmth of the late afternoon sun. It was a gorgeous day, and Page talked about going on a picnic on Sunday.
“That would be neat.” Andy looked pleased as the Rocky Road finally engulfed the tip of his nose, extending all the way to his chin, as Page felt overwhelmed with love for him as she watched him.
“You're cute …you know that? I know I'm not supposed to say stuff like that, but I think you're terrific, Andrew Clarke …and a great baseball player to boot …how did I ever get so lucky?”
He grinned again, even more broadly, and the ice cream was absolutely everywhere, even on her nose, as she kissed him.
“You're a great guy.”
“You're okay, too …” He disappeared into his ice cream again, and then looked up at her with a question. “Mom …?”
“Yeah?” Her yogurt was almost gone, but his Rocky Road looked as though it was going to go on melting and dribbling and oozing forever. Ice cream had a way of growing in the hands of small children.
“Do you think we'll ever have another baby?”
Page looked surprised by the question. It wasn't the kind of thing boys usually asked. Allyson had asked her that several times. But now, at thirty-nine, she didn't think so. It wasn't that she felt too old, or was, given the ages people had babies these days, but she knew she'd never talk Brad into another child. He always insisted that all of that was behind him.
“I don't think so, sweetheart. Why?” Was he worried or just curious? She couldn't help but wonder.
“Tommy Silverberg's mom had twins last week. I saw them when I went to his house. They're pretty cute. They're identical,” he explained, looking impressed. “They weighed seven pounds each, that's more than I weighed.”
“It sure is.” He had weighed barely three, thanks to his early appearance. “I'll bet they are cute. But I don't think we'll be having twins …or even one …” Oddly enough, she felt sad as she said it. She had always agreed with Brad, out of loyalty to him, that two children was a perfect family for them, but there were still times when, out of the blue, she found herself longing for another baby. “Maybe you should talk to Dad about it.” She teased.
“About twins?” He looked intrigued.
“About another baby.”
“It would be fun …kind of …they look like a lot of trouble though. Everything at Tommy's was a mess, they had all this stuff everywhere …you know, like beds and baskets …and swings, and there were two of everything … his grandmother was there helping, she cooked dinner, and she burned it. His dad did a lot of yelling.”
“Doesn't sound like much fun to me.” Page smiled, imagining the scene of total chaos surrounding the arrival of twins in a home where they were already poorly organized and had two other children. “But the beginning can be like that, till you get the hang of it.”
“Was everything a mess like that when I was born?” He finally finished the ice cream and wiped his mouth on his sleeve and his hands on the pants of his baseball uniform as Page laughed while she watched him.
“No, but you sure are a mess now, kiddo. Maybe we'd better get you home and get all that stuff off you.”
They climbed back into her station wagon, and headed home, chatting about other things, but his questions about the baby seemed to stay with her. For a moment, there was an old familiar pang of longing. Maybe it was just the warm, sunny day, or the fact that it was spring, but she suddenly wished that there would be other babies … romantic trips …more time with Brad …lazy afternoons in bed, with nowhere to go, and nothing to do except make love to him. As much as she loved her life, there were times when she wished she could turn the clock back. Nowadays, her life was so full of car pools, and helping with homework, and PTA, she and Brad only seemed to catch each other on the fly, or at the end of an exhausting day. And in spite of all that, there was still love and desire …but never enough time to indulge it. It was time that they never had enough of.
They pulled into their driveway a few minutes later, and Page noticed Brad's car as Andy gathered up his things. She looked over at him proudly. “I had a good time today,” she said, still warm in the afternoon sun, and her heart full of all she felt for him. It had been one of those special days when you realize just how lucky you are, and are grateful for every precious moment.
“So did I …thanks for coming, Mom.” He knew she didn't have to, and he was glad she came anyway. She was good to him, and he knew it. But he was a good boy, and he deserved it.
“Anytime, Mr. Clarke. Now go tell Dad about that famous catch. You made history out there today!” He laughed and ran into the house, as she picked up Allyson's bicycle sprawled across the walkway. Her roller blades were leaning up against the garage, and her tennis racket lay on a chair just outside the kitchen door with a can of balls she had “borrowed” from her father. She had obviously had a busy day, and as soon as Page walked into the house, she saw her on the kitchen phone, still wearing her tennis clothes, her long blond hair in a French braid, her back turned to her mother. She was concluding some plan, and then hung up and turned to face her. She was a beautiful girl, and it still startled Page sometimes when she saw her. She was so striking looking, and she seemed so mature. She had a woman's body, and a young girl's mind, and she was always in motion, in action, in mid-plan. She always had something to say, tell, ask, do, somewhere she had to be, right now, two hours ago, this minute …she really had to! She had that look on her face now, as Page rapidly shifted gears from the easy roll of being with Andy. Allyson was more intense, more like Brad, always on the move, on the go, thinking ahead to what she wanted to do next, where she had to be, and what was important to her. She was more intense than Page, more focused, not as kind, or as gentle as Andy would be one day. But she was a bright girl with a fine mind and lots of good ideas and good intentions. Every now and then her common sense went astray, and occasionally she and Page would get into a roaring fight over some typically teenage mistake she'd made, but eventually Allyson usually made sense, and calmed down enough to listen to her parents.