Every workman who enters this space brings a new piece of her vision, and she looks almost overwhelmed. Her demeanor has changed since last week, but when she sees the transformation of the condo little by little every day, there is an obvious calming of her spirit.
They enter, and I’m immediately taken by their familiarity. They are her. Her mother looks like her, and her father carries his body in much the same manner as she does. She belongs to them, and it oddly makes me jealous and radiating with warmth at the same time. I introduce myself quickly, holding a hand out to her father and kissing her mother on the cheek. Adeline watches with an earnest look, and when my eyes meet hers she gives a very gentle and quick smile.
“I’m Jordan Ellinwood. It’s nice to meet you both.”
Her father speaks first. “I’m Sam Parker. It’s good to meet you, Jordan.”
He’s kind, but there’s a sternness to this voice, and I’m reminded he was once in law enforcement. He’s trim, of medium height, and was likely quite handsome in a roguish sort of way once upon a time. He obviously knows nothing of what I’ve done to his daughter’s body, but meeting his gaze I have no problem being calm and assured. I respect her. I care for her, and this man, though programmed to protect her, is not my enemy. We care for the very same thing. The only difference is her compassion for them is tied to familial love rather than romantic. The thought stills me even as I shake his hand. I love her. Can I possibly love her? I want her to love me as truly as she does them. I want her to need my support just as she needs theirs. I want to pick up where they’ve left off. I want to be the one to care for her, support her, challenge her, and protect her now that they can’t. But she’s running back to them. Why? Because I haven’t stepped up to do any of those things. She’s pushed me away, and I’ve allowed it with no challenge whatsoever.
I have to swallow hard over the sudden lump in my throat. Adeline is watching me as I once watched her. I’ve fought with my eyes to remain distant from her, but they always beg to seek her out, to invade her mind, to overcome her obstinacy. I look to her mother, who is already watching me with intrigue and wonder. She is just as lovely as Adeline, her age showing beautifully and gracefully in the fine wrinkles around her eyes and cheeks. She looks nothing like our world. She’s simple and perfect. Her clothing is casual in the way you would expect to see in some perfect prairie town. She wears boot-cut jeans, a floral peasant-style button-up shirt, and a cardigan. She’s like a model from L.L.Bean, and she’s the perfect glimpse of how Adeline will mature perfectly and genuinely into old age—God willing with me at her side.
I like them instantly, wanting to know more, wanting to invade her life. She gives them the tour of our space we’ve designed together. She shows them the bathroom, the kitchen, the living area, and the bedroom. When we enter the bedroom both our eyes seek the space against the exposed brick wall where we made love. It was the last time we were together, and the stifling emotion in the room is palpable, and I’m guessing she feels the same. Her parents are likely the only ones in the room who don’t feel the heated energy passing between us.
Funny what was once erotic, exciting, and forbidden is now so loaded with emotion and pain, but that is how our dynamic has shifted. When I first met her, it was all about the physicality of our bodies. I wanted hers, and I damn well knew she wanted mine. Now, I still crave her body, her touch, her breath, her kiss, her warmth, her tightness that fits me so perfectly, every last part of her physical being, but it’s now so supercharged with my emotional desire it’s hard to see or understand the difference.
They move in unison around the room, and I catch her occasional glimpse as she points out different details. She’s nervous, she’s unsure once again, and I imagine pulling her into my arms as her parents stand by, reassuring her in the way she needs. My feelings are genuine, and for the first time in such a long time I feel no guilt. I’ve honored her body, her mind, her soul, and though I’ve lost her, it’s not for lack of want.
As I follow them from the room still studying their closeness, compassion, and relation to one another, I listen to their conversation. They want to take her to lunch. They must be back at the airport at three o’clock to continue their trip to Washington, D.C. Adeline’s gaze flits to mine as she considers their proposal, but before she has time to concern herself or refuse their wishes, I step in. “Why don’t you let me take you all to lunch. I’d love the chance to speak with you further, and we have some fine restaurants nearby.”
Adeline’s eyes flash to mine, and I register her concern. “You don’t have to do that…” Her expression is warning me, but there’s no need. I just want to be near her, to experience her life, to understand her better.
“Nonsense. We all have to eat. I don’t want to interrupt your time together though…” Her father shakes his head at my last comment, stopping any further question as Adeline’s mother watches us both in interest. A small smile creeps across her face as she relents to our wishes with a subtle nod, and linking her arm with Adeline’s, she steers us all toward the elevators.
***
“What do you mean you grew up alone?” My mother’s words are prying as they always are, and by the hesitant look on Jordan’s face it hasn’t escaped his attention.
But he’s a good sport as he replies, “They were always overseas. My father’s position as an ambassador required it, and by the time I knew any better I was in boarding school.”
“But who took care of you?”
“I had nannies. A number of nannies. And once I was older, I don’t know. It was just…” He looks embarrassed, vulnerable; he can’t hold my gaze and is fidgeting. Jordan doesn’t do nervous, but by the look of it he is exactly that. My mother is prying, which of course she’s good at, but it has me wanting to defend him. The sadness and humiliation in his eyes hurts. We are nothing but a reminder of everything he didn’t have in his family.
“But now … I mean … you must see them now. Right?” My mother still. She can be unrelenting. She means no harm, and by the compassioned look on her face her heart is breaking.
“Uh… Well … I mean … sometimes.” His speech is halted and lurching in his embarrassment, and it hurts me physically. His gaze flits away. “They usually call if they come to town.”
“Usually?” The woman will not stop.
“Mom, please.” I’m begging as much with my eyes as my words. I don’t want to offend him. He’s so uncomfortable, it’s hard to watch.
But my mother can ignore me with the best of them when she wants. “But I mean, what about birthdays, holidays… They visited you then, didn’t they? Or did you visit them?”
“Mom!”
“It’s okay, Adeline.” He finally looks back to my eyes, but looks away quickly again. “Umm … no … I…” He clears his throat before continuing. “I just… They were… No, I didn’t see them… They sent gifts … sometimes…” He shrugs, still fighting the humiliation, but he’s being honest and forthright. He has no reason to be embarrassed, and I wish I could tell him; of all the things I would love to say to him, it’s the most important thing he needs from me right now. But that isn’t who we are.
He clears his throat as my parents continue to study him. As the conversation moves away from him and his sad upbringing, he listens to our interaction. He looks relieved to have the heat off him, and at times he even looks amused. He’s given up withholding his eyes from mine entirely and watches me. But I’m still stuck on his words. He grew up nearly alone. His parents were always overseas, and he stayed at home being raised by nannies before eventually being shipped off to boarding school. He admitted some of these details to me already, but the candor and pain in his voice as he delved into the true details of his life was eye opening. He tried hard to act as though it was nothing, but the embarrassment was so visible, his voice far quieter than usual. My God, how is growing up alone nothing? I can’t imagine my life without my parents being present and supporting, and yet he has nearly always been alone.