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Something Magical Part 19

“So what did she acknowledge?” Adam’s words sink into the air around us, filling the truck with the wanting to hear the rest of the story about taking my mother to the barn. He sounds excited and genuinely curious about what she had told me. Kind of like when he asked me what I realized the first night we kissed.
“That at least she had me.” I whisper and he smiles at my mom’s a little too late realization.
“Hum, well don’t let her think I’m going to share you all the time.” Adam jokingly smiles and squeezes my hand reassuringly yet protectively.
“I won’t.” I promise and he loosens my hand slightly, as if he’s now sure I won’t let go.
“My mom was talking to me the other day.” Adam says and I smile because it isn’t so often that he likes to talk about his mom with me, and this time he doesn’t seem in pain either making it better then the last couple times he has talked about his family. “We are having a barbeque with a bunch family and friends at five. My mom wanted to know if you and your family would like to come, and I would like you to come too.” He smiles and finally gets out of the car and walks to the other side to let me out. We are back at my house for now, we had just gone on a hike and I am soaked with sweat.
For an instant I feel extremely under-ready. Then, because I realize I’m being ungrateful I just thank the fact that Adam even wants me NEAR his family. I smile widely and start to nod.
“I would love to, I just have to talk to my mom, and see if she wants to go. When she says yes the real challenge will be dragging my dad out of bed and making him look presentable.” I say and Adam walks me to the door. It’s eight a.m., so that gives me nine hours to get everything ready.
Once Adam and I make it to the front door, he turns to me. Grabbing both of my hands and intertwining our fingers, he looks down two inches so that our eyes are locked. Unlinking one of our hands, Adam cups the side of my jaw with his hand, like he did back at the beach house.
“Listen, your parents don’t have to come, but I would really like it if you came. That is if you want to.” He whispers and I smile, because I know he’s trying to say, ‘If you can’t get your dad to unlock the door then you can still come’, in a nicer way.
“I will, and I’ll also try to make my parents come. They need to meet your parents if this is going to get anywhere.” I say and Adam kisses me softly and quickly, because (or at least I assume) he doesn’t want me dad to come out and shoot him. I shake that thought out of my head because I remember that would require him to get out of bed.
“I’ll see you at five.” I say and then open the door. I hold Adam’s hand until the last possible moment of the door shutting and our fingertips barely brushing up against one another saying a faint goodbye.
“So a barbeque.” My mom’s voice is happy and light, making me very thankful. The last thing I need is her and dad to be a pain to get to this barbeque. She’s seems fine and happy right now. She’s obviously well enough to ease drop and listen to Adam and I from the open window that I somehow didn’t notice.
“Yeah, you don’t have to go if you don’t have to but it would mean a lot if you…” I start to ramble on but she only interrupts me.
“It would mean a lot if I got to know his parents?” She finishes my sentence for me with a no toothed smile that has a tinge of pride in it. Is she proud that I am taking responsibility and making the parents meet? “This guy really means a lot to you doesn’t he?” my mom asks and I can feel my cheeks brighten to a dark rose color.
“Yes, he really does. That’s why I was going to attempt dragging dad out of bed; I was also going to ask you for help in doing so.” I whisper the last part.
“Well let’s go get him then.” My mom replies, already halfway up the stairs. She starts to bang on the door. Before I can even consider how happy to be, I make a very clear realization:
My mother would do anything to make me happy, and so would Adam. That makes me have two people who love me, and that’s two more people then some have. I should be grateful.

I am grateful.



***


I put on the white summer dress that I bought with my mom that one day and smile at my unfamiliar reflection. The smile on my face is there because I feel pretty, which is pretty odd along with my mom helping me. Wondering what Adam will think I turn in circles. My hair is curled in gingery (not red for those who were wondering) auburn strands of twirls, framing my almost blemish free face (because my bangs are, thankfully, hiding a not-all-too-bad zit). A thin line of silver coats my eyelids lightly, making them shin just a smidge. Lastly strappy sandals wrap around my feet making a slithering sound that I have to admit is terribly annoying, when I walk.
Surprisingly my mom has gotten my dad to take the night off from his job as the dragon and come out of his cave. He is dressed in an unwrinkled navy blue polo shirt (not the ‘nerd’ kind for your information) and a pair of jean shorts that look barbeque appropriate. Thank you mom!!!!! Speaking of my beautiful mother, she isn’t looking too bad herself.
For the first time in months, she has straightened her frizzy brown hair so that it now lays a couple inches below her shoulders instead of above it. Her makeup is simple and reminds me how gorgeous it can make her cheek bones look. A light blue dress sways with her body when she walks and drops solidly to the ground when she stops moving, hiding her belly that was supposed to be the size of a melon or two. For a moment this makes me want to cry, but I turn my frown into a smile and look my mom in the eyes.
“You look gorgeous.” I whisper and hug her. She hugs me back tightly and whispers back into my ear with a caring tone.
“So do you.”
When I look back up at my dad he is smiling a sorry my way that I know won’t come from words because he is the type of person that is too proud for those kinds of apologies. Reluctantly, I take this one, because I know that it is the closest thing to an apology I will ever get from him. Plus he has gone through just as much as I have and the sad fact of it is that I would’ve acted the same exact way if I were in his position.

“Ok! We are all one big happy now!!! Let us go and meet the lucky boy!” My dad says as we climb into his car. He shuts up and just drives when my mom nudges him. I give him directions and in about five minutes maximum we stop in front of Adam’s house.

Adam holds out a hand and the dragon grips it tightly, but honorably. Did my dad realize that Adam has been here for me when he hasn’t for the last eight months, through the pregnancy AND moving?
“It’s nice to see you, Mr. Florence.” My dad says in a caring way, and now I know that my dad HAS realized what I thought he did.
Adam releases his hand and holds mine with it, and responds to my dad, “Likewise.” With a smile, and then explains that the steak and food is in the backyard and that his stepdad wouldn’t mind if my dad were to help him cook too. My dad, at the mere word of cooking, might as well have sprinted to the backyard in need of guy refuge. With a laugh my mom hugs Adam and he points in the direction of a group of women her age. She walks off in that same direction.
“Want to see my tree house?” he asks and I laugh because he said it like a proud little kid shows another his new toy. His hand still holds onto mine, making me feel more welcome then I would without it.
“Of course, I would love to see your tree house.” I say and he leads me to the back yard. Little kids run around and a small part of me hopes that two of them will be Andrea and Henry, but then I remember this is a barbeque of the people and friends on his MOM’S side, not his dad’s.
We climb up the tree. Adam going first so that he didn’t see up my dress while my dad was just across the grass at the grill, eyeing us from time to time. I wonder if it would have been different if my dad wasn’t here.
Holding out a hand to me again, I grab it and pull myself up from Adam’s stable base. Keeping hold of his hand that pulled me up from the ladder reminds me of when he hung me off the cliff. Suddenly I feel stupid. Even if it was Adam, who WILLINGLY lets someone hang them off a cliff?! Was I high? Then I remember him saying that his dad asked him mom to marry him that way. Would Adam be leaving me hanging with a proposal thickening the air we breathe soon? Or is he saving that for another girl?
“Do you like it?” he asks, still holding my hand.
“Yeah, very nice.” I say, admiring the cobweb that has taken its place in a corner of the small bedroom sized wooden ‘house’. Not seeing a spider in the web scares me a little bit, but I ignore it and take a seat on a small futon that has a coat of dirt on it.
“Nice enough to make you want to move in here with me?” he jokes and takes a seat by me.
“We would have some cleaning up to do, but I think it could work.” I say and he faces me, blue eyes sparkling. Making me think (again), if they only sparkle at my
I put on the white summer dress that I bought with my mom that one day and smile at my unfamiliar reflection. The smile on my face is there because I feel pretty. Wondering what Adam will think I turn in circles. My hair is curled in gingery auburn strands of twirls, framing my almost blemish free face (because my bangs are, thankfully, hiding a not-to-bad zit). A thin line of silver coats my eyelids lightly, making them shin just a smidge. Lastly strappy sandals wrap around my feet making a slithering sound that I have to admit is terribly annoying, when I walk.
Surprisingly my mom has gotten my dad to take the night off from his job as the dragon and come out of his cave. He is dressed in an unwrinkled navy blue polo shirt (not the ‘nerd’ kind for your information) and a pair of jean shorts that look barbeque appropriate. Thank you mom!!!!! Speaking of my beautiful mother, she isn’t looking too bad herself.
For the first time in months, she has straightened her frizzy brown hair so that it now lays a couple inches below her shoulders instead of above it. Her makeup is simple and reminds me how gorgeous it can make her cheek bones look. A light blue dress sways with her body when she walks and drops solidly to the ground when she stops moving, hiding her belly that was supposed to be the size of a melon. For a moment this make me want to cry, but I turn my frown into a smile and look my mom in the eyes.
“You look gorgeous.” I whisper and hug her. She hugs me back tightly and whispers back into my ear with a caring tone.
“So do you.”
When I look back up at my dad he is smiling a sorry my way that I know won’t come from words because he is the type of person that is too proud for those kinds of apologies. Reluctantly, I take this one, because I know that it is the closest thing to an apology I will ever get from him. Plus he has gone through just as much as I have and the sad fact of it is that I would’ve acted the same exact way if I were in his position.

“Ok! We are all one big happy now!!! Let us go and meet the lucky boy!” My dad says as we climb into his car. I give him directions and in about five minutes maximum we stop in front of Adam’s house.
Adam holds out a hand and the dragon grips it tightly, but honorably. Did my dad realize that Adam has been here for me when he hasn’t?
“It’s nice to see you, Mr. Florence.” My dad says in a caring way, and for sure I know that my dad HAS realized what I thought he did.
Adam releases his hand and holds mine with it, and responds to my dad, “Likewise.” With a smile Adam explains that the steak and food is in the backyard and that his stepdad wouldn’t mind if my dad were to help him cook too. My dad, at the mere word of cooking, might as well have sprinted to the backyard in need of guy refuge. With a laugh my mom hugs Adam and he points in the direction of a group of women her age. She walks of in that same direction and Adam’s hand finds mine again.
“Want to see my tree house?” he asks and I laugh.
“Of course, I would love to see your tree house.” I say and he leads me to the back yard. Little kids run around and a small part of me hopes that two of them will be Andrea and Henry, but then I remember this is a barbeque of the people and friends on his MOM’S side, not his dad’s. We climb up the tree. Adam going first so that he didn’t see up my dress while my dad was just across the grass at the grill, eyeing us from time to time. I wonder if it would have been different if my dad wasn’t here.
Holding out a hand to me, I grab it and pull myself up from Adam’s stable base. Holding his hand that pulls me up from the ladder reminds me of when he hung me off the cliff. Suddenly I feel stupid. Even if it was Adam, who WILLINGLY lets someone hang them off a cliff?! Was I high? Then I remember him saying that his dad asked him mom to marry him that way. Would Adam be leaving me hanging with a proposal thickening the air we breathe soon?
“Do you like it?” he asks, still holding my hand.
“Yeah. It’s very nice.” I say, admiring the cobweb that has taken its place in a corner of the small bedroom sized wooden ‘house’. Not seeing a spider in the web scares me a little bit, but I ignore it and take a seat on a small futon that has a coat of dirt on it.
“Nice enough to make you want to move in here with me?” he jokes and takes a seat by me.
“We would have to do some cleaning up to do, but I think it could work.” I say and he faces me, blue eyes sparkling. Thinking (again) if they only sparkle at me I smile. His lips get closer to mine and he kisses me for the millionth time.
“Thank you.” He says and a smile that shows his words slips to his lips.
“What exactly are you thankful for?” I ask and he smiles wider.
“A lot of things.” He says and I lay down on the couch, putting my legs across his lap. He shifts so that he is lying by my side and lays an arm around the edge of my hip, his fingers playing with the hem of my dress.
“Like what things?” I ask, repeating my last question practically.
“Well, you didn’t pull your hand away that first day I met you, and you let me hang you off of a cliff.” He says and I laugh at the cliff part. Turning to face him I realize that we are extremely close. I keep turning though, because I don’t want to be awkward and turn back around. Chest to chest, neither of us back away from one another and Adam’s hand still lies where it did before.
“Don’t remind me.” I say, referring to the cliff part. He laughs and I ask again, “What else?”
“You also have heard more about me then most and have had no real judgments and when I cried like a baby you kissed my tears away, not looking at me different afterwards.” he says, something new glowing in his eyes, something I haven’t seen before. Is it remembrance of good times?
“You said I love you back.” he whispers and I close my eyes. “And the first day I met you, you never asked why those guys were going to beat me up.” He laughs and I smile again at his words words. “Thank you for not being normal.” He whispers and I can feel his breath on my neck which is warm and scented with the smell of mint.
My eyes remained closed, and I breathe slowly. “No problem.” I whisper back and Adam is a few millimeters away from my lips when I open my eyes finally. I demolish those millimeters and kiss him. I don’t stop until I can here my name called from the bottom of the tree we are perched in.
“Nichole!” my mother’s voice floats into the wooden house and I get up, straightening my dress of wrinkles left by Adam’s hands on my back and waist. I walk over to the doorway and lay down so that my head is propped, looking down on my mom.
“Yes?” I ask. She holds her stomach and slouches with visible pain.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling so well. Do you think it would be ok if I were to leave?” she asks. Sweat beads on her forehead, tumbling over small rolls of wrinkles that are caused from her eyebrows being raised. I know that she wouldn’t be asking my permission if she didn’t know that this means a lot to me. She must be in some real pain. I climb down the steps and when I do Adam rushes down after me.
“Yeah, of course it’s ok; do you need a ride home? Are you ok? What happened?” I ask a million questions in a line of sentences crushed together in a ramble that stutters out of my mouth all at once.
“Wait? What, Nichole, relax. It’s just cramps.” She says and shudders with a silent forcefulness. “You can’t drive a stick shift.” My mom says, replying to one of my many questions.
“You need to get to the doctor.” I say, grabbing my mom’s arm and starting to usher her out of the party and to the line of cars. This isn’t just cramps.
Adam follows, holding my mom up by her opposite arm. We slope down the driveway to see that our car is blocked in. At the moment that doesn’t matter because my mom voices the reminder that my dad has the keys.
“We can take my truck.” Adam says and we all nod simultaneously. We start to walk towards his car that’s parked down the street (because he was smart and knew that there would be a problem such as ours with parking). My mom shudders again with pain. We try to keep our pace, walking quickly between her shudders and I time them, fifteen minutes apart, ten minutes apart. I don’t notice what they truly are until we open the door to Adam’s truck and I turn to see that my mom has peed on the concrete, but it isn’t pee.

Her water has broken.



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