Having someone to do things with is nice, don’t get me wrong. But sharing your life with someone is more than doing things with them. It’s allowing them to see where you lapse and make up for your weaknesses. And it’s having the strength to make up for their weaknesses, too.
Today is Jett’s first birthday.
Beau has been up since five in the morning, despite our limited guests not arriving until eleven. We’re back at my house, having the party in my yard, making use of the pear tree by tying balloons off to random branches.
Beau was so into planning this party, and I was so into watching how into it he was.
He cared about the edges of the invitation being rounded, what type of food we had (“getting a bunch of food for a baby’s party that the baby can’t even eat is just cruel”), and… well, you name it, he cared about it.
I love him so much for it, too, because I know it’s all coming from his love for Jett.
Jett plays with Goldie, who has been living a great life having my house almost completely to herself most of the time. The nights that Beau sleeps over are her “treat myself” nights; she holes up in her room with what looks to be one hundred dollars in facial supplies, Chinese take-out, mochi for after, and a new movie queued on her Apple TV. I haven’t asked her if she’s feeling better or stronger because she never seemed bad or weak. But I do notice that being here without her PR job has made her a little listless.
She’s got a few interviews lined up for some virtual jobs, and she’s also got an appointment with a leasing agent for a small apartment above the deli in town. Whatever she was going through, she’s coming out on the other side of it, I can see.
The truth is, she could stay with me forever because I know if the roles were reversed—and they were not so long ago—she would offer the same.
Beau bustles through the door now at eight-forty-five in the morning, bag handles lining his forearms. “I got everything in one trip,” he boasts proudly, knocking the door shut with his foot. He turns to face Goldie and Jett near the hall.
“Jetpack!” And with that, he shimmies free from all the bags, leaving a mess of groceries on the floor. Running to Jett, he lifts him up, above his own head and yells, “happy birthday, buddy!”
The two of them have always been material for women’s masturbation, I can’t deny that. But lately, they’ve grown their bond and seeing my baby boy looking so much… older and bigger… and seeking out Beau like he would a father. Swap ‘bating material for “get me on my back and put a baby in me now” material. Seriously.
“I got everything you asked me to get,” Beau tells Jett who walks slowly and very stumbly alongside him after he lowers him back down. Jett started walking three weeks ago and he’s getting so good. It makes me teary nearly every time I see it.
Beau, too.
Goldie hops up from the floor, dusting off her butt as she helps me with the bags. “What did he ask you for?” she asks, playing along.
“Strawberry donuts, s’mores donut holes, pineapple spears, sweet cream coffee creamer, cinnamon rolls with cream cheese icing, and grapes.”
Goldie frowns, one hand holding a cantaloupe and the other a bag of baby carrots. “Where’s all that stuff? How come the bags I’m unpacking are all healthy?” she whines.
Beau nods to the bags I have as he slides down to the floor with his back against the kitchen wall, long legs outstretched, hooked at the ankle. Jett receives a puff snack from Goldie, and carries it back to Beau, shoving it into his mouth with a “here” attached.
Beau nods, thanking him.
“So, can I ask who likes all that stuff?” I hold up a box of s’mores flavored donut holes, and he frowns.
“First of all, who doesn’t like flavored donuts?”
Goldie nods enthusiastically, straining her neck to peer into my bags.
“I love junk food. I especially love donuts, and my favorite kind is Reese’s.” She stares at Beau like she is attempting to pass some test where she wins and earns the location of the sweets as her reward. I dig around in the bag and retrieve the long, thin box of strawberry donuts. They do look good. I pass them to her, but Beau claps once loudly when she tries to open the box.
“Goldie Hawn Berry, those are for the party.” His eyes are serious as he tips his head at her, very much like a mom scolding a child.
Goldie slides the box back to me. “Fine, I’ll wait.” She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles.
“I got things that our guests like and one thing just for Jett.”
Goldie nods to the pineapple spears. “Who loves pineapple?”
“Atticus,” Beau responds. “And the s’mores donut holes are for Delane, the strawberry donuts are for Tobias, the sweet cream coffee creamer is for Miller, the grapes are for Nancy, and the cinnamon rolls are for Jett. I had one on my first birthday. I thought he should try one, too.”
“Geez,” Goldie says, flopping down at the kitchen table as she helps herself to a handful of chips. “You remember what everyone likes?”
“I didn’t used to before, but now I’m trying,” he says simply before pushing off the floor and getting to his feet. Shoving the brown hair off his face with his hand, he smiles. “Okay, gotta set up the canopy, the table for the food, and then put up the ball pit.”