The Best Thing

by Mariana Zapata

“Meet you there in thirty,” he agreed a second before hanging up, not waiting for me to confirm thirty was good and not bothering to say bye. He never did. He said the b-word sounded too final. That and I think he just liked hanging up on people.

She was my seven-pound, eight-ounce surprise when she’d been born. The instant love of my life. The best thing I ever did.

Mo was here, and even though I had never, ever seen myself as a mom… and I had no idea what the hell I was doing seven-eighths of the time and was terrified because I didn’t, she was mine. And I wasn’t going to fuck up. I’d had the best example of a parent figure growing up, and I wasn’t about to let her down.

I was not going to waste my life being pissed off at someone. I had better shit to do. People didn’t give enough credit to what not giving a fuck could do for you. It was freedom.

If you wanted something, you could get it using sugar, but if you used a little vinegar too, sometimes it worked better.

When life throws bad shit at you, you dodge it and throw whatever you can right back.

“Mate, you keep raising your voice, and we’re going to have a problem.”

“Are you still mad at me?” I asked an hour and a half later as I drove us down the street after… everything. Jonah’s laugh was more of a puff when he answered with, “No, love. I was never mad.” I bit the inside of my cheek and forced myself to keep my eyes straight on the road. “You weren’t mad when I was crying laughing then?”

You do whatever you have to do for the people you love.

“I don’t ask you to lunch because I want to just see Mo. I want to see you too. I want to be your friend again. I want to be more than your friend. I want to be more than any other friend you’ve ever had before or ever will.”

“I was under the impression that if someone wanted to see you, they would tell you where they were staying.” Shots fired.

“Baby Mo,” the most handsome man I had ever known said quietly, tenderness hugging every syllable. “This is your grandmother, your gran, look, darling. Look.” He’d called her his darling.

“Do I need to start looking up homes for people with memory impairments?” Grandpa Gus stood there and shook his head slowly, even reaching for his heart. “After everything I’ve done for you….”

Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve. One of my coaches had told me once that those were the most pointless set of words in the world. But you learn to live with them, you learn from them, or you let them weigh you down for life.

“Look, I get it. I’m not what any mom would want for her precious baby.” His laugh cut off immediately and so did the smile on his face. “Yeah, nah, Len. Why do you say things like that?” I felt my lips drop out of the smile they’d been in. “You’re smart, and you’re so damn funny.” I’d swear his eyes twinkled. “I could look at you all day, if it was possible.” I shut the hell up.

The bras hanging off the doorknobs of my closet were a nice touch too, I thought, knowing there was no way to miss the giant bra cups. And that was where his gaze went straight for. I’d swear on my life that his eyes moved down to my boobs for a second. And I’d swear on my life too that his Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at them. They’d always been big, and had only gotten bigger with Mo, even if she’d decided a couple months ago that she was too good for breast milk. Was this kinky bastard…. “Are you staring at my boobs?” His gaze flicked back up, eyes wide. “No,” he spat out before pausing, shaking his head and giving me the start of a bashful smile. “All right, yes.” Well, well, well.

It’s easy for people to love you when you’re doing things for them, when they get something out of it. But it isn’t so easy to find people who will still love you when you’re down and need help getting up. That’s when you really find out who’s with you for the right reasons.

That little jealous asshole. I loved it.

“We outgrow clothes the same way we outgrow people, Len. We change inside the same way we do outside.”

“It means that it isn’t that I love him because I don’t want to love you. It’s that I know him, and I can’t help it.”

Jonah was already smiling when his hands went to the doorframe, the sigh that came out of him so deep I raised my eyebrows at him. “What?” His dimples popped, and his voice was quiet as he said, “I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to see you in bed like this again.” “I didn’t think you would either,” I told him honestly, then patted the half of the bed beside me. “Only if you want though. There’s the guest bedroom too, if you would rather—” He groaned. “The day I would rather sleep alone than with you….” His arms dropped from the doorway as he took a couple steps inside then paused. “Do you close your door?” I smiled. “Not unless I have a reason to.” Those honey-colored eyes settled on me, and I could see his cheeks puff in and out with the breaths he took. “Would you like me to close it?” Under the blankets, I scrunched my toes. “The day I tell you not to close it….”

“Because I wanted to give you a chance to be whoever you wanted to be. Do whatever you wanted to do. All I want, Lenny, is for you to be happy, because that’s what matters to me at the end of the day. That’s what I lose sleep over; that’s what I will always lose sleep over. I want you to be happy in whatever way that is, being yourself the whole time. Do you understand me?”

The old fart rolled his eyes even as he smiled. “Maio House is our family business, Len. You, Mo, you two are our family legacy.” Oh hell. Oh bloody hell.

“And who the hell says you’re leaving us behind? Jonah invited us to come along too. My bag has been packed for weeks.”

I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t going to cry. The hand holding my right one gave it a squeeze a second before Jonah, knowing exactly what was going through my head like he always did, whispered, “You’re not going to cry.” Damn it. I pressed my lips together and stared out at the endless turquoise water in front of us, making my eyes go wide so that they wouldn’t backstab me and do something I had promised myself—and Grandpa Gus—I wouldn’t do. I wasn’t going to cry, damn it. I wasn’t.

I’d swear I could still hear the way the ordained minister had asked my creature of ancient evil if he took Peter as his lawfully wedded husband, and how he’d answered, “I guess so” with his trademark little smirk before his face had sobered and he’d added, “Yes. For the rest of my life.”

“Dear everyone,” Jonah read. “Fuck you—wait.” Beside me, Marcus snorted this watery noise, but I looked up at Jonah to figure out what the hell he was reading. Sure enough, the lines across his forehead were wrinkled in confusion as those beautiful eyes moved across the sheet of paper… but it was the slow smile that crept across his face that surprised me. And the tear that bubbled up in the corner of my husband’s eye that he wiped off with a big index finger before saying, with laughter and pain in his voice, “He wrote in parentheses to point randomly around and say fuck you, point at someone else and say fuck you, and do that at least eight times.”

Hold on for me. Fight for me, or like I’m behind you telling you that you better not quit

Do what you have to do to be happy, okay? No one else is going to do it for you.”