The calm was terrifying. 

In the morning, after a night of heavy rain, waking up to near perfect silence is terrifying. I can’t believe I’m still alive. I can’t believe the house is still standing. Every breath that I take is like a dare. And then, to get out of bed and feel the floor not crumble under my feet, it’s a nightmare. 

That’s what it was like to wake up the morning after I came home. Where was the destruction? Where was the pain? Instinct told me not to let my guard down. No matter how peaceful it all seemed, it had to be an illusion. And as I made my way downstairs, the peaceful glow of morning light spilling in through the shades was no help. 

Only when I found myself in the kitchen did the dissonance finally end. Like a street sign that had been blown through the house only to plant itself in the tile floor, Cindy was at the refrigerator. When her eyes met mine, I knew the storm had been more than a dream, more than a nightmare. I couldn’t escape the aftermath.

“You’re getting married?” 

“You want stability, you want to know that me and Tom are serious. We’re not leaving one another.”

“And you think getting married proves that?”

“Once we’re married, things will be official. All the things that we’ve left in the air will come down.”

“Like what?”

“What Malcolm calls me.” 

We sat together at the kitchen table while morning washed over the world. Colors transitioned from the darkest blues into golden hues so calmly around us.

In our vulnerable state, Cindy wearing her pink morning gown and me in my pajamas were exposed. With only empty mugs between us acting as our defenses, the coffee hadn’t even been brewed yet to give us something to sip between bitter thoughts.

And that silence remained, only lessened gradually by the brewing of a dark roast on the counter.

No one else was awake. No one was going to interrupt us. We may well have been the only living people at that hour. Of course, that’s only how it felt. Tom was hiding just down a hall, listening to our every word. River was outside choosing not to walk into the house while Cindy and I spoke. Even Malcolm was awake, but he was quiet that morning after having wet the bed.

Regardless, Cindy and I had the kitchen to ourselves.

“I dated Tommy too. I know his heart. He holds onto whatever feels right for as long as possible, but there are no guarantees. What he holds onto may not be what he wants. I see how happy he is around you, but I don’t think any man or woman will ever be enough. Not forever.”

“Then it’s a good thing he has us both.”

I tried to lighten the mood, but nothing could cut through the tension.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Cindy asked. 

“Because I want your permission. I left. I ran away for two weeks without a word of warning, and I know you must hate me for it,” I said.

“I don’t hate you. I don’t hate what you are, or what you do. I’m scared of everything changing my son. If you stay, he has to grow up as the boy with two dads. If you go, he has to grow up feeling abandoned by someone else. No matter what you do, it’s going to change his life.”

“But do you want me here?”

The sound of a floorboard creaking came from somewhere nearby. I’m sure Cindy heard it, too. We knew we weren’t alone anymore, if we had been at all. 

She told me, “If you stay, I need you to make me a promise.”

“What kind of promise?”

“If you stay, you stay for good. No running away, no threatening to leave. Not for me, but for Malcolm. Promise to always be there for Malcolm and we can make this work.”

Malcolm suddenly walked by with bed sheets in hand. When he saw me and his mom, he hurriedly ran in the opposite direction. It was hard to ignore him scurrying away when I picked up the scent of urine. Even harder when I saw just how embarrassed the kid was to be caught. Cindy stood up before I could give her an answer, and Meathead came into the kitchen just as quickly, asking, “What are you two doing up so early?” 

The anxiety on his face was poorly hidden. 

“We were just getting breakfast started,” I said. 

“Together?” He asked, and Cindy told him “We’re trying something new.”

It took River another ten minutes before he came into the house. By then, he had picked up the morning newspaper, gotten soaked by the sprinklers, and hit on one of our neighbors. And in his underwear, no less. 

I guess we were all having a fresh but stuttered start.