boxes and squares #4.5: home is wherever you are, part 2

October 2088. Jordan Graham is 28, Felix and Milo are 9, Colette Marin is 31, Maria Boone is 26, Johanna is 4, Lou Corelli is 29.



With Maria on the train and dashing back to her daughter, Jordan had a date to keep of his own. He told the boys he’d be a little late for their usual 4:00 chat.

“Hey guys, I’m here now.” In the background of their image, the normally sterile counters were cluttered with pans and bowls. “Oh, hey, did your mom cook?”



“She tried to make mac and cheese,” Milo said. “But the water kept bubbling over and she almost burnt the kitchen down, so she got really mad and dumped it all down the sink. But then it clogged the drain, and now she has to call a plumber. You should have seen the veins in her head.”

“Oh, no. So what did you eat for dinner?”

“Pizza again,” Milo said. “It’s okay, we like pizza.”

“Ok. Well, sorry I was late. I had a visit from a friend. She just got on the train.”

“Was it Maria?”



“Wait, what? How did you know?”

“Because she’s your best friend. She said so, but she said it kind of funny. And you said she took a train, so it must have been kind of far.”

These boys were too smart.

“Right. She is my best friend.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Felix asked.




Instant paralysis. “Where’s your mom?” Jordan scanned the background of the video for Colette. He suspected that she often listened in on these calls. And sure, these conversations would have to happen someday, but he wasn’t ready to deal with that now, especially when apparently her veins were already popping out of her head today.

“She’s taking a bath. She said she needed self care.”

Relief.

“Okay,” Jordan said. “What do you boys know about girlfriends?”



“It’s like, kissing and holding hands and stuff,” Felix said.

“Felix wants Lily to be his girlfriend,” Milo tattled.

“Shut up, no I don’t, you idiot.”

“Felix, no name calling,” Jordan said.

“And Connor had a girlfriend last year. It was Bianca, except she said he wasn’t her boyfriend. But we saw them kissing during recess.”

“Kissing, in fourth grade?”




“Dad! They weren’t in fourth grade, they were in fifth. But now they went to middle school this year. They’re like eleven already.”

“Of course. Eleven.” Jordan felt so old. “But you don’t have to kiss someone just because everybody else is.”

“Was mom the first girl you kissed?” Milo asked.

“Um, no, it was somebody else.”

“How old were you?” Felix asked.



“I was, uh, fifteen,” Jordan said.

Felix cackled. “Ha ha, that’s so old. I better get to kiss someone before I’m fifteen.”

“It’s not a race.”

“Were you a dork in middle school?”

“Ha. Maybe I was.”



“That’s why,” Felix said, nodding sagely. “Dorks don’t get kissed until high school.”

Jordan was hoping this side track into middle school romantic gossip might make them forget their question, but no, it didn’t.

“So, is she? Your girlfriend?”



“This is the kind of thing I should probably tell your mom first,” Jordan said. “Does that make sense? It’s the right thing to do.”

“So, she is then?”

“You know your mom and I never got married, right?”

“Yeah, we know.”

“How do you feel about me having a girlfriend?”



“I don’t know,” Milo said. “It’s kind of weird. But I guess she’s nice.”

“She’s very nice. Felix, what do you think?”

“I never really talked to her before,” Felix said. “I don’t know if she’s nice.”

“You can talk to her sometime if you want,” Jordan said. “Soon. We’ll all spend some time together soon.”

“I guess we could.”



“Your mom is still in the bath?”

They nodded.

“Are you sure? Make sure.”

Felix elbowed his brother in the ribs and Milo crept up the stairs and then back down. “Yeah,” he confirmed.

“Okay,” Jordan said. “Yes, Maria is my girlfriend.”




“Oh, okay,” they both said, sitting in that new truth for a moment.

And then, thankfully, they had other things to talk about. Very exciting things. Like how Connor McCullough got suspended for pranking the school toilets, and how the new Voidcritter movies were kind of dumb, but they watched them all three times anyway, and did he know there was a skate park being built at the harbor? And when he comes back in December, could he take them there? Please, please, please?

“A thousand percent, yes,” Jordan promised. “No matter how cold, even if there’s snow.”






They were smart and getting so big. They could walk themselves to the bus stop and pour their own cereal and didn’t need to be reminded to wash behind their ears most of the time. But they weren’t done with their dad. Jordan wasn’t even done with his own dad at twenty-two. And this was special, what they had, him and his boys. Colette had her role, and he wouldn’t call it an unimportant one, but he couldn’t imagine her holding space for them, being open for them, talking with them like he did. Maybe it was a boy thing. Which meant that his leaving left an immense void, and were these video chats good enough to fill that void?

Life was a seesaw—one thing goes up and another thing hits the ground. In one hand an answer and the other hand a quagmire. You might need it all, but you can’t have it all, and there’s the tragedy. Something precious will be lost, and what will it be?




You have to feed your kids better, but no rules say you have to cook it yourself. We can’t all be that kind of mom. So tonight, on your way home from a grueling day at work, you drop $400 on prepared meals at this gourmet market. You feel valiant that you support local businesses! And your boys will be served very expensive vegetables tonight—prosciutto-wrapped asparagus—and they will hate it, refuse to eat it, and beg you for pizza anyway. So you also pick up a basic spaghetti and meatballs, because you’re not stupid. And you’re not a bad mom, you tell yourself. Or at least, not the worst one. Not the absolute worst one. Right?





Maria’s overnight train arrived home at an unreasonable hour of the morning, so she wouldn’t dare bother anyone for a ride and called a cab instead. The home she returned to was cold, drab, and damp with crisp, chilly rain that taunted snow. Late October in Wisconsin, snow would come day now. Maria already missed the sunshine of Nevada and the warm arms of her love she left behind there.

She crept inside the quiet house. This cozy rental where she raised her baby, became a widow, cried and grieved and stressed, dreamed of a new lover and then finally won his heart. So much life had happened here in this house, and now her life would happen elsewhere. It felt strange, exciting, and a little scary.




Lou would have to leave for work in a few hours, so Maria wouldn’t disturb her. Her sister was not pleasant to wake up too early, anyway. So Maria went to share her glee with Johanna instead.

“Good morning, my little monkey.”

“Mama’s home,” Johanna cooed sleepily.

“Do you want to go on the biggest adventure of your life?”

Of course she did. She was four. She didn’t know any better as long as she had her mommy. As long as she would have ice cream and playgrounds, hugs when she was sad, Band-Aids when she scraped a knee, and new things to explore when she was bored.

And he would fix the solar panel so she could watch her cartoons sometimes and cool her milk in the fridge. That was all a little girl needed, and that was what he promised.



Maria had a stiff neck and she hadn’t gotten much quality rest on the train, so she stole the few inches of mattress next to Johanna and slept another couple of hours.



Properly morning now, Maria came down to cook breakfast in her spacious kitchen. She couldn’t say she had no worries about this. Jordan’s outdoor camp kitchen was fun for its novelty, but what about when bugs swarmed their dinner for the hundredth time? What about when she craved a long hot shower, but could only have a short lukewarm one? And how did he suppose they would share any intimate time together when their bedroom had a curtain for a wall and no door? If she had any doubts about this, it was that she wouldn’t love this lifestyle as much as he hoped, and he would be heartbroken if it came to that.

But it was worth trying. She was going to try. It was like he said, what if they tried it and it was amazing? What if it was incredible? How could they pass up that chance?

With the smell of warm, sweet pancakes filling the house, Lou and Johanna came down for breakfast.



Everyone settled into their breakfast, and Maria announced to her sister, “He loves me.”

Lou smirked. “Welp, here we go. Can’t say I didn’t see this coming.”

“I mean, I kind of already knew he loved me, but it’s good to hear it out loud.”

Lou nodded, unmoved, never one to fawn over grand romantic gestures.

“So, that’s not all,” Maria continued, “Considering we’re both madly in love with each other, we talked it out last night. JoJo and I, we’re going out to Nevada to be with him.”

“For how long this time?”

Maria shrugged. “Until the end of time?”

Lou stopped chewing. “What? You mean, like, permanently? Like quit your job and everything? Getting an apartment together?”



“I, uh, don’t think so about the apartment,” Maria said. “I don’t think he wants to live in an apartment still.”

“Wait…” Lou was dumbstruck, shaking her head. “Maria, what are you doing? Moving in with someone is a big deal. You said that.”

“I did say that. And It is a big deal.”

“But we hardly know this guy. I only saw him once for a couple minutes on a video.”

“You will know him, eventually. He’s great, Lou. You’ll meet him someday and you’ll see.”

“What if he breaks up with you?”

“He won’t break up with me. He promised.”



“Oh, come on!” Lou rolled her eyes. “Like nobody’s ever broken that promise before! I know you’re not that naïve.”

Maria was starting to feel like a dumb little girl, shrugging her shoulders. “But I believe him.”

“And moving into his camper with your kid! You said it was broken.”

“He’s going to fix it.”

“Let me guess, he promised that, too?”

“Auntie Lou,” Johanna said, “we’re going on an adventure, do you want to come?”

“I, uh, I have to work, kiddo.”



“It just sounds so… I’m not trying to be mean… stupid as fuck.”

“Tender ears at the table,” Maria said.

“Yeah, are you considering her in all this?”

“But we can’t go until my tooth comes out,” Johanna continued, “because what if I’m camping and the tooth fairy can’t find me?”

“Oh, don’t worry, monkey. I’m sure the tooth fairy will find you,” Maria said.

“Are you pulling her out of preschool? To live in a camper with your boyfriend?”

“Maybe it sounds stupid,” Maria said. “But I know how we feel, I know how real this is. And I’m not being irresponsible. This place is leased until February, in case things go wrong. But Lou, I don’t want things to go wrong.”



Lou was still in shock. “We never got to have our girls night.”

“I’m sorry. We’ll have our girls night soon. It’s not like we’ll never be back to visit. He likes to travel, and his kids live here. We’ll be back plenty. We’ll be back in December. That’s only six weeks away.”

Maria understood now, the opposition, the disappointment on her sister’s face. Didn’t she feel the same when when Jordan first told her that he was leaving? That desperate wish that everything would just stay the same. But things don’t stay the same forever.

“I guess… I just never thought about you moving away,” Lou said.

“Never? I used to be a military wife.”

“But that was so long ago, and he ended up assigned to a space thing, so you couldn’t go, and well, you know.”

“I know.”

“Have you told Mom and Dad?”



“No, because I’m a grown woman and I don’t need their permission.”

“Or because you know they’ll try to talk you out of it?”

“Are you going to try to talk me out of it?”

“You wouldn’t listen if I tried.”

Little Johanna looked back and forth between the two of them, sensing only the tension and not understanding the meaning of it. Then, in their tense standoff, Johanna offered her own sage advice. “Mama, you said you always gotta tell your mama things.”



“I did say that,” Maria said. “And it’s true. I will absolutely tell my mom… when the time is right.”

With everyone’s opinions laid out on the table, raw as they may be, the three of them finished their pancakes in silence. Maria had been so swept up in the romance of it all, so deeply immersed in the necessity of it all, that she hadn’t realized how it would look to everyone else. How could she explain herself when it seemed like it looked pretty stupid?





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