Last night was Project Runway marathon with the R-L’s. It’s amazing how being with certain people truly make life better. P was busy with work, so it was just C and their daughter SV. We went to dinner (I was supposed to cook, but I wimped out) and then came home and got ready to watch the show. Right when we were finishing bitching about how hard life has been of late, a nock came at the door. We both jumped and looked at each other. It was getting close to nine, so no one should be knocking. My door doesn’t have a peep hole, so that makes things difficult. We knew we couldn’t hide that we were there. We hadn’t been whispering, all the lights where on, and Dolan was at the door growling at whoever was on the other side (Dunkyn, of course, fled to the kitchen, as he is terrified of anything that might come through the front door—unless its me). I have stopped answering the door if I don’t know who it is—too many times I have opened the door to either see someone I really didn’t want to see or ended up having to give money to some cause (How do you say, ‘No, I don’t want to give money to the rape crisis line’, or ‘Nah, let the kids starve’?). By the third round of knocking C and my hearts were pounding and we were chittering and screaming like five year old girls at a slumber party (which, we kinda were). Finally, C got brave enough to peer out the bedroom window, trying to see whoever was on the porch without them seeing her. Turned out to be her husband, P. His phone had died, so he couldn’t call. Laughing hysterically, we let in an un-amused P who failed to see the hilarity or the necessity of letting someone stand at the door and knock (I told him that he now knows how Jesus feels—I’m sure there was a time when I wasn’t sacrilegious, but I don’t seem to remember). The fear and hilarity only added to the enjoyment of the evening.
There was only one part of the night that was difficult (it’s still Brandon’s blog, you knew it was coming). SV just turned four, and she is my second favorite child in the world (Gavin being number one, of course). She is the most creative, precocious, intelligent, and linguistic child I have ever met. Toward the middle of dinner, she looks at me and asked, “Brandon, is Chad going to be at home?”
My breath caught, but I only took a moment before I was able to respond. She loved Chad, but it has been almost six months, so I thought her four year old mind had probably dismissed him. Apparently not. I told her that he was at his home. She asked what his home was like, and I was able to tell her how pretty it was and how he was happy there. She nodded after a moment, and then moved onto another topic. C gave me a supportive and concerned smile.
After a only a few minutes of breaking down in the restroom, I was able to pull myself back together and return to dinner and one of my dearest friends and her gorgeous daughter, and find reasons to laugh. All the while wondering myself if Chad would ever be home again.
Black Coffee Tables
1 year ago