By Maria Padhila
I know I can go it alone. It’s not that I need to see that there are people like me out there. But it sure makes you feel good to see it once in a while.
Like the other night. I was watching a web series on the computer, and saw a woman cuddled up with her boyfriend — soon to be her husband — on the couch, on New Year’s Eve. They were talking about her other boyfriend, who was out partying, having his idea of fun. They preferred staying home. They talked about him a little bit, speculating on what a good time he was having. Then she sighed and rested her head on his leg. “I love him so much,” she said. “I know,” he said, smiling down at her. And they both dozed off.
A few nights before, I’d been going out with Isaac and Chris to a party. I’d been so busy with other things — mostly dealing with our daughter — that I hadn’t had time to make my costume. I was sticking myself in the ass with safety pins, trying to turn myself into a naughty Santa’s elf, while I remembered that I had to call my friend and let her know we were heading over, and I wanted to make sure Chris had something to eat, and did Isaac have his ticket? And I didn’t have my makeup on yet. I had promised that I’d be ready in 10 minutes, but as Chris had snarked, “that was a lot longer than 10 minutes.” Isaac was staying remarkably calm in the face of my dithering, helping with the safety pins and then, at Chris’s suggestion, actually stapling the fake fur to my costume while I was wearing it, which, surprisingly, worked really well.
When we got outside, Chris decided to take his own car rather than ride with us. As Isaac and I set off, I was grumping about how if Chris was so worried about the time, he should have just taken his own car and left earlier, why was he being all like that, he seemed like he was mad at me, etc. I looked at Isaac at a stoplight, and he smiled and said: “He loves you. Anyone can see that. He’s not mad at you.”