Even her kids and I get along great. They’re really great kids. She takes good care of them.
They’re well-behaved and smart but also curious and friendly. It’s the perfect combination. We’re like a real little family.
I feel myself bonding with them. I think they’re bonding with me too. We’re having a great time together, honestly.
It feels weird to admit, but this is one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. I feel so happy and content with Sara by my side. Maybe pretending to have this good of a relationship is having a real positive effect on me.
It doesn’t help that I have a crush on Sara either.
I’m sitting in the living room laughing with Aunt Adelaide and some of my other family members when my cousin comes in with a box.
“What do you have there?” I ask.
“Your father’s ashes,” she says. She walks over and hands them to me. “I suppose you might want them.”
I feel like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. I feel my hands shaking as I hold the box. Sara looks at me with concern.
“Oh…” I say, not knowing how to respond.
My cousin huffs. “You’re welcome. You weren’t there in the end, so you have him now.”
The room is silent for what feels like minutes. Or maybe time is just dragging on as my heart races in my chest.
I don’t know why I’m reacting like this. I feel so silly. My father and I weren’t close.
Still, it feels bizarre to hold him in my hands like this. Shouldn’t he be in a coffin? Or at least an urn? This is just a box.
Just a box containing the man who gave me life. I think he regretted doing so when he found out I was a lesbian. I want to feel anger or sadness or something.
But I don’t know what I feel. I just know that it’s overwhelming.
Aunt Adelaide stands up.
“Get out,” she demands icily.
My cousin looks shocked. “What?”
“Get out,” she repeats.
“Aunt Adelaide!” She exclaims. “What do you mean get out? She needed those.”
“You’re being cruel,” Aunt Adelaide says with a flash of anger in her eyes. She takes my cousin by the arm and leads her out of the room. No one stops her.
I can hear that they’re still talking as they make their way out of the room, but I can’t process what they’re saying. Sara takes the box from my hands and gently places it on the table next to us.
I stare at my empty hands, trying to process what’s happened. People around us begin to talk again, wanting to fill the uncomfortable silence.
Sara takes my hands in hers and squeezes them. She gives me a warm smile.
I feel the overwhelming tidal wave of emotions begin to calm. It’s replaced with the comfort that she’s giving me right here in this moment. I smile back.
I realize that I don’t just have a crush on Sara. I love her.
I want to shout it out in the middle of this room, but that would be too much drama and turbulence for one night.
I have to tell her though. I need to tell her that this isn’t a charade any more. I love her.
I love Sara Hamilton.