I don’t like to remember the morning I left New York for many reasons. The engagement ring on my finger was now more of a fidget toy, anxiously pacing back and forth from the hospital waiting room. A familiar woman’s voice calls out my name from the entrance of the doctor offices.
“Jennifer Ann Castro?” the woman said. I looked at the doctor, taking in a deep breath before entering the door. After a minor walk to her office, she closes the door behind us, telling me to make myself comfortable.
“Should I be concerned that you’re not here with your fiancé?” my Aunt Gabby questioned, putting on a pair of latex gloves on.
“He has his own thing going on.”
“I would’ve thought being with you would be more important than anything,” Gabby spat back. No one in my family knew about Cullen’s condition. As the months passed, I’ve began to keep his condition a secret to avoid all of the pity grief that comes with it. Plus, it was hard to have to juggle all of that with a person that was slowly dying.
Aunt Gabby typed away on her computer before she said anything back to me. “How’s the moving going?”
“Such a jump in topic,” I pointed out, laying back on the exam table, lifting up my shirt to expose my abdomen.
“Your mom has been pretty hush about it,” Aunt Gabby admitted, preparing the sonogram machine. The gel felt cold against my skin. “I know she has a lot going on right now, but–“
“She’s not happy that I’m moving,” I spat out, ripping the band-aid off. “But it’s what’s best for Cullen and I.”
“She just worries about you moving so far away from home,” she commented. Aunt Gabby was the eldest of four, and is the voice for all of her sisters. In a sense, I can relate; I feel like since Maryette’s been away at school, I’ve been the voice for my youngest sister, Mollie. Seeing your parents get a divorce only hurts the first time around.
“I know, but it’s best if Cullen stays close to his family,” I reassured myself more than my aunt at the point. I look at the screen, seeing nothing but emptiness in the scan. I know there wasn’t anything there, and it hurt me knowing that something may never get to be in there.
Aunt Gabby sighs before she spoke. “Well, everything looks good, nothing to be concerned with regarding implantation,” she spoke as she looked at the screen. “Typically those who are looking into IVF have issues with fertility, but you seem to be perfectly fine.”
I now sit up, looking at Aunt Gabby. “But what if the couple aren’t able to conceive for other medical reasons?” She looked at me, trying to figure out the motive behind my question. I figured she’d be more accepting of it considering it’s her profession.
“It depends on who has the medical issues,” she answered. I swallowed hard, not knowing where to go with this. Thankfully, a knock is heard on the door and one of the medical assistants open the door.
“Dr. Perkins, your 12:30 appointment is ready when you are.”
“Thanks, I’ll get her in a few,” Aunt Gabby answered with a smile before turning back around toward me. She handed me a couple of paper towels to rub the gel off of my stomach.
“Pep.” I looked up at my aunt whose expression seems to be more concerning than endearing. “I’ve known you all of your life; I know when you’re bottling things up inside and I also know that it’s not going to be good when it all overflows.”
I simply smiled at her. “I’m fine, Aunt Gabby.”
…
“Pep?” Mollie said, still half asleep on Milo’s bed. Milo’s in the other corner of the room, waking his son up as well.
“Hey,” I smiled as I said. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she answered, rubbing her eyes with her fists. I looked over at Milo and his son as he put on his glasses. The resemblance to Milo is uncanny.
“That’s good,” I said, helping her get out of the covers. “It was really nice of you to let Mollie sleep in your bed for the night.” Milo smiled as his son shyly hid his face behind his father. Also like Milo when he was a kid.
“I can bring Mollie back to your mom’s place if you’re busy today–“
“No no, it’s fine,” I protested, getting myself together. “You probably have tons to do today anyway.”
“I–“
“Can Milo come over to our house?” Mollie asked me.
“You guys just spent the whole day together yesterday–“
“Yeah but when this happened and we didn’t get to do all the fun stuff we planned!” I looked at Milo trying to keep his composure.
“Mol–“
“Milo can go if it’s okay with Lydia,” Milo intervened. I looked at him, not amused of his answer. “It will also allow me to get some of my errands done as well.”
“See! Milo said it was okay, please can Milo–“
“Okay, okay,” I said, throwing my arms up in defeat. “I’ll let mom know that Milo’s coming over.” Both the kids jumped up in a burst of energy, now getting themselves ready for the day.
…
“Milo’s happy that he gets this time to spend with Mollie,” Milo said as we sat outside at a table to a luncheon place. I sipped my glass of wine, appreciating the drink after what has been a couple of rough weeks being back in New York.
“They are truly best friends,” I added, smiling at Milo. “They remind me of us when we were their age.” Milo scoffed, leaning in his seat.
“Can’t lie, but Mollie has so many of your mannerisms that every time she came to hang out with Milo, it was… painful.” I scrunched my eyebrows, having this be the first time to hear Milo say that out loud.
“Painful?”
“Meaning it was hard to not think of you when Mollie was around,” he explained. “It was like looking at a snapshot of our lives when life was nothing but playing in the park all summer.” I remember those summers with Milo. He spent a lot of them with my family since his parents traveled a lot for business. Of course when we became teenagers and Milo was born, most of those days became just memories. I sometimes mourn that life before it changed. Before we changed.
I looked at Milo and saw the kid version; the one who was really shy and hid underneath a beanie, not saying a word to anyone besides his closest friends. The one that had an imagination like nobody else; the one who confined in me for every little thing growing up because he knew I would protect him. The one who showed up at my mom’s house with his son, just a couple of weeks old after Gwen died.
I smiled at him. He looked at me with a perplexed look.
“What?”
“Do you wish to ever go back?” I began to ask. “Back to being a kid?” Milo seemed confused about where this was even coming from. He cleared his throat before saying anything.
“I wouldn’t have Milo if I wished to be a kid again–“
“Not to change anything,” I pointed out, holding my hands out toward him. “Just to relive the moments when we didn’t have so much to think about.”
“Of course. If I could just go to the beach without having to watch Milo go in the water, or just build a sandcastle without interruptions, that would be great.” I smiled at Milo and immediately backed my chair away from the table. Milo looks up at me, clearly confused.
“Let’s go.”
“Go where?” He asked.
“To the beach,” I excitedly said, grabbing my things. Milo still seemed be confused since he still was sitting at the table.
“Today? Right now?” Milo questioned. I nodded my head and smiled. “Pep, we don’t even have swimsuits or anything with us to go to the beach—”
“So? We didn’t have anything as kids either. The only difference is we’re adults now and have free will to do whatever the fuck we want.” Milo kept looking at me, seeming uncertain about the spontaneity of the plans. “Don’t you want to have one day where you can just be you?”
“But—”
“No,” I sternly said, scrunching my eyebrows together. “We’ve lost so much time caught up in the bad things that we totally forgot what it was like to just be free.” The bus that runs through our neighborhood to the subway train had just passed us. We’re going to make up for long time, Milo. I grabbed Milo by the hand and dragged him out from his seat, running down the block.
“Pep, what are you—”
“The bus is just 3 minutes away from the next stop, let’s go!” I shouted, finally letting Milo’s hand go. I start laughing as I ran, enjoying myself for the first time in god knows how long. To my surprise, I look back and see Milo still running too, smiling and laughing as well.
“Oh my God, we’re not going to make it—”
“Yes we are! This isn’t new to us!” We both ran as fast as we could down the city blocks, just how we used to when we were younger. The wind went through my short, curly hair as Milo’s braids kept bouncing as he ran.
“Come on, Milo! Keep up!”
“I’m…trying to!” Milo said as he ran out of breath. I turned around to look at him quickly, flashing a smile. Who I saw running behind me was kid Milo, the Milo I haven’t seen since we were kids.
Letters From Liz. 