Page 50 of Forgotten
Ash doesn’t need to think twice. “Yes,” he says.
I move to stand on top of the carpet. I was right, it is the warmest and softest thing ever.
It’s windy outside, and for a while I stare out of the rooflight at the blue sky. The clouds are chasing each other wildly. Were Ash and I that quick too? Getting together, adopting Winnie and disappearing behind the horizon? Happy ever after?
So many questions but I can’t bring myself to ask any of them. I should know. I was there.
“Are you making breakfast?” I ask instead, smelling the air. My stomach grumbles, recognising the only thing Ash can cook successfully: French toast.
Ash shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts, kicking an imaginary stone with his socked feet.
“Your dad will be here soon. Finish exploring and come down?”
It’s not like Ash to sound uncertain, and I hate being the person who cannot give him the stability he deserves right now. I’m supposed to be his family, fuck’s sake. Great. Just great.
???
When I meet Ash in the kitchen, there’s four plates on the table and toast is sizzling on the stove, and it’s all too real. Ash and I have a child. And I can’t keep ignoring the toys scattered everywhere, the lunch box in the fridge, the lingering smell of Winnie in the house.
Ash shoots a smile in my direction that makes my knees go weak. “We have the check-up tomorrow at 8:00 a.m.,” he reminds me and it’s not just my check-up. It’s our check-up. Because we’re a team, a couple. A family.
Ash doesn’t have to think about it twice.
When Dad arrives with Winnie we all settle at the breakfast table. Winnie is placed in a high chair and she turns to me expectantly.
“Wonderful, you got here just in time!” Ash serves two slices of toast each, and then he meets my eyes. With a wink, he drops three on my plate. Yes. I love French toast.
But Winnie is still staring at me.
“You usually prepare her food,” Ash says, sitting down, “She hates the way I cut stuff, for some reason. Just cut tiny squares of bread and add butter and fruit. She’s got no allergies.”
Ash gives me the instructions, passing over the butter and an apple. Then, he holds out a pink plastic plate to me. I take it and I stare at the little unicorns on it. Are baby things usually this adorable?
I feel all eyes on me and I see Ash, my dad and Winnie are now staring at me.
“App’l!” Winnie shrieks excitedly and Ash gives me an encouraging smile.
“Right-o, apple.”
I get to work, transferring a toast on the plastic plate. I cut the toast in four pieces and then in sixteen. I chop the apple as tiny as I can and I sprinkle some of it over the toast with some butter. Winnie is babbling to herself, her little fist closing and opening around nothing. When I’m done, I place the plate in front of Winnie and she inspects the food for a minute before digging in with her hands. Half the apples fall down as she chews on the toast. I go to pick them up but she’s already on it, chasing every little piece with her small hands.
“App’l. Pol, Apol’,” Winnie babbles on, happy with her food.
“One day I will teach you how to make a proper English breakfast, Ash. Beans and all,” my dad says.
Wrinkling his nose, Ash shakes his head. “No, thank you. I will never do such a thing.”
I fight a chuckle, knowing well how much of a picky eater Ash is.
Grabbing the fork, I start eating without looking away from Winnie. She’s gorgeous, with a pink bow around her head and matching pink overalls. Her dark curly hair is parted in four quadrants and tied in short twists. Around her wrist there’s a gold chain with something engraved on it that I probably don’t remember. I bet the Ford I was in 2024 would know what is written on his daughter’s bracelet. This Ford, however, has no idea. Winnie catches my eyes and gives me a wide smile that I can’t help but return in full. My heart aches with something new, and I don’t feel so hungry anymore. I push the food around my plate a bit more while I study Winnie and I listen to my dad and Ash make casual, familiar conversation about the neighbour and a lady named Kirsty.
When everyone is done and Ash stands to gather the plates, I stand too.
“Let me,” I offer, needing to feel useful.
“You go spend some time with Winnie, Ash,” my dad says. He helps me clear the table and together we move to the kitchen.
Ash nods and lifts Winnie up, “Okay, I will go ring Sadaf then.”
