Nathan was six years old when we met. He was hiding behind his dad’s leg on our third date. He had big eyes and skinny legs. Of course, Richard had said that he had a son, but seeing this little hurt kid changed something inside me.

Something about his eyes made them wary, like when someone walks away and never looks back. That’s not something a kid should know.

In a soft voice, Richard told Nathan, “This is Victoria. She’s the woman I told you about.”

I got down on my knees and smiled at him. “Hi Nathan. Your father knows that you like t-rex. “I brought you something.” I gave him a small gift bag with a geology book inside.

I didn’t give him a toy because I wanted him to know I cared about him as a person, not just as a kid. The man didn’t smile as he took the bag.

 

After that, Richard told me that Nathan slept for weeks with that book under his pillow.

That was the start of my friendship with him. The kid needed to be stable, and I knew how to deal with him.

I didn’t rush things or try to force love. When Richard asked me to marry him six months later, I made sure to also ask Nathan’s approval.

“Is it okay if I live with you guys and marry your dad?” I asked him that question one afternoon as we baked cookies with chocolate chips.

While licking batter off of a spoon, he gave this some real thought. “If you’re my stepmom, will you still help me bake cookies?”

I said, “Every Saturday.” That promise was still kept, even when he was a teen and said cookies were “for kids.”

Nathan’s real mother had been gone for two years when Richard and I got married. There will be no birthday presents or calls. There was only a huge hole that a six-year-old couldn’t fill.

I never tried to make that hole go away. I made my own place in his life instead.

I was there with him on his first day of second grade, holding his Star Wars backpack and looking scared. When he was in fifth grade, he built a bridge out of popsicle sticks that could hold more weight than any other in his class. Because it hurt so much at the middle school dance when his crush danced with someone else.

Richard and I never had our own kids. We talked about it, but the time never seemed right. And to be honest, Nathan brought so much love and energy into our home that it could have fit a family twice our size.

As time went on, the three of us fell into our own rhythm. We made rituals and inside jokes that tied us together and made us feel like family.

“You’re not my real mom,” Nathan told me during a fight when he was 13 and I was punishing him for skipping school. The words were meant to hurt, and they did.

I held back tears as I said, “No.” “But I’m really here.”

A rough “sorry” note was slid under my door the next morning after he slammed his bedroom door.

 

After that, we didn’t talk about it again, but something changed between us. It was like we both knew what we were to each other. We knew that we were tied together not by blood but by something we picked every day. Something that words couldn’t describe.

Our world fell apart when Richard died of a sudden stroke five years ago. He was only 53 years old.

Nathan was getting ready to start college at that time. I will always remember the look on his face when he found out that his dad was dead.

“What will happen next?” His voice was soft, like the six-year-old I met the first time he asked. He asked, “Will you stay?” Are you still going to be my family?

I squeezed his hand and said, “Let’s figure it out together.” “Our relationship doesn’t change.”

It didn’t work. I helped him deal with his sadness while I dealt with my own.

I paid for his college application fee, went to his college graduation, and helped him buy work clothes when he got his first job.

I took care of his son just like Richard would have.

Nathan gave me a small satin box on the day he graduated. There was a metal necklace inside with the word “Strength” on it.

“You never tried to pick someone else,” he said with bright eyes. “You loved me anyway, you just showed up.”

That necklace was on me all the time after that. Such as the day of his wedding.

The wedding took place in a beautiful vineyard with lots of white flowers and great lighting. Like always, I got there early. In peace. Simple. I wore Nathan’s collar and my best dress.

There was a small gift box in my bag with silver cufflinks that said, “The boy I raised.” The man I look up to.

I was looking at the flower arrangements when Melissa came up to me.

The woman Nathan is going to marry, I’d met before. She looked great and did great things. An oral health professional whose teeth are white and her family is even better. Dad and Mom are still married after thirty years. Three brothers who lived not more than twenty miles apart. Every Sunday, the family has dinner.

She gave me an air kiss on the cheek and said, “Victoria.” “You look beautiful.”

I smiled and said, “Thank you.” I was really glad to see her. “Everything looks lovely.” I bet you’re excited.

Melissa said “yes,” quickly looked around, and then leaned in closer. Even though she kept her smile and polite voice, something in her eyes had become harder.

She said in a soft voice, “Just a quick note.” “Only real moms should sit in the front row.” I trust you get it.

I wasn’t ready for that. Not at all.

At that moment, the shame made me suddenly aware of the wedding planner standing nearby and acting like she wasn’t there. Someone in Melissa’s bridal party even stopped moving when she heard those words.

No one spoke up for me.

It was possible for me to make a scene, but I chose not to. I didn’t want to mess up Nathan’s wedding.

“Of course,” I said softly, my voice calm even though I felt like I was shaking inside. “I get it.”

I didn’t feel like I had any respect as I walked to the back row with the present in my lap like an anchor, fighting tears that were going to ruin my perfectly put-on makeup. I told myself that today wasn’t about me. It was about Nathan beginning a new life.

As more people came in and filled the rows between us, I could feel the space between each empty seat. It hurt that after seventeen years of fevers in the middle of the night, school help, soccer games, and heartbreaks, she was now just called “not a real mom.”

As people stood up and craned their necks toward the door, I stood up too. Nathan’s time had come. I wouldn’t let my sadness get in the way of his happiness.

The minister and the guys walked up to the altar and took their places. Nathan then showed up at the end of the aisle. It hurt my throat to see how much he looked like Richard. Richard would have been so happy.

Nathan moved forward. Then another.

I remembered the boy who used to run down soccer fields while I watched and clapped. He had the same familiar confidence in his step.

Then, for some reason, he stopped.

Even though the music kept going, Nathan stood still in the middle of the aisle. The minister made a soft “come on” motion, but Nathan didn’t move.

He turned instead. Slowly. Choosing to. Moving from front to back, he looked at the rows of people who were sitting down.

Until he found me.

He said, “I need to do something before I get married.” Someone stepped in when no one else would have, and that’s why I’m here today.

There were murmurs in the crowd. I could feel the weight of odd looks. Nathan purposefully walked right to the back, past Melissa’s parents, who were confused. This made my heart pound in my ribs.

Myself.

He stood in front of me with tears still in his eyes. He then put out his hand.

“You’re not coming in from behind,” he said. “You are the one who raised me.” You chose to stay. He took a deep breath and then said the words I never thought I’d hear.

“Mom, lead me down the aisle.”

Mom.

He hadn’t called me that in seventeen years. Not once.

There were gasps all over the room. Someone’s camera went off. As I stood up to take his hand, I felt dizzy and my legs shook.

I asked Nathan in a low voice, “Are you sure?”

He got a tighter hold on my hand. “I’m sure of everything now more than ever.”

So, we walked down that aisle together. Every step felt normal and amazing at the same time. I had raised this boy. I helped make this man.

Nathan did something else strange at the altar. He got a chair from the front row and set it next to his.

He told her, “You sit here.” “Where you belong.”

I tried to see Melissa’s face through my tears. As I sat down in the front row, she smiled fake smile and didn’t say anything.

After a moving pause, the minister cleared his throat and said, “Now that everyone who matters is here…” When should we start?”

Everything went well with the wedding. I cried happy tears as Nathan and Melissa said their vows. I hoped they would have a life as full of meaning as the one Richard and I had.

At the party, Nathan raised his glass to make the first toast. The room became quiet.

“To the woman who didn’t give birth to me but still made me live.”

Everyone in the room got up and cheered. Yes, even Melissa’s family. Even Melissa herself, who looked at me and gave me what looked like a sincere nod of respect.

After that, Nathan led me onto the dance floor for what would have been Richard’s dance with Nathan. I could almost feel my husband’s hand on my shoulder.

As Nathan and I danced to the music, I told him, “Your dad would be so proud of you.”

Nathan said, “He’d be proud of us both.” “There’s something I want you to know.” He moved back and looked me straight in the eyes. “Many people have come and gone from my life.” You, on the other hand, stayed. A mother is not made of blood. “Love does.”

People who try to make you feel less important in someone’s life don’t always understand how close you’ve become. The times of peace. The everyday days that, when put together, form an unbreakable link.

There are also times when the people you’ve loved quietly and strongly year after year surprise you. They can see you. They remember.

They turn around when the time is right.

This work is based on real people and events, but it has been made up for artistic reasons. To protect privacy and make the story better, names, characters, and circumstances have been changed. Any similarity to real people, living or dead, or real events is completely accidental and not on purpose by the author.

thecelebritist.com is the source.