We were at Cold Stone Creamery.
"Isn't it nice to know that you don't have to keep faking it all the time, Mom," said Tammy as we all sat in a booth in the far corner.
Although the weather was warming, the creamery was empty. I wasn't complaining. My kids couldn't keep their voices down even if I paid them to. Especially not now. Not with this much excitement in the air. After our talk a few hours ago, it had been Anthony who suggested we all go get ice cream. No surprise there. The kid was literally eating me out of house and home.
Interestingly, just in the past two hours, the kids were getting along better. And not just getting along but being - and get this - friendly toward each other. At one point, Anthony suggested to Tammy that she try the Snickers on her ice cream, and she actually did. She didn't tell him to mind his own business. She didn't ignore him. She didn't tell him he was stupid and looked funny. She said, "Sure."
I stood there in amazement, watching the scene play out. Tammy then nudged Anthony and pointed to a big stain on the worker's apron and they both giggled.
Together.
Granted, they were laughing at someone else, but at least they were getting along.
Baby steps.
I considered Tammy's question as I sat with the two of them. I was drinking from a water bottle and chewing gum. The gum was nice. It only gave me the smallest of stomach cramps - no doubt from the trace ingredients in the flavor - but it was nice to chew and drink and look like a real mom. I said to Tammy, "Yes. It is a relief, actually."
"You don't have to keep pretending to eat or to have stomach aches," said Anthony.
"At least, not around you two," I said.
"Or Daddy," said Anthony.
"I don't eat with Daddy anymore."
"Oh, right."
Tammy was eating her ice cream thoughtfully. "But when we are around other people..."
"Yes, I will still have to pretend to eat, or pretend that I'm full, or pretend that I have a tummy ache."
She nodded thoughtfully. Somewhere through all of this, my daughter had seriously grown up. Having access to others' minds might have something to do with that. Or maybe it was realizing that her mother was the mother of all freaks, too.
"Remember, what I am," I said to them again, "is a secret."
"We knoooooow," said Anthony, laying his head on the table. "You told us like a Brazilian times."
"Bazillion," Tammy corrected. "Brazil is a state."
"Country," I said.
"Whatever," she said. "The point is, we all have secrets now. We should make a pact."
"What's a pact?" asked Anthony.
I waited for his sister to ridicule his question, or, at least, to roll her eyes at his simplicity. She didn't. Instead, she surprised me again by turning to him and saying patiently, "It means we all agree to something forever."
"Forever?" said Anthony, blinking. "But mom's a mimmortal."