The weather was mild and cool for July. Especially in Stuttgart, where the heat wave hadn't hit yet. Nicky smiled, enjoying the breeze as he sat on a log under a tree.
The playground was bustling and crowded. The children were playing, running, shouting, laughing, and smiling.
Nicky gently bit his lip, worried, and stood up to approach the swing where the little boy was swinging alone, far from the others.
“Don’t you want to join them, Andrew?” Crouching down in front of the little boy, Nicky smiled, reassuring and encouraging him.
Andrew wasn’t even 5 yet, and yet he looked barely 3. Nicky would have been concerned about his small stature if he hadn’t watched Aaron grow up.
The little boy gently shook his head. Nicky wasn’t discouraged, though.
“Do you want me to push you on the swing?” Andrew shook his head and climbed down from the swing. Nicky suppressed his disappointment. Today wouldn’t be the day his cousin—18 years his junior—would make friends.
“Okay. Let’s go home. Do you want to hold my hand?” Andrew nodded, slipping his little hand into Nicky’s.
Nicky felt a wave of warmth and joy as they left the park together.
“Erik made an apple strudel—would you like a slice for snack time?” The little hand squeezing his a little tighter and the slight nod were enough.
It had been barely four months since Nicky and Erik had adopted Andrew. And only five since they’d discovered he existed.
At just 23 years old, the two men had never thought they’d one day have the chance to be parents. Until Tilda Minyard.
Tilda Minyard, née Hemmick, was born eight months before Nicky. It was an unexpected birth for a couple who already had a 20-year-old son who had just gotten married.
Tilda was his aunt, but Nicky never saw her that way. She was his cousin. His friend. Even though his father didn’t want Nicky to see her.
When Tilda got engaged to Arthur Minyard, Nicky sent her a congratulatory letter from Stuttgart. That same evening, they spoke on the phone. Tilda was happy. And Nicky was relieved to know that his little aunt was with a good man.
When Arthur called off the engagement, Nicky didn’t understand right away. It took him nine months to figure it out. Nine months before Tilda called him, in tears, asking for help.
Nicky and Erik had taken the first flight out right after that. A few hours later, they met Aaron. One month old.
Tilda hadn’t told him anything, but Nicky knew. Aaron wasn’t Arthur’s son. Yet she had given him his last name.
Nicky and Erik had been involved in Aaron’s upbringing, traveling to the U.S. as often as possible to give Tilda—who was suffering from severe postpartum depression—some relief. They loved being there. Aaron was adorable. He even called them “Uncle Nicky and Erik.”
They thought they’d be content with that role for the rest of their lives, since adoption for same-sex couples takes months or even years. That’s what they thought.
“You and Erik would make wonderful parents.” Nicky smiled at her gratefully, not expecting to hear something so lovely on his wedding day. In his arms, four-year-old Aaron was fast asleep after doing a wonderful job as the flower boy.
“Thanks, Til. We’d love to have some if we could. Preferably one just as cute as Aaron.” Nicky was joking, but when he saw the pain and regret in his young aunt’s eyes, he wondered what she seemed to be holding back from telling him.
He didn’t find out until he returned from his honeymoon, when, lying next to his husband, Nicky received a call from Tilda.
“There were two of them, Nicky. They were twins. I gave one up.” Nicky was in shock.
„Bist du dir sicher, mein Schatz?
You see all the flowers in the weeds
You're scared of the dark when you sleep
You cover up your arms with your sleeves
Even in hundred-degree heat
Your father was awfully mean
Your favorite color is green
It reminds you of the summer you turned three
Runnin' through sprinklers on your street
- Summer Child, Conan Gray
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What if Nicky was way much older than the cousins and had adopted them ?
