Chapter Fourteen Mo
Chapter Fourteen
Mo
Mo wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Standing outside of the Grey Ghost restaurant in Midtown, he slid them into his front pockets, but after less than a minute, he took them out to wipe his palms on the outside of his jeans. He wanted to greet Jess and walk in together, so he’d gotten there a little early.
He took a glance inside, running his hand down his beard, then he heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, Mo.”
He turned around and smiled as Jess took the last two steps to reach him. He smiled back.
“Hey, Jess,” he said. She looked beautiful, wearing a red dress with what Maddie would call a “swishy skirt,” and her hair was in a high ponytail, the end of it resting on her shoulder. He realized he’d never seen her in a dress or a skirt.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Wrong?”
“Your expression changed. You looked shocked. Is everything okay?” Usually confident Jess actually looked self-conscious.
“I’ve never seen you in a dress before,” he said.
“And you don’t like it,” she said, deflating a little.
He decided to be a little daring.
“You look beautiful,” he said, leaning down and kissing her cheek. To his great surprise, she blushed.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
“You hungry?” he asked.
She nodded. He tipped his head toward the door. Surprising him again, she slipped her hand around his arm and squeezed. Taking a deep breath for courage, he was happy to catch a whiff of vanilla. He bent his elbow, leaned toward Jess, and took another deep breath, enjoying her perfume as they walked inside.
As the hostess took them to their table, Jess looked around, admiring. She smiled at him as they sat down.
“Nice choice, Mo,” she said, opening her menu.
“You think? I thought about finding something closer, but Khalil recommended it. He said they’re known for their gourmet sandwiches and burgers. Figured it would be a good place to try.”
“Gourmet sandwiches?” Jess asked. “I’m curious to see what that’s about.” She studied her menu a moment. “And you’ve never been here before?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Don’t come to Midtown very often,” he said.
“I think I’ve been twice? Maybe,” she said. “But I’m glad you chose a place that we could discover together.” She gave him a broad smile, and he felt all tingly.
“Me too,” he said. He was also quite happy that the place wasn’t very busy. There were five or six people seated at the bar and maybe ten total in the large section they were in, partitioned by a half-wall.
As the waiter left with their orders, including the signature Reuben sandwich and a Wagyu truffle burger, a group of people walked in. Then another, then another. Jess looked over her shoulder then back at Mo.
“I wonder what that’s about?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. It almost looked like a tour bus had let out with the way they were streaming in the door. The decibel level in the room went up dramatically; the people were in high spirits and had no problem expressing it. The waiter returned with the tomato soup and beet salad they’d chosen as appetizers. Mo focused on his soup. The first few mouthfuls helped, but when he glanced up at Jess to ask about her salad, she was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you okay?” Jess asked.
He felt bad because he’d let himself get distracted from her.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” she said.
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re stroking your beard,” she said.
Mo stopped midstroke.
“Yes, I was, but is there a reason I shouldn’t?” he asked, lowering his hand to rest on the table.
“Maybe I’m wrong, but I think you touch your beard when you’re uncomfortable,” she said. “When you’re anxious or dealing with feelings you don’t want to show, you reach for your beard. Stroking, scratching, smoothing. I noticed it in the first meeting. And with that woman at your shop. It’s your ‘tell,’ I think.”
Mo was dumbfounded. He was so shocked he’d stopped breathing and his body’s demand for air forced him to take a breath, which pushed him back into himself.
“I…” He needed another breath. “I don’t even know I’m doing it sometimes. You noticed that?” he asked.
Jess shrugged.
“Kind of,” she said. “Unfortunately, with the Faire, there have been opportunities for you to be uncomfortable. And when you kind of apologized if you weren’t talkative in your truck, I remembered that you’d done it right before you offered me a ride. It looked like you were going to pull it off your face. Which would be terribly unfortunate.”
At first, Mo couldn’t do anything but blink.
“What do you mean?” he finally asked.
Jess chuckled and waved him closer. He leaned toward her.
“The beard really works for you,” she whispered.
“Oh,” he said, leaning back as she had. He hadn’t planned on shaving his beard anytime soon, but if Jess liked it, it sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere. “I won’t shave it.”
“Good,” she said, smiling. He wasn’t sure what to do or to say next, so he scooped another spoonful of soup. It was halfway to his mouth when a collective shout erupted from the large group of people. He jumped, the spoonful of soup sloshing back into his bowl. The group started singing, and Mo’s skin felt too tight.
Jess had jumped as well, but instead of looking at the group as Mo had, she was looking at him.
“You know,” she said, catching his attention. “I’m pretty good. This salad was surprisingly filling, I don’t think I’ll be able to eat my entrée.”
Mo looked at her plate. She’d only eaten about half, and she’d said she was hungry when she arrived.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
The group started clapping along to their song, and the sound set his teeth on edge.
“Yeah, why don’t we ask the waiter for doggie bags and get out of here?” Jess sat up straighter and turned in her seat, looking for the waiter.
“Jess,” Mo said.
“Hmm?” she asked, still looking.
The restaurant had excellent acoustics for reflecting sharp sounds off the wall and concentrating them where most of the diners were eating, including Mo and Jess.
“Jess?”
She looked at him.
“Do you really want to go, or do you think I want to go?” he asked.
She looked him up and down, tilting her head a little.
“Both,” she said.
“We can stay if you want,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something different on account of me.”
“I think—” The group cheered again, cutting her off. She glared at them then turned back to Mo. “I think that’s what you’re used to doing. Sucking it up for the comfort or happiness of other people when sensory input is overloading you. Your body, your mind is just tuned that way. You aren’t choosing that. I’m not okay with the idea of you tolerating something that harms you on account of me.”
Mo’s heart was going a mile a minute. She’d used some very specific language. It went beyond “You don’t like being around a lot of people.” Or, “You don’t like loud environments.” It was more targeted, almost medical.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
She resettled in her seat, squaring her shoulders. She seemed to be bracing herself.
“I hope it’s okay with you that I did some research. You said that you’re a Highly Sensitive Person, and I wanted to learn about it so I’d be able to respect your needs,” she said. “I reviewed my notes before I came tonight.”
Her face was suddenly blurry. The noise from the other patrons that had been stabbing into his ears, back, and shoulders vanished in an instant. That she would take the time to research HSPs, to take notes and study them…He felt like his throat was in a vise.
“Mo, I’m so sorry, I crossed the line,” she said suddenly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I didn’t mean to upset—”
“No,” he choked out. “No.” He shook his head. He squeezed her hand. “It means—” He paused to clear his throat. “It means a lot that you wanted to learn more and took the time to find out.”
She squeezed his hand back, smiling at him.
—
Outside, with the rest of their dinner in to-go boxes, Mo walked Jess to her car. The sound of cars in the street, and the few people they passed who were speaking at a normal volume, let the tension he’d been holding ease away. So much so that he began to regret the fact that leaving meant the end of the date. As they reached her car, he spoke up.
“I hate having to end early,” he said.
“Me too, but maybe…Maybe we can do something else?” she asked.
Good idea, but what else? It was their first date, so he didn’t want to suggest going back to his place. He didn’t ever want her to feel like he would pressure her into anything physical. Not only was that disrespectful, but he would feel her distress in his own body.
“Wait,” he said, getting an idea. He pulled out his phone to confirm that they weren’t too far from Beacon Park. He didn’t know if they had benches, but he did have an old army surplus blanket in the toolbox of his truck.
“Up for a picnic?” he asked her.
She laughed.
“Sure,” she said.
—
Arriving at Beacon Park, they took a moment to find parking, but once they had, he tucked the blanket under his arm and they walked in, finding a suitable spot. The sun had set, but the sky wasn’t dark yet. There was a band playing on the small stage, but they were far enough away for it to only be agreeable background noise.
“Quick thinking,” she said as they settled in.
“Thanks,” he said. “Maddie and I came here for one of Khalil’s fundraising events a while back.”
“Fundraising?” she asked, picking up her Reuben sandwich.
“Yeah, I complain about him talking too much or being too sociable, but it has its benefits. Works quite well for him in his barbershops. He also volunteers with a youth basketball team and the Boys and Girls Clubs. They do community events a lot, and he is excellent at getting business sponsors.”
She raised her eyebrows as she finished her bite.
“I imagine that you’re one of those sponsors,” she said.
He shrugged.
“It’s important.” He took a bite of his hamburger. Drawing attention to any financial contributions he made always made him skin-burningly self-conscious. That had been a key source of discomfort concerning the thank-you banquet. He had started to feel a little tight in the chest thinking about it when Jess reached out and ran a finger along the edge of his beard. His heart truly started pounding.
“So, Khalil’s the one who keeps you looking so sharp,” she said. She winked at him.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat.
“Did Maddie have fun at the event here?” she asked, taking another bite of her sandwich.
“Oh yeah, a blast. They had a rock-climbing wall, races, all sorts of stuff she adores. She was so tired she fell asleep on the way home.”
“Sounds like she’s an active girl—young lady. You said she’s twelve, right?”
Mo nodded. Finishing his bite, he wished he had something to drink.
“She’s still a little girl to me, but it’s clear we’re entering adolescence. A little too much attitude, moments where she’ll cry at the drop of a hat. But apparently that’s normal, that’s what all the books say.”
“The books?” Jess asked.
“Yeah, I’ve switched from the ones about childhood development to the ones about the teenage years. I don’t want to get caught unawares.”
“You read books about childhood development?” she asked.
“Um…yeah. I want to be a good parent,” he said. He started to worry that he’d said something wrong.
Jess reached out and squeezed the hand he was leaning on.
“You are a good parent, Mo,” she said softly. “Most parents don’t do that.”
“Oh,” he said. He felt his cheeks getting warm again. “Thanks.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, and Mo had another urge to drink something. He noticed a little concession stand near the stage.
“Do you mind if I leave you here for a second?” he asked.
“No, why?” she asked.
“I’m parched. I’m going to grab something to drink.” He pointed out the stand to her. “What would you like?”
She smiled.
“A coke or some other pop. Thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
He stood up, then realized he was about to leave a woman alone in a park at night.
“Wait,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself. Don’t know who could be around.”
“And you don’t think that if push came to shove, I could handle it?” she asked, smirking.
“Oh, I’m sure you could. I’d feel sorry for the idiot who tried to mess with you. But I don’t want ‘push’ to have a chance to come to ‘shove.’?”
“Okay, Mo, I appreciate it,” she said, standing. “I’ll go. What do you want?”
“Same,” he said. “Any pop. Here.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket to give her some money. She waved him off.
“You got dinner, I can get drinks.”
Mo didn’t want to make her pay for anything, but at the same time this was Jess, and she might not like it if he pushed.
“Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”
He sat back down as Jess walked away. In the quiet, he realized how much he’d been talking. It had been quite a lot, but he wasn’t drained like he normally was. He was out on a date with a woman he enjoyed being with, and who wanted to understand him better. She literally researched how his mind works. That thought made him a little jittery again. No one had taken the time to learn about his HSP until it became a problem for them. She’d looked into it so she could avoid problems. Jess was attractive, intelligent, confident, and thoughtful. And she was interested in him? He hoped he could rise to the challenge. Then she was back.
“Hey,” she said as she got close.
“Hey,” he stood up, and she handed him a paper cup.
“That one’s a Cherry Coke and this one is regular. Do you like cherry?” she asked.
“I do, but you can have it if you like it,” he said.
“Not necessarily. I took a guess.” She smiled at him as she got comfortable on the blanket again.
He smiled back but realized he hadn’t said anything about the blanket.
“Sorry about the blanket. I know it itches,” he said.
She waved a hand like she was swatting a fly.
“Do not worry at all. I’m impressed that you were equipped for a surprise picnic.” She picked up her sandwich and took another bite. “It sounds like you’re a great dad,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind my asking about it, but you were married to Maddie’s mom, right?”
He nodded; his mouth was full.
“It just didn’t work out?” she asked.
He nodded again and swallowed quickly.
“We’re better off as friends,” he said. “We co-parent well, so that’s the most important thing.”
“It is,” Jess said. “You know, I don’t want to put the cart before the horse or anything, but if we do continue dating, I won’t ask you to meet Maddie for at least six months.”
“No?” he asked. “Why six months?”
“From what I’ve read, that’s the recommended time frame. I think it’s to make sure that you and I are compatible so that Maddie doesn’t have strangers coming in and out of her life.” She wiggled her straw around in her cup before having some more.
Mo wasn’t sure how to respond. He hadn’t thought to date, so he hadn’t looked it up. But if she’d researched his HSP, it made sense that she’d research dating a parent. He smiled.
“Thank you for being concerned about her well-being,” he said.
“Of course.”
“It’s kind of you to think about my family. I’d like to ask about yours,” he said. Jess still had a pleasant expression, but it seemed like her eyes tightened for a flash. “But I…I feel like it might be uncomfortable for you.”
She looked away momentarily, then squeezed his hand again.
“Thank you, Mo. I appreciate it. I’ve never had a good relationship with my parents. I was much closer to my sister. But now…” She sighed. “Now it’s best that they live in Illinois, and I live here. I’ll tell you more another day?”
He let himself run a hand down her arm.
“Sure thing,” he said.
She smiled at him.
“Tell me about blacksmithing,” she said. “When I read about sensory overload for HSPs, I was surprised. Blacksmithing seems like a really loud hobby. Have you been doing it long?”
He wiped his mouth and shrugged.
“Pretty much since I quit rowing. But I really wanted to do it. Took me some time to get acclimated to the noise and the smells. Now those specific noises and smells are reminders of accomplishment, so they don’t get to me.”
“Rowing?”
Mo held in his grimace. He hadn’t meant to mention that.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “I went to college for it. UM Ann Arbor.”
Jess studied him. He told himself not to blush.
“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” she asked.
He shrugged. Rowing was difficult to remember.
“I was injured at the wrong time,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow.
“A lumbar injury will take you out for several months. I hurt myself bad right before the Olympic trials. Four years earlier I’d been an alternate; that year was my opportunity to actually row in the Games.”
“I’m sorry, what ?” Jess asked. “Are you telling me that you were an Olympic athlete?”
He shrugged again.
“I guess technically?” he said.
“Do I have to google you, Mo?” she asked.
He chuckled in spite of his nerves.
“Okay, Doug,” he said.
She laughed as she fished her phone out of her purse.
“Mo Sarda rowing?” she asked.
“Mohammed,” he said.
“Thank you for the precision,” she said, typing on her screen. She was silent a moment, and Mo braced himself. He could tell that some results had come up but couldn’t see what she tapped open. Her head snapped up and she gawked at him.
“Excuse me, Mr. ‘New Hope for the Sport,’?” she said. “Mr. ‘UM rower favorite for the Games.’ That’s an amazing accomplishment. Why did you seem embarrassed about this?” she asked.
He sighed. He tried to think of a good way to explain it, but he remembered Maddie telling him to talk like he talked to her. He took a quick sip of his drink.
“Two things,” he said. He couldn’t bring himself to look directly at her. “One, it took me a long time to get over losing my chance. Just thinking about the sport hurt. And two, I was a complete asshole back then. Quick to anger, harsh with people. Judgmental. I didn’t know that I was an HSP back then, and I was forcing myself to try to live like everybody else. I was constantly worn out by the overstimulation and didn’t know how to compensate. I understand myself better today but I’m not proud of who I was back then, so I avoid thinking about it. It was better to bury the whole subject.”
Jess had leaned closer to him to listen. He hadn’t meant to speak quietly, but that tended to happen with things he didn’t want to talk about. He glanced at her as she sat back.
“I understand,” she said. She put her phone back in her purse, picked up her drink, and took a sip. He waited for the additional questions that always came when rowing came up. She put her drink back down.
“That was a very colorful necklace of Maddie’s that fell out of your truck the other day. Did she make it?” she asked.
Mo wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.
“You…you don’t want to ask me anything else about rowing?” he asked.
“No,” she said, drinking again.
He was a little off-kilter. Any time it came up, he was inundated with questions until he felt like he was going to drown. It must have shown on his face. She turned to face him completely.
“That subject will never come up between us again. You said it hurts. I’d hazard a guess that if you’re willing to say that, it means the subject cuts deep enough to cause you physical pain. It seems like HSPs need to maintain wider boundaries than other people, and I want to respect yours. So unless you feel like saying something, I’ll never mention it. Never refer to it,” she said. “And I’m not going to talk about it with a soul.”
He wasn’t sure how to describe what he felt. It was big and warm, and it filled him from head to toe.
“Thank you, Jess,” he said softly.
“You’re welcome, Mo.” She turned a little to watch the band playing in the distance.