Chapter 11 #3
He did get my clothes dropped off at the laundry service in Bedford and picked up. While it wasn’t cheap, all of my clothes are the most pristine they’ve been since I arrived in the country. When I unwrapped them, I breathed a literal sigh of relief.
“Chloe’s grandparents talked about getting a paddling pool for their back garden.”
I’m surprised at the door he’s cracked open, and I swish my hands around in the water for a moment while I consider whether it’s truly an opening or a slip of the tongue. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
“Do you see them at all?” I try to keep my tone neutral. Just because I couldn’t imagine not having my parents involved doesn’t mean I can’t comprehend that other people’s parents could be toxic influences.
He’s seen me on video chats enough with my parents that he’ll already know how tight I am with them.
“No,” Ash says, and he doesn’t elaborate.
Joey has now decided that jumping off the side of the pool is actually more fun than the stairs, and we’ve waded through the water to stand in front of him while he jumps, swims to the stairs, and jumps again. Ash sinks into the water so his shoulders are under, and reluctantly, I do the same.
There’s probably a child somewhere in this wading pool peeing even as we speak.
“I’ve seen how close you are to your family. It’s nice.” He shields Chloe’s face when Joey transitions to a cannonball in an attempt to get us all wet. Since he’s so little, the splash doesn’t go far, but it sets Joey and Chloe off on a giggle fest.
“You have a really great group of friends.”
“It’s good for me, yeah.” He swishes Chloe around in the water, and neither of us mentions the deeper family connection his daughter is missing. “Would you want to watch the footie with me and Joey later? If you’re not working . . .”
Saturday afternoons have become the Joey and Ash show on the couch.
The two of them are either shouting at the TV or talking in low voices while Ash explains something that’s happened.
Afterward, if it’s not raining, they go out to the lawn and try some of the fancy footwork or goal-scoring techniques.
Even though I’ve never been into organized sports, having him ask me is a bit like being invited to a secret club, and I’m tempted to say yes. If Joey gets really into soccer, it might be useful information.
“I know absolutely nothing,” I say.
“That’s perfect,” Ash says. “Neither does your son.” A hint of a smile tugs at the edges of his lips. “You can learn together—see who catches onto the offside rule the fastest.”
“Will there be a test? I’ve never been much for competitive sports, but competitive academics? Totally different story.”
“Competitive academics? I reckon you’d be a star at a pub quiz.”
“Now you’re talking my language,” I say.
Joey is climbing out of the pool again when a bigger boy gives him a shove on deck, sending my boy to his knees with a brief cry.
“Oi!” Ash calls to the bigger boy as we both wade over to Joey, who is back on his feet with a trembling chin. “What you doing?”
“Momma,” Joey says, and he steps off the edge of the pool into my arms. I cradle him close and breathe him in.
Whenever he wants me like this, I’m always reminded of how someday he won’t, and it hurts my heart a little.
As long as the days and nights can sometimes be, I’m always conscious that they’re finite as well.
We will not always be like this, and I embrace whatever I can.
Ash wades over to the bigger boy’s mother who seems frazzled by her child who doesn’t appear to be listening to her.
Whatever exchange they have causes a scowl to cross Ash’s face, and then he’s stepping out of the pool with Chloe still in his arms. He crouches in front of the older boy, and the child’s eyes go wide.
Ash is a big man—broad and muscular—the kind who could use his size for intimidation if he wanted to.
Instead, he’s on the boy’s level to make eye contact, and he’s having, what looks like, a strongly worded chat about his behavior.
When Ash rises to his full height again, the boy stares up at him, and Ash gestures for him to return to his mother.
He does without protest, and the mother offers him a grateful smile.
While he makes his way back to me, the mother’s gaze tracks him until he reaches me, and then she flushes when she realizes I’ve caught her.
“I’ll watch soccer with you both later,” I say. “You can teach me everything I need to know.”
Although it might not be wise to encourage more closeness between us, I can’t deny the deeper part of me that wants this connection. Craves it, even.
In the romantic relationships I’ve had, I’ve never longed for a man’s company.
Liked it, sure, but sought it out when it went against my personal interests?
Never. But we’re not in that kind of relationship, so maybe this is what a friendship with a man is like.
Comfortable and easy and brimming with sexual tension that only I feel.
“You’ll love the game.” The dimple appears.
I’m afraid I might end up loving it all a little too much. Much like Joey’s childhood, what’s between me and Ash also has an end date. No harm in soaking this in too. A tiny little unrequited crush is harmless.