29. 2015
Chapter twenty-nine
2015
One week later
Sam
“ W here in the world did I put those navy blue shorts?” I ask as I stand in my boxers, searching one of the packing boxes marked ‘Clothes’ that sit in the living room.
“How should I know?” Mikey replies from the kitchen as he plates his breakfast.
Mikey and I have been home for a month now, and I’m still not unpacked. Boxes are strewn haphazardly across the living room of the small house I bought, stretching into the hallway and taking up space in the kitchen. They are everywhere and probably collecting dust. At this point, I have to chalk it up to pure laziness on my part. “Here they are!” I pull them out and hold them up in the air, victorious.
It’s Saturday, and Mikey and I have wasted no time getting into a routine. Mostly for him, but also for me. And that means dropping off Mikey at baseball practice while Ricky and I meet at the gym to get in a quick game of racquetball.
Moving back home was the best decision. With Erica gone and Mikey getting older, I knew he would need a female influence in his life. Big C and Jasmine moved back two years after Erica passed. For a long time, it was just Mikey and me. Being his sole parent meant not a lot of time for socializing or dating for this dad. Plus, it meant handling everything with my son by myself.
Mikey’s first day of school, all his T-ball games, his concerts at school. All of them I experienced alone. We were getting into a rut, and I was feeling lonely and homesick. Plus, memories of Erica were everywhere. I could tell both of us needed a change, so I found a job as a psychologist for a local hospital, and we moved pretty quick. Now Mikey has my mom and Jasmine. And of course, mom’s thrilled to have us back. If I’m being honest, it has been great for everyone involved.
At one time, Georgia felt like a new beginning for me. But slowly, it morphed into a prison, and I knew it was time to break my son and me free. It sounds so cheesy to say, but there’s no place like home.
“Dad, when are you going to unpack your stuff?” Mikey asks with a mouth full of bacon. “I mean, seriously?”
Okay … so my kid is more organized than me, and his room was unpacked and set up in mere hours after arriving. Sue me.
“I’ll get to it.” I glance up at him, and he’s glaring at me. “Eventually.” I sit the shorts down over the back of one of the barstools and take a sip of my coffee.
“You need a wife,” he says nonchalantly as he takes a bite of his toast.
Coffee sprays out of my mouth and lands on the counter.
“Eww. Gross, Dad. You just spit coffee on my toast.”
“What did you say?” I wipe the coffee off my mouth with the back of my hand.
“You need a wife. Or a girlfriend maybe.” He shrugs, eating his toast with the coffee spray on it. Ten-year-old boys are gross.
“I’m fine, Mikey. I definitely do not need a girlfriend. Or a wife, for that matter.” I grab a paper towel and wipe up my mess. “Trust me.”
There’s a long pause as I clean up the kitchen from our breakfast. He’s watching me, and I can tell he wants to say something. He steps closer to me with purpose. “Even though you and Mom were divorced, and she’s gone, she would have wanted you to be happy, Dad.” The mention of Erica stops me in my tracks. Mikey doesn’t know the whole truth about the circumstances of his mom’s death. He knows about the drinking, of course, but the details of that day I’ve kept close to my chest.
I don’t respond to the mention of his mom. “So, if I did date someone, would that bother you?” I mean, he brought this up. I guess now is as good a time as any to ask this. Realistically, I know that I’m not in any position to start anything with a woman. But also, I’m forty-one years old and not getting any younger. Eventually, the right woman will come along and when that happens, I need to know his thoughts about it.
He shrugs as he steps around me and brings his plate and OJ to the sink. “I mean, it might be strange at first, but I would be cool with it.”
“Really?” I turn to face him.
“I mean, sure. You deserve to be happy, Dad.” My kid is the coolest. I grab him by the back of the neck and pull him in for a hug, kissing him on the top of the head.
“Thanks, kiddo,” I whisper.
He wiggles away. “Okay, that’s enough of that.” I snicker as I rough up his hair.
“Head upstairs and grab your stuff so we can get going.” He runs away to his bedroom as I load the dishwasher and take in the possibility of dating again. To be honest, my last three long relationships didn’t exactly work out well. Cara is the only one that ended on amicable terms.
I wonder what she’s up to these days.
Erica … well, we know what happened there.
Then there’s Maria. The one relationship I would probably still be in if she hadn’t ended. My whole body floods with warmth at the mere thought of her name.
I shake the image of her from my head and shut the dishwasher door. Snatching the shorts from the chair, I walk the short distance to my bedroom to get dressed. And just like the thousands of times before this one, I can’t rid Maria from my thoughts. I’ve been thinking about her more and more lately, due to how I left things in my last email. Something I deeply regret. I was curt and rude to the one person that has always meant the world to me. But in my defense, I was hurting, grieving, and harboring massive amounts of guilt about Erica’s death.
That guilt has faded with time. It doesn’t cloud my thinking every time I think about Mikey’s mom and the good times we did have together. It doesn’t hang over my head every time I look at our son. Therapy helped with a lot of it.
The psychologist sought out a psychologist. Something I should have done a long time ago, if I’m being honest.
He helped me to see that if Maria and I weren’t communicating, Erica would have met the same fate. She was too far gone. The alcohol consumed her. It was her addiction. Just like Maria was mine. We were having a full-blown emotional affair. The guilt may be gone, but I still have regret. What Maria and I were doing wasn’t fair to anyone involved. Her, me, Nate, Erica, and our kids.
Therapy helped me to see that as well.
I grab my gym bag and notice that I’m running a little late. “Come on Mikey! We need to get going. We will tick your coach off if you’re late again!” I yell out as I wait for him by the front door.
As I check my watch again, I wonder if Maria’s kids are in any sports.
I lower my head. Everything in my life, every thought, always circles back to her.
WHACK!
The hollow blue ball slams against the scuffed up white wall in front of Ricky and me. It bounces back and hits the floor, way out of Ricky’s reach. He dives for it, his body hitting the lacquered hardwood with a thud. He rolls over onto his back, his breathing labored. “I’m too old for this.”
I offer my hand to him, and he takes it as I yank him up to his feet. “Good game, man.”
He lets out a snort. “Yeah, good for you. You won again.” A satisfied smile crosses my lips .
We drag our tired, sweaty bodies to the bench that sits against the back wall of the court. I reach into my bag and grab the Gatorade waiting for me, popping open the cap and chugging the ice blue liquid. We sit in silence, our breaths ragged, as we both towel off and attempt to cool down.
Ricky is the first to speak after our breathing is under control. “I forgot to tell you who I saw at the grocery store last week.”
I’m bending at the waist, fishing my street shoes from my bag. “Oh, yeah. Who?”
He stops what he’s doing for a split second, almost as if he’s preparing for my reaction. “Maria.”
The sound of her name snaps me up, and my mouth falls open. “My Maria?”
He smirks. “My Maria? Hmmm … interesting.” He takes a drink of his Gatorade.
“You know what I mean.” I forcefully throw my empty bottle into my bag.
We finish bagging up our stuff and disinfect the bench as we exit the court, the next couple waiting patiently for us to leave. “All yours, man.” Ricky holds the glass door open for the pair. We walk down to the entrance of the gym. “You’re dying to know details, aren’t you?” He lets out an amused hum. His entertainment at my expense is grating on my nerves.
“No.” I lie. I am.
“Liar.” We walk out of the gym and head to his Jeep. He hits the unlock on the key fob as we climb inside. My mind is racing, and Ricky is staying silent, allowing me the time to process this. Suddenly, it’s like I’m back in high school, wanting to know if the girl I like asked about me.
Oh, screw it. I need to know.
He’s sticking the key into the ignition when the question spills out. “Did she ask about me?”
“Oh, aren’t you cute?” He turns to me, fluttering his eyelashes, mocking me.
“Fine. Forget I asked.” I cross my arms over my chest, sulking like a lovesick teenager. And internally hoping he doesn’t forget it.
“Do you want me to pass a note to her in class?” A smug smile plays on his lips. God, he’s loving this way too much .
“Shut up.”
He lets out a long exhale. “Honestly, I’m afraid to tell you what she said.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I know you, Sam.” He starts the Jeep and kicks it into reverse, backing out of the parking spot. He pulls out onto the street when he continues. “You will want to contact her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, trust me, I do know that.” We stop at our first intersection, waiting for the signal to turn green. “She’s divorced.”
Those two words hit me like the truck that passed in front of us. Maria’s single. For the first time since she wrote The Chad letter, we are both single at the same time. A small smile crosses my lips.
“See!” He points to me. I turn to him, surprised by his outburst. “Right there. That smile.” He shakes his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
“What?” God, he knows me so well. “I’m happy for her. Nate treated her like a slave. I’m glad she’s free of him.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You never answered my first question.” I need to know. If Maria is single and didn’t ask about me, then I know she’s over me. And I can forget this whole thing. But if she did….
“You are so pathetic.” He’s shaking his head as he turns towards the school so we can pick up Mikey. “Yes.” A smile is playing on his lips. “She asked about you. She wanted to know how you were and if we still talk. Which is funny because you will never be rid of me.”
I chuff. “And not for a lack of trying.” I can’t decide if I want to ask more because … obviously I do. “What did you say?”
“I told her you moved back home.”
“What did she say?” Good grief. I do sound like a high schooler.
He rotates his head to face me. “She said to tell you hi.”
“That’s it?” I’m trying hard to not let my disappointment show.
He shrugs and looks out the window. “That’s it.”
Great. Now I'm analyzing and overthinking every aspect of this situation. She asked about me; she knows I’m back home, she’s divorced, and she said to tell me hi. It all sounds so insignificant. But for me, it’s huge. I thought with my last email to her that I had messed everything up. Maybe not.
We sit quietly as we drive the rest of the way to the school and wait for Mikey to come out from his practice. “I wonder if I should contact her?”
He lets out an exasperated moan. “I knew it,” he mutters under his breath as he turns to look at me. “Don’t.” The word comes out stern, as if it’s a warning.
“Why not? It would be nice to hear from her again,” I retort. That’s all this is. Keeping in touch with an old friend. Reconnecting after six years. No big deal.
“Yeah, right. As if that’s the only thing you’re after.”
I let that accusation hang in the air for a moment “How did she look?” I inquire, raising my eyebrow in curiosity. Ricky has always thought Maria was hot.
He gives me a huge dose of side eye, then he smiles. “She looked good. Really, really good.” In Ricky-speak, that means she looked hot. Why? Why does she have to look good? Thoughts of Maria as a hot mom are dancing in my head, and it’s causing some intense reactions inside of me. He continues. “You know, she asked me if I was seeing anyone.”
My head jerks in his direction, and my heart bottoms out. Why would she ask him if he’s seeing anyone? “Did she ask if I was single?”
“Nope.” His grin is maniacal.
I know Ricky. He’s instigating me. He is well aware that this will get under my skin. My body is rigid now because, I mean, Ricky is a good-looking guy. He has no problem finding dates every weekend. Maria is single and so is he. Maybe she saw him and realized she was interested. I shift in my seat at the thought.
“Look at you.” He grins in amusement.
“What?” I ask between gritted teeth.
“If contacting Maria is only friendly, as you claim, why does it bother you so much that she asked me if I was single? Which, by the way, relax, dude. I would never do that to you.” My shoulders sag in relief. “But seriously, she said that she just got divorced. Which tells me it’s fresh. Who knows where her head is at? Don’t contact her and confuse her. I know you care, but it’s not the right time, and you know it.”
He’s right. I’m making this about me. If Maria left Nate, or if he left her, she needs to take the time to put herself first. Heck, that’s the advice I gave her in my last email to her.
“You’re right.”
“Always.”
We watch Mikey run towards us. “Besides, I just moved home myself. I need to get settled and make sure Mikey is adjusting.” Ricky only nods in understanding.
As Mikey heaves his bag into the back seat and jumps into the Jeep, our seeing-Maria-again conversation ends. Ricky and I listen as he raves on and on about how great practice was. I’m trying to pay attention, but my mind travels back to Maria.
How will I know when it’s the right time to reach out to her? Will there be any visible sign or signal?
Would it be a good idea to get in touch with her?
I rest my head on the back of my seat.
All this uncertainty sucks.
And to make it worse, I realize how much I miss her.