Chapter Four #2
“We aim to please,” Serenity says. “The rest of your food will be out shortly.”
I squeeze ketchup onto a small plate and tap Amelia’s hand to get her full attention. “Remember what you promised?”
“No messes.”
She regards the tower of fries, looking for the largest one I’m sure, then proceeds to make her first mess when she pulls it from the center of the pile.
I close my eyes and shake my head. This girl.
Without missing a beat, Carter stacks the upended fries on his own plate, dips one in the ketchup, and pops it into his mouth.
I can tell Amelia really appreciates how he didn’t say anything about her mess. She’s no doubt tired of me asking her to be neat and tidy. But my child could make a mess out of invisible blocks.
“You ever think of going back?” he asks. “Finishing your degree?”
I don’t tell him there’s no point. Instead, I say, “I’ve actually taken a few online courses this past year, but none go toward a degree.”
“Courses in what?”
“Personal finance.”
He arches a brow. “That’s a far stretch from evolutionary science.”
I shrug. “Like I said, I only did that to get under my dad’s skin.”
“Do you still see him? Is he in the city?”
I stare out the window at some dancing snowflakes. “It’s been well over a year. Our relationship is tenuous at best.”
“It was the same for me. I got along with my mom much more than my dad.”
I nod. “Totally.” I can’t help smiling at old memories. “We used to have secret dance parties.”
He stops coloring and waits for more. I can’t figure out why he’s so interested in a stranger’s life, but I figure there’s no harm in passing the time.
“Growing up, I was always jealous of my friend, Tina. Her dad was also a pastor, but he never had a problem with dancing and phones and sweets. It made me defiant toward my own father and his… restrictions.”
“Wait. You weren’t allowed to have sweets?”
“Gluttony is a sin, didn’t you know? It’s prioritizing physical satisfaction above God, and it signifies a failure to control desires.”
I eye the plate, then pick up a handful of fries and shove them in my mouth.
Carter laughs. It’s a loud, low belly laugh. And I really, really like it.
He points up to the heavens. “So I take it you’re not a fan?”
I finish chewing the large mouthful and swallow. “Want to hear the ultimate tale of irony?”
“Hit me.”
“My third year at NYU, I took a theology class as an elective. By then I was practically estranged from my dad as he was against pretty much everything I was doing. But the class helped me understand my father better. Even had me re-establishing a relationship with God, something I hadn’t had in a long time.
I was hoping it might lead to re-connecting with my dad. But then…” I glance at Amelia.
I don’t need to explain further. He gets that if my dad wasn’t on board with phones, college, and dancing, he wouldn’t have been exactly fond of his unwed twenty-year-old daughter having a baby.
“So tell me about these secret dance parties.”
Our food is delivered. Burgers for Carter and me, and a grilled cheese sandwich for Amelia, though she may be too full of fries to even touch it.
Over lunch, I tell him about the dance parties we’d have when Tina would come over after school.
I tell him about the secret stash of candy, Hostess cakes, and the mini-dress for the eighth-grade dance Mom kept hidden from my dad.
About how she would let me watch old episodes of Friends and PG-13 movies that my dad forbade.
“Sounds like you had one hell of a mom.”
Tears prickle my eyes. “I did. And it wasn’t that she didn’t love my dad, she did. And she also loved the church. But she’d always tell me that God forgave sinners and that there was nothing I could do that would make God turn on me.”
Concern etches across his face. “Would it be okay if I asked how your mom died?”
I know why he’s asking. “I told you my dad wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Even if he’d found out about our secrets, he never would have raised a hand to her.
Or me.” I sigh. “She died of a ruptured brain aneurysm. I was at school, and she was at a church luncheon. She complained of vision problems and a severe headache, then she collapsed to the floor. It was instantaneous, for which I’m grateful.
But I still miss her like I’d miss my right arm.
She wasn’t a smoker. She was healthy. It was just a random case of bad luck.
My dad told me she was too good for this world and the Lord wanted her walking beside Him. ”
His jaw is completely slack.
“What is it?”
“My mom died of a brain aneurysm.”
“Get out. Seriously?”
“Seriously. It wasn’t the same, though. She was a heavy smoker and hers was diagnosed. She had stent surgery to redirect the blood flow, but the next day in the hospital she suffered a massive stroke.”
“Hold old were you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Um, so how long ago was that?”
He laughs. “I’m thirty-two.” When my brows rise, he adds, “You thought I was older? Come on now, I don’t have a single gray hair.”
“I just figured with your son being fifteen…”
His arms fan out and he shrugs. “Fellow teenage parent.”
“Hey, I was twenty when Amelia was born.”
“Oh, well, I stand corrected. Again.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so comfortable with another human being other than my mother. I never even felt it with my own husband.
Carter and I talk about everything. Well…
almost everything. We talk about nothing.
We talk about his siblings and my lack thereof.
About our childhoods. Mostly we talk about our kids, and it’s apparent how much he loves his son, which does nothing to squelch this amazing warmth spreading through my insides.
When Amelia is on her second coloring book, having long ago finished the first, and after playing a million tic-tac-toe games with either Carter or myself, there is a lull in conversation.
I study him as he doesn’t even complain when Amelia insists he play ‘just one more.’
“Carter, do you believe in God?”
He puts down his crayon and looks at me like he’s afraid of how I might react to his answer. He nods a few times then says, “While I’m not a card-carrying member of any one religion, yeah, I do.”
“Why?”
His eyes narrow. “Why do I believe in God?”
“Yeah.”
He thinks on it, gazing out the window. He finally turns back, and says, “It’s kind of hard not to when you look at snowflakes.”
I laugh at his perfect answer. But then… then he gives me an even better one.
“Seriously though, if you met my kid, you’d know exactly why I believe in God.”
Wow.
I’ve never been one to experience love at first sight.
I’ve never been a believer in it. I cringe at movies or shows that have two people being soulmates or whatever.
Because surely there is no such thing. But then, why is my heart already breaking at the knowledge that after this temporary speed bump, I’ll never see Carter Cruz again?