Chapter 4 #3
“That went down the tubes when I later discovered that he’d stuck pinholes in all the condoms so I’d get pregnant because then he knew I’d go along with his plan to forge the documents to get married.
And most importantly, so he could become a citizen.
Before that happened though, we had to leave the house because it was being auctioned off.
So we moved into the rooming house where he’d lived before with other recent immigrants, most of whom didn’t speak English.
He encouraged me to get a job even though I was still in school and sick half the time I was pregnant, but I did it and worked part time at the food kitchen.
“He was good to me when we were together and I believed he was fond of me. He’d quit the job at the food shelter and found a job as a bouncer, started working out and getting expensive clothes and a haircut though we continued to live in the boarding house.
“When it became apparent at school that I was pregnant, they started questioning me and tried getting in touch with my aunt and uncle, but they were obviously unsuccessful.
I was only mildly disappointed that my aunt never contacted me six months later.
It was close to the end of the school year, so I confessed everything about my aunt and uncle and the house to the school counselor and they were appalled and going to find me foster care.
“To avoid foster care, I had to tell them I was married. I didn’t tell them about the forged documents though.
After I begged them, they allowed me to finish the school year without calling social services because I assured them I was better fed and clothed now than I’d been with my aunt and uncle.
Which was true. I ate regularly at the food kitchen while I worked there and Mack would bring home food from the club where he worked. ”
She pauses then and faces me. I hold my breath, not daring to interrupt her, knowing more was to come. My insides are so knotted up, I can’t move, and I don’t take my eyes off her.
“Right up until the night when he never came back. To this day, I don’t know what happened to him. I was afraid to think about it. I was just about nine months pregnant.”
I suck in a breath, but I don’t have time to express my outrage because she keeps talking.
“It’s not like I was in love with him, but he’d been my security.” She pauses and shakes her head in a derisive gesture. “I should never have depended on him. Or anyone.”
“Ronnie—”
She cuts me off. “Don’t say a word. Don’t feel sorry for me. That’s not why I’m telling you this.”
“Why are you telling me?” I hold my breath. I have no idea what motive to anticipate. She has depths I can’t imagine, dug by tragedy and the strength to deal with it.
“Hell if I know.” She shakes her head and faces me.
“No. That’s not true. I’m telling you because I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.
You have a generous streak—which is admirable and all—but I don’t want it aimed in my direction.
I don’t need anyone. I’m not depending on anyone but myself from now on. ”
“I get that. I respect it.” She stares me down with a stern expression only sharpened by those flashing jewel eyes. I clear my throat. “So that’s it? Between you and Mack?” I can’t help myself and she sees right through me, smirking without apology.
She shrugs and I don’t think she’s going to say more as she watches and waves at Jimmy. The sun is almost down, but the festive lights keep the park bright.
“Mack was someone I shared my secrets with. I had friends in high school, but I didn’t have much in common with them because most of them had parents, a home and regular food on the table.
I maintained one good friend who’d invited me to stay over once but I was uncomfortable and out of place in her relatively palatial home with her caring parents and siblings.
My own parents and the life I had as a child felt like a distant memory, sometimes now it feels like my childhood was a dream, a fairytale that never happened.
Not something real because it was so thoroughly undone once my parents were gone. ”
“What about your friend? Why couldn’t you stay with her?”
“Her family looked at me with too much sympathy when they learned that my parents died and I’d been staying with relatives.
I never went into detail about who my relatives were or my circumstances, but they could clearly see by the way I was dressed and how I’d been generally unkempt with wild long ungroomed hair and nails that I wasn’t well off. Understatement.
“The school year ended and I stayed in the rooming house. The landlord got me a good lock for the door and looked out for me and Jimmy. Fast forward six years and here I am.” She stares ahead, watching Jimmy and Dasher and I sit mute, waiting for my heart to settle, for my gut to untwist, for my mind to figure out what the hell I can say.
It’s a lot to digest. My head hurts and my heart hurts even more. With a shaky arm, I pull her in close to me. She resists. I don’t relent.
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Sean Patrick. That’s not why I told you this story. Don’t make me regret sharing—” her voice cracks and I take her face in my hands.
“I don’t feel sorry for you. I feel outrage and anger at your uncle and your so-called husband. And anger at fate. But for you? I have nothing but fucking awe and admiration. You’re my fucking hero, sweetheart.”
Her eyes glitter, but her cheeks stay dry. If I let them, tears would fill my own eyes, because damn it, I’m a sucker for a kick-ass heroine. Only this isn’t the movies, it’s real life and she’s here in my arms.
“Hey Mommy,” Jimmy shouts, heading our way. I let go of his mother and plaster a smile on my face because this kid is the luckiest little kid I know to have this woman as his mommy.
He crashes into our legs and reaches for his mother. Ronnie lifts him into her lap and Dasher jumps and yips until I lift her into my lap.
“Did you have fun playing with Dasher?” she asks, Her voice is strong though her smile is frail and she holds her son close.
“So fun. I love Dasher.” Jimmy squirms from his mother’s hold. “It’s cold. I’m hungry. Can we go home now?”
“Sure—”
“I have a better idea,” I say. “How about if you come to my house and check out the lay of the land.” I’m determined more than ever to see this woman, to have a relationship with her and her son. And to help her—check that—give her an opportunity to help herself.
“Okay,” Jimmy says, face bright with a smile aimed at my heart.
“I don’t know—”
“You agreed to puppy-sit for me, right?”
“I don’t—”
“I need the help. Dasher needs more attention than I can give him at this stage of the season. We have late practices sometimes and away games.”
“We can help you,” Jimmy says, happy and sincere, his dark eyes melting me.
But I know better than to use her son against her, so I shift my gaze to Ronnie.
“I suppose we could agree to help you out,” she says, “seeing that you got yourself into a spot, but for the record, I’m doing it for Dasher’s sake, not yours. I’ll need to work around my schedule at the shelter.”
“Of course.”
“And it can’t interfere with Jimmy getting to school.”
“I’ll throw in money for the extra expense of an Uber ride to school and between the shelter and my house.”
“Alright, Mr. Short-Sighted Puppy Buyer, you have a deal.”
I laugh and we have a three-way hug—four way if you count Dasher.
My heart is lighter than it’s been since we won the Super Bowl two years ago, but even that pales in comparison.
Lighter than I imagined it could be after hearing her story.
But if she can bounce back and live and walk around finding stray cats and raising a beautiful boy, I can keep her story from getting me down.
We walk back to my car and make the short ten-minute drive to my house.
The area used to be a working-class neighborhood once-upon-a-time, but it’s been gentrified and the former triple-decker homes are now all million plus dollar masterpieces, albeit set on city-sized lots.
Still the small back yard will come in handy for Dasher.
I pull into the garage under the house and we go up the stairs and enter my home through the kitchen.
It’s state-of-the-art with all the gadgets, mostly lost on me, and gleaming surfaces.
When I turn and see Ronnie’s reaction as she follows me slowly, slack jawed and taken aback, I’m ashamed that I’ve taken the place for granted.
“You like the kitchen?”
“Like it?” She turns to me, disbelief and something else in her eyes.
I shrug. “I don’t cook much.”
“You’re an asshole. This is a dream kitchen and you don’t even care.” She doesn’t look at me, her voice is distracted as she runs her hands along the marble counter of the over-sized island. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s ever used it,” Her voice is quiet and I’m not sure she’s talking to me.
“You like to cook?”
She stops and turns to me then, lets go of Jimmy’s hand and he runs into the family room chasing after Dasher. “Jimmy—"
“It’s alright, let him go. There’s nothing in there but a TV and some trophies.”
“You are such an asshole.” She smiles and shakes her head. I know what she means. I take too much for granted. I have more than one man deserves.
“So you like to cook?” I ask again because I can tell she does.
“I like to cook but baking is my specialty. Baking cakes.” I remember her birthday cake. The one she’d made the day her parents died. She’s turned the tragedy into something special. Amazing. I remember to speak.
“Sounds delicious.” I want to say more, but bite my tongue to stop myself from blurting the next thing that comes to mind--asking for a home cooked meal some time. Too bold, too pushy.
She shrugs, one eye on Jimmy in the family room and one eye examining every detail of the kitchen as if she’s going to paint a picture later.
“I’m sorry--don’t mind me,” she says. “We were going to talk about the dog sitting arrangements.”
“Right. I’d like you to start tomorrow if you can manage it. Get here as soon as you can to walk Dasher and hang out with her until I get home so she’s not lonely. Then on Friday stay over while I travel to Los Angeles for an away game.” I pull open a drawer and lift out my spare keys.
“You can have these. I’ll leave an envelope for you tomorrow with your fee for the week.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a wad of money, trying to hide it, but I see her eyes go wide. Shit. I am an asshole.
“What are you—”
“Here’s a twenty for your Uber ride over tomorrow. Should cover it.”
She nods. “I’ll leave the change.”
“Any questions?” I don’t know why I feel so stiff and formal now after we’ve shared our stories—or she’s shared hers, so much of herself. We should be more connected, not less.
Who am I kidding? It’s the money that snaps the connection of course. But hell if I’m not going to pay her and hell if she and Jimmy aren’t perfect to help me out with Dasher.
“Where do you keep the puppy food?”
I go to the walk-in pantry to show her. She follows and I hear her suck in a breath behind me. I turn and she’s standing in the door, a hand to her chest and face tight.
“Jesus, you expecting world war three with all this food, Sean?” She steps inside and looks around, touching the shelves and all the cans and boxes and bottles filling them.
“Honestly, I have no idea what’s in here. I had the housekeeper stock it for me. My mom might have helped out too last time she was here.”
She nods, clears her throat. “Of course. I’m being silly.
Tactless. I mentioned that I might be tactless, right?
” she lets out a shaky breath. “It’s just that you live in such a different world than I do.
It’s jarring to see it up close and personal, the kinds of things I usually only see on television. ”
“You must have been okay before your parent passed away?”
She nods her head. “Yes, you’re right. It seems like another lifetime ago. My old life, the normal one, hardly seems real anymore.”
“Seems to me you’ve made it back to normal now. You’ve made a home for you and Jimmy.”
She looks at me and looks around my kitchen. “Right again. Who needs a shiny kitchen when you have a beautiful healthy son.” When she smiles at me, it takes my breath away.