The Anti-Boyfriend

by Ward, Penelope

  Maybe it was a dumb question, but I asked anyway. “Why can’t you have a sex life?”

  “It’s kind of hard to go out and meet people when you have a baby. I can barely go to the bathroom.”

  “Well, not for nothing, but if you put your photo out there, pretty sure you’d find a line of guys willing to make house calls.”

  She shivered. “That’s kind of disturbing. I have to be careful who I bring around her.”

  “I get that. I was mainly kidding—not about there being a line, but about that being a safe and feasible option for you.”

  “Anyway, one-night stands are not my thing. I’ve never actually had one, and don’t think now is the right time to start.”

  My curiosity grew by the second. “Your last relationship was Sunny’s father?”

  “Yeah.” She looked down at her daughter. “He was the older, powerful, authority figure who drew me in with a false sense of security. He was apparently just using me to pass the time until he decided to go back to his ex-wife. It sucks, but it was a big life lesson—be careful who you trust.” She looked contemplative. “But, like I always say, I got Sunny out of it. Being a mother so young wasn’t something I planned, but I wouldn’t trade it.”

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Twenty-four.”

  Damn. She was younger than I thought.

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “Twenty-nine.”

  “Geezer.” She smiled. “Just kidding. I was going to guess in that range.”

  “How old is your ex?”

  “Thirty-eight.”

  I wondered if she liked older men in general, or if that was just a one-off deal. There were a lot of things I wondered about Carys. Things I probably had no business knowing.

  The baby seemed deep into sleep now. As I stared down at her sweet little face, those almond-shaped eyes and her pudgy little nose, I got the courage to ask something else I’d always wanted to know. I hoped it didn’t offend her.

  “When did you find out that Sunny—”

  She finished my thought. “When did I realize she had Down syndrome?”

  “Yeah. I hope you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Not at all. I like when people ask me about it. They shouldn’t be afraid.” She looked down at Sunny. “I didn’t know until she was born.”

  My first thought was to say something like, “That must have been devastating.” But why? Why would it be devastating? Because she’s different? I chose to just let Carys continue, because I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

  “Of course it was shocking, you know? And at first, I was sad, like there was some kind of loss, but that was only because I was really ignorant about Down syndrome at the time. I was feeding off of other people’s reactions, which were to say things like ‘I’m sorry.’ Can you believe that? In retrospect, they were so wrong, even if they meant well. I’m sorry is something you say when someone dies, not when they’re born. I hope no one ever says I’m sorry to me in the future. Because they’d get an earful.”

  See? My instinct to shut up was correct. “How long did it take you to realize it wasn’t something to fear?”

  “I started going online and connecting with other parents of kids with Down’s, and it was a totally new world. When you see their kids thriving, happy, communicating, it tells a different story than one based on fear or misinformation.”

  “Well, I’m definitely learning from this conversation. I’ve never known anyone with Down syndrome before Sunny. But I can clearly see that she’s a healthy, happy baby.”

  Sunny continued to sleep through our whispered conversation.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Carys said. “She will definitely face challenges a typical kid wouldn’t. But overall, our day-to-day life is the same as if she didn’t have Down’s.” She stared off. “When people ask me, ‘what she has’ or ‘how I feel,’ I tell them she was blessed with an extra chromosome and leave it at that.”

  I loved that. I nodded. “Everything is a matter of outlook.”

  “That’s right. And I don’t view her as handicapped. Unique, maybe. But not handicapped.” Carys played with some lint on the couch. “They did tell me to expect her speech to be delayed. She started early-intervention services as soon as she was born. Someone comes to the apartment a couple of times a week. She might have to learn sign language before she starts talking, but I’ll take that as it comes. I’ll line up the best speech therapist. I’ll learn everything I can myself. But I already see her trying to communicate with me. Even if the words don’t form as clearly or as quickly as other kids, we’ll manage.”

  I’d admired Carys before, but I had even more respect and admiration for her now. This girl is phenomenal. If only every kid with challenges was lucky enough to have a parent like her.

  But what she said next broke my heart.

  “I think the only time it ever really gets to me is when I’m out and about with her in public. You know how sometimes people see a baby and lean in to get a closer look? Well, some people do that to us. And sometimes, I see their faces go from happy to sympathetic when they realize she looks different. That makes me sad—not sad for me, but sad that people look at her as something unfortunate, something that would warrant a sympathetic look.” Her eyes watered, and she quickly wiped them. “I hate it, Deacon. Sorry. I don’t talk about this stuff often.”

  “Thank you for sharing all this with me.” This conversation had changed the way I viewed people with special needs.

  She stared into my eyes. “Thank you for not being afraid to ask.”

  I looked down at Sunny’s sweet face with a newly acquired sense of hope. “You think it might be worth trying to put her down again?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  I carefully lifted myself off the couch. It felt good to stretch my legs and take the pressure off my numb ass and balls.

  I followed Carys to the baby’s room, and once again placed Sunny carefully on the mattress. I don’t think I’d ever walked slower in my life than I did leaving that room.

  Once back in the living room, Carys said, “You really can go home now.”

  “Ah. I can take a hint.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t trying to get you to leave, if you want to stay. I’m too wired to fall asleep just yet. I’ll be up for a while. I’m enjoying the adult company.”

  It was rare to hang out with a woman without any expectations. I was enjoying her company, too. A lot. Carys was real. I didn’t have to put on the charm or any kind of a front around her. I could just be myself. That felt good.

  When she realized I wasn’t rushing out, she looked back toward the kitchen. “Can I get you some…” She hesitated. “Crap, I don’t even know what to offer you. I don’t have alcohol except for these bottles of champagne I never open. I don’t drink too often. And it’s late for coffee. I have hot chocolate?”

  I chuckled. “That sounds good, actually. I might’ve chosen that if given the choice between alcohol and hot cocoa.”

  I followed her as she walked over to the kitchen. She took a couple packets out of the cupboard and filled a tea kettle with water.

  I carefully slid one of her kitchen chairs out and sat down. Although this night hadn’t turned out the way I’d expected, I was content to be here. I wasn’t sure if it was the whole no-expectations thing, but hanging around Carys was very calming. It was nice to just be friends with a woman.

  So, you probably shouldn’t stare at her ass as she leans over the stove.

  The thin material of her nightgown molded to her butt, giving me too good of a view.

  Carys looked back at me. “Shit.”

  “What?” Does she have eyes in the back of her head?

  “I just realized the tea kettle whistles when it’s ready. I wasn’t thinking. It could wake her up.”

  “We can have…warm chocolate?”

  She laughed. “I’ll just listen closely and take it off the heat right when it’s about to start.” S
he leaned her back against the counter and crossed her arms as she waited. “It’s funny all of the things you forego for the sake of not waking up a baby. Some nights I’ll debate for several minutes whether opening a can of seltzer is worth the potential of waking her up.”

  “So you decide not to bother, only to find that your trusty neighbor has a friend over and wakes her up anyway?”

  “No.” She laughed. “You only seem to keep me awake. Her room is far enough away from our wall. But unfortunately, her room is right outside the kitchen.”

  “I did end up moving my bed, just so you know.”

  “I haven’t heard anything since, so it must be working.”

  The truth was, I’d only had sex in my apartment once since Carys had mentioned being able to hear it. And I’d been extra quiet, to the point that Kendra thought something was wrong. Now that I knew Carys could hear me, it changed things. I couldn’t do anything without wondering whether she was listening. The sick thing was, the idea of her listening turned me on a little.

  When the water started to boil, she rushed to take it off the heat. She poured two mugs and mixed the cocoa in before handing one to me.

  I looked down at the words on the mug she gave me. “I’ve always wanted to drink out of a mug that says, Classy, Sassy, and a Bit Bad Assy.”

  She chuckled. “Sorry. I don’t have a ton of mugs.”

  “I love it. And thank you. I haven’t had hot chocolate in forever.”

  “I’d offer you whipped cream, but it makes a lot of noise when it shoots out.”

  “I think there’s a manwhore-next-door joke in there somewhere,” I cracked.

  “I wouldn’t have gone there.” She laughed.

  There were a few seconds of awkward silence before she said, “Anyway, we should take these out to the living room, so we don’t wake her.”

  “Oh…yeah. Let’s do that.”

  We sat down on opposite ends of the couch and quietly sipped our hot chocolates.

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking another personal question,” I began.

  She licked her lips. “Okay…”

  “What happened that caused you to not be able to dance professionally anymore? What type of injury was it?”

  She shook her head. “You’re not going to believe it.”

  “Why?

  “Because it’s pathetic.”

  “Well, now you’ve got me even more curious.”

  “I fell down a set of stairs and broke my ankle,” she confessed. “Can you imagine that?”

  I let out a long breath. “Oh, man.”

  “That’s what makes it so hard. It wasn’t like I was injured while dancing, or doing something impressive. It’s sad, really.”

  I felt for her so much. “How long until you realized it would impact your career?”

  “I didn’t think it would long term—until the company terminated my contract. I always thought they’d give me time to heal, that eventually I’d go back. But apparently they saw my injury as too much of a liability. The doctors seemed to think I’d have recurring trouble with that ankle, even after surgery, so the medical reports only strengthened the company’s case.”

  “You must’ve been in shock.”

  She took a sip and nodded. “It’s like a death—the death of the future you believed you’d have. I had to reimagine my life. And for a long time there was nothing but a black hole. It wasn’t until Sunny came along that I realized I was meant for a new purpose.”

  Damn. Her words shot straight through my soul. This would have been an opportune time to tell her my story. She’d see just how much we had in common. But ultimately, it wasn’t the right time to bring it up. This conversation was about her, not me. Plus, it was late, and I didn’t want to open that can of worms.

  We talked for a little while longer, and eventually she checked the time on her phone. “I should try to get some sleep in case she wakes up again.”

  “Yeah. Of course.” I stood from the couch.

  She reached out to take my mug. “Thank you for everything tonight, Deacon.”

  “Thanks for the cocoa. This was nice—talking to you, getting to know you better.”

  “Yeah, feel free to come by again when Sunny isn’t wreaking havoc on the building.”

  “I definitely will,” I said, standing in the doorway. “Have a good night.”

  After I got back to my apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about Carys and imagining what she looked like when she danced. Okay, some of the time I was imagining what she looked like dancing naked. But that would remain my dirty little secret.

  Most of all, I couldn’t rid myself of that old, familiar pang in my chest that had developed when she spoke about her injury. I knew all too well what it was like to have dreams broken.

  CHAPTER 4

  Carys

  PROMISE NOT TO LAUGH

  The faint noise of traffic from the street below was the only sound in the room as I nervously waited for Cynthia Bordeaux, the director of City Ballet, to begin the interview. Cynthia and I had met years ago when I danced for her competitor.

  She finally took a seat across from me and folded her hands.

  “So, let’s get right to it, Carys. Why do you think you’d be the best choice for the PR position we have open?”

  Forcing confidence, I sat up straighter. “Because I know the business inside and out, not only as a performer, but I worked the admin side for a couple of years after my injury. That well-rounded experience, as well as my good writing and speaking skills, makes me a great fit.”

  She moved her pen between her fingers. “But you don’t have any specific public relations experience. So you can understand my hesitation in hiring you for this particular job.”

  “Well, I never worked in public relations. But months of having to respond to the press regarding my injury while keeping a brave face certainly helped prepare me for anything that might arise. And things like writing a press release are pretty straightforward. In fact, I’ve already enrolled myself in an online class that teaches the basics in anticipation of this position.”

  “Well, it’s good to know you’ve been proactive. That shows real interest in the job.”

  “I am very interested, Cynthia.”

  “I have to say, I’m impressed that you could move on from the traumatic life change of your injury by accepting another position with your company. You chose to keep a foot in the industry, which I like.”

  “Well, I’d danced all my life and did everything I could to make it professionally. So even when that was suddenly over, I wasn’t ready to leave. Being injured didn’t take away my love for the ballet.”

  “What made you finally leave? Was it just your pregnancy, or something else?”

  “I stopped working to take care of my daughter, yes.”

  She tilted her head. “Why are you looking to go back to work now?”

  “I’ve felt a bit antsy lately. I love being home, but I think it’s time for me to get back out there. There’s also the financial component. But mostly, I feel like having stepped away from the workforce for a while will give me a newfound energy for whatever I embark on next. I’m really excited for the next phase of my life.”

  She sighed. “I realize you have a lot going on, so I have to be honest in saying that my biggest hesitation in considering you for this position is that you might not be as available as we’d need you to be.” She crossed her arms. “Yes, a good portion of the duties can be performed from home, but there are several events where we’d need you on hand. Sometimes we don’t have a lot of advance notice, depending on the situation—say, entertaining a new investor. Do you think you’d be able to manage childcare at the last minute?”

  Deep down, I knew that was going to be my greatest challenge. But I wasn’t going to let her close the door on me. I was determined to find a way to make it work.

  “I’m an expert at winging it, Cynthia. When I was injured, I made the best of it. When I suddenly got pregna
nt, I knew nothing about raising a child—winged it there, too. I want this position badly enough that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work. Can I promise you that I’d be able to make a hundred percent of the appearances? No. But I can promise you I will make every effort to be where you need me to be. And if I have to miss something, I’ll work ten times harder to make it up to you, to make sure you know I’m dedicated to the job.” I let out a long breath.

  She nodded silently. “There’s absolutely no doubt that hiring someone who’s been so respected in this industry would be a good public relations move for us. Not to mention, you worked for our competitor, so having you with us would be a get of sorts. I’ve always been looking for a way to stick it to Charles.”

  I smiled. If that helped justify her offering me the job, I was all for it.

  She tapped her pen on the desk. “Tell you what. Let me mull this over. I have a couple other people I’m interviewing, and I want to give them a fair shot. I’ll call you when we’ve made a decision.”

  The idea of her interviewing people who likely had more experience gave me anxiety. Still, I tried to keep my poker face. “That sounds great.” I nodded as I rose from the chair. “And if there’s anything else I can answer, please don’t hesitate to email or call me. I hope you give me a chance to prove myself.”

  She reached out her hand. “Carys, it was amazing to see you again. You’re just as lovely as I always remembered.”

  After I left City Ballet, I went to pick up Sunny from Simone’s house. Since she lived nearby, she’d graciously offered to watch my daughter. But given her lack of experience, I didn’t want to dally in case something had gone wrong.

  On the way to Simone’s, I checked my email as I walked. To my utter shock, several responses to my inquiry about a part-time childcare worker had come in. I’d figured it wasn’t going to be easy finding someone interested in a variable schedule. But it seemed I’d underestimated the number of people who didn’t want to be tied to a fixed routine.

  Hope filled me. Maybe this was going to work out after all.