Catch Me Twice

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Catch Me Twice Page 16

by Charmaine Pauls


  “What if his father isn’t a good man?”

  “Just because Jake chose a different future over us doesn’t make him bad. It happens to lots of people. I prefer that to tying him down with something he didn’t want.”

  “We’re talking in circles.”

  “And we’re going to be late for Noah.”

  He lifts his face to the ceiling, reflecting for a second. When he looks back at me, his expression is decided. “Let’s wait until you’re legally free to make a public announcement, but I’d like to tell Steve tomorrow.”

  “You realize if you tell Steve he’s going to tell Nancy.”

  “Yes,” he says regretfully. “I only hope she’ll keep it to herself.”

  “She’s my friend. She will.”

  “If you say so.” He checks his watch. “If we catch all the traffic lights green, we’ll only be one minute and thirty-five seconds late.”

  Jake

  After dropping off Gina, I browse a property site on my phone for houses to rent and come up with a list in the area on which one agency has a mandate. A guy named Basie answers the phone and agrees to meet me in an hour. Rentals are slow in small towns.

  We drive from Rensburg to Heidelberg’s side, visiting flat-roof houses with sad little gardens more depressing than Gina’s trailer. I almost give up until we park at a stone house with an A-line roof on the outskirts of Heidelberg. It’s old but newly renovated. The wooden floors have been sanded down and varnished, and the pressed ceilings repaired and painted. Basie tells me the fireplace is in working condition. The bathroom has a clawfoot tub and a nice mosaic of black and white tiles. The kitchen is redone, too, with wooden cupboards and brass fittings. The property is big with lots of apricot, peach, apple, and fig trees. The vast lawn is green. Perfect for a little boy. The only problem is that the house is for sale, not for rent. I take the details and drive back to the hotel where I order room service.

  While devouring a tough steak and stale fries on the dusty sofa, I log into my bank account and check my balance. Ahmed pays me a salary to run a small part of his holiday resort franchise. The money is a lot more than the labor is worth, but what’s left of it won’t last for six months. If I’m staying, I’ll need a job, and soon, a commodity in Rensburg that’s tougher to come by than turtle teeth.

  I give up on the cold fries and dial Ahmed on video chat. The least I owe him is letting him know I arrived in one piece. From the sport club towel draped around his neck and the sheen of sweat on his face, he’s at the gym.

  “I was expecting you,” he says. “How’s your wife and kid?”

  “He’s cute as fuck. She’s still pretty.”

  He wipes his face on the towel. “Do you need a return ticket to Dubai?”

  “No.”

  “She took you back?” he asks with disbelief, going down a staircase.

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Do you have a job lined up?”

  “Working on that too.”

  “I guess then you’re calling to resign.”

  “You don’t really need me. You’ve been charitable for long enough.”

  “I’ll be sad to see you go, but happy if things work out. I can have your flat packed up and your belongings shipped to you.”

  “I’ll appreciate that.” There isn’t much other than clothes. “I’ll text you the address.”

  “Anything else you want from Dubai? A souvenir? A keepsake?”

  “The letters.”

  “You threw them in the trash.”

  “I know you kept them.”

  He stops in the change room. “Do you remember that day on the yacht?”

  “You said one day I’d regret throwing them away. Fine, you told me so. I want them back.”

  “I read them.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s a good girl, Jake.”

  “Yeah. I know that too.”

  “If she wasn’t taken I’d—”

  “Don’t fucking say it.”

  “I’ll send your letters.”

  “You’re a good friend.”

  “We all deserve one. Keep in touch, Jake.”

  The line goes dead.

  I have a coffee in the bar downstairs where they no longer sell cigarettes. The barman tells me it’s a new law. I’m craving a smoke but am in too much of a rush to make a detour to the gas station. I want to stock up with groceries and swing by the hardware store before they close at five.

  A couple of hours later, my purchases in the trunk, I drive to Kristi’s place. It’s a little after five. They’re not home yet. While I wait, I hammer the pegs I got at the hardware store into the feet of the four swing poles. Happy that the frame is stable enough to hold an elephant, I carry the boxes from my car and wait. Then it hits me like a brick on the head. Gina. Fuck.

  Jumping back into the car, I race down the gravel road to the factory. I make out her figure in the dirt road near Eddie’s corner café from a distance. When I reach her, I pull over and get out of the car.

  “Fuck. Gina, I’m sorry. I got busy.”

  She regards me with her hands on her hips. “Not being good for your word doesn’t set a great example. Neither does forgetting your commitments.”

  “I apologize profoundly. I mean it. I swear. It won’t happen again.”

  “What were you so busy with?”

  “House hunting. Grocery shopping.”

  “Where are you moving to?”

  “It’s for you, Kristi, and Noah.”

  “Mm.” She walks around the car and waits.

  I dive around, getting her door before she changes her mind. When we pull off, I study her a little closer. Her face is red from the walk, but she doesn’t complain. Reaching behind me, I grab a bottle of water from one of the shopping bags and hand it to her.

  “Thank you,” she says, chin lifted like a proper lady and not like someone who’s just walked far enough to earn a blister.

  “You’re cool, Gina.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Okay, I deserve that.”

  She glances over her shoulder at the bags. “That’s a lot of food for one person.”

  “It’s for you. I already left the big boxes at the trailer.”

  She lifts an eyebrow. “What’s the occasion?”

  I shrug. “Nothing.”

  “Can you cook?”

  “Not really.”

  “Hmpf. If you stick around, I could teach you a few basic recipes, stuff you need to know if you’re going to battle it out on your own.”

  “Sounds like a deal.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Meaning she’s not taking my word for sticking around yet. Fair enough.

  At the trailer, I carry the rest of the bags inside while she takes off her shoes and massages her feet. I appreciate that she doesn’t tell me where to pack the stuff, but lets me find my own way around the cupboards. My mother has a place for every item. The pasta can never take the spot meant for the rice.

  Through the window, I see Luan’s Volvo pull up. Kristi gets out and takes Noah from his car seat. Luan doesn’t accompany them to the door. He must’ve seen my rental. That’s where we’re different. If I were in his shoes, I’d be stuck to Kristi’s side, making sure the unwelcome rival in her trailer leaves before me.

  She looks tired when she pushes the door open. Her shoulders are slumped and her face drawn. Automatically, I reach for Noah to ease her heavy burden, but she clings to him with a small shake of her head.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “He brought food,” Gina says.

  Kristi’s proud face hardens. “We don’t need your food. We’re getting by just fine.”

  “I know.” I place the last packet of pasta in the cupboard and close the door. “Just sparing you the trip to the supermarket.”

  She drops her tote bag on her bed and puts Noah in his highchair. “It’s Noah’s dinner and bath time.”

  “Mind if I hang around?”
/>
  She gives me a startled look. “You want to watch me feed and bathe him?”

  “Yes.”

  She ponders the request for a moment, then shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

  “I’ll throw something together for dinner,” Gina says.

  While Kristi grabs what she needs for Noah’s bath, I take a seat at the table. Cheeks puffed out, he makes a brrrr sound as he pushes a red truck over the tray part of his chair. If he can make sounds, there’s nothing wrong with his vocal cords.

  I grab a yellow cab from the toy basket on the floor and add it to Noah’s truck. “Have you had hearing tests done?”

  Kristi takes a towel from the shelf that holds a stack of toddler clothes and spreads it out on the bed. “Of course.”

  “His hearing tested normal,” Gina says.

  Kristi puts a plastic tub on the bed while Gina fills a pot with water and places it on the portable gas stove. When the water is warm, Kristi reaches for the pot, but I’m on my feet before she can lift it. I empty the water into the tub and refill the pot to heat more water. Soon, they’ll have a proper damn bathroom.

  Kristi undresses Noah while Gina starts dinner and I heat up two more pots of water. Before she puts Noah in the tub, she tests the temperature with her elbow. I memorize every detail, putting the information away for future use. The little guy loves the water, splashing it everywhere with a big grin, getting the front of Kristi’s T-shirt soaked. She laughs at his antics, unaware of how the wet fabric defines her curves under the lace of her bra. I barely manage to tear my gaze away lest she catches me staring.

  “Please pass me the shampoo,” Kristi says.

  I check the label and memorize the brand too, which claims to not burn kids’ eyes.

  She squirts a drop on his copper-blond hair and lathers it into foam, which she also uses to wash his body. The bathing ritual mesmerizes me. Noah gurgles happily, and Kristi chuckles every time he slams a little palm on the surface to make more water slosh over the rim of the tub onto the towel. She lets him play for a short while with a plastic duck before lifting him out, much to his protest. When he’s dry and dressed in his pajamas, she puts him back in his chair while Gina serves his dinner in a bowl. It looks like more of the homemade veggies from last night.

  Gina regards me with her hands on her hips. “Want to feed him?”

  I don’t miss the quick turn of Kristi’s head.

  “Stop spoiling him,” Kristi says. “He has to eat by himself.”

  Gina hands me a spoon. “Once won’t make a difference.”

  “Tell you what.” I take another spoon from the drip tray. “We’ll make it a team effort. What do you say, Noah?”

  “Let me tie his bib first,” Kristi says.

  “Why don’t you bathe him after dinner, let him get the messy part over with first?”

  “He tends to throw up in the bath if his tummy is full.”

  Ah. “That makes sense.”

  When a bib the size of a dishcloth protects his clothes, I hand him one of the spoons. “One time you. One time me. Get it? Here goes. I’ll start.”

  He quickly gets the hang of it. I’m not sure who enjoys the game more. It may just be me. It’s cute as hell how he concentrates on sticking the spoon in his mouth and not in his nose. I can’t help the laugh that shakes my shoulders every time he takes aim. A nagging notion at the back of my mind says he has to be better at this kind of motor skill for his age, but I dismiss the worry. Every child has his own rhythm. I’ve never been a big fan of norms.

  I manage to get through his dinner without making a mess. By the time we’re done, his pajamas are still clean, and I only have to wipe his face.

  “Did I pass the test?” I ask as Kristi lifts him from the chair.

  She doesn’t smile, but her expression isn’t unfriendly. “Maybe.”

  I’ll take maybe. I’ll take anything. Maybe is more than I deserve.

  “Want to stay for dinner?” Gina asks.

  “I don’t think—” Kristi starts, but Gina cuts her off.

  “Since you bought the food.”

  I grab the opportunity with both hands. “I appreciate the invitation.”

  While Gina fries the steaks I got, Kristi tucks Noah in and reads him a story. I’m sitting at the table, glued to the scene. It’s soft and loving and something I never had, something I suddenly ache to be a part of with all my soul. I’m so engrossed in watching how good Kristi is with Noah, Gina has to nudge me to get my attention.

  “Can you make a salad?”

  I glance at the ingredients she’s put on the table, making it easy for me without being obvious. “Of course.”

  My salad is a lopsided affair of unequally sliced tomatoes and chunks of cucumber on humps of lettuce, but both women are too polite to say anything. I open a bottle of wine, the one thing I’m good at, and serve us. Noah sleeps soundly through our dinner noises.

  “He’s used to it,” Kristi says when I ask her about it.

  In such a cramped space, he doesn’t have a choice.

  After clearing the table, I do the dishes in a bucket of soapy water while Gina goes for a shower and Kristi folds the laundry.

  Drying my hands on a dishcloth, I turn to face Kristi. She’s folding a T-shirt, ironing out the creases with a palm. Our bodies are close in the small space. Mine comes alive for her like I’ve never reacted to another woman. It takes every ounce of self-control and more not to touch her.

  “I’d like you to look at a house,” I say softly, mindful not to wake Noah.

  She adds the T-shirt to the pile of folded ones. “What will be the point? I’m going to move in with Luan.”

  Clenching my fists, I let it slide. “There’s still now until then.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “We’re not going to be a family, so don’t pretend we are.”

  “Just look at the place. If not for you, do it for Noah.”

  She bites her lip.

  “Is Gina moving in with you and Luan?”

  “No,” she says, but adds hastily, “I’m going to rent her a flat.”

  My guess is Luan doesn’t want Gina to move in with them, or Kristi wouldn’t look so guilty. “Tomorrow, after work?”

  “Jake.” She sighs. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Stop pushing so hard. I appreciate the groceries, but I don’t want your money.”

  “We’ve established that. Have a look at the place. No strings. I promise.”

  She sighs again. “I don’t—”

  “Five. I’ll pick you up.”

  Before she can argue, I plant a kiss on my finger and press it gently on Noah’s forehead. “Tell Gina I say goodnight,” I say as I see myself out.

  I’m disappointed when I pick Kristi up at five the next day and find her alone.

  “Noah?” I ask as I get the car door for her.

  “He’s staying with my mom.”

  “I don’t mind bringing him.”

  “He’ll get hungry soon. You don’t want to hear him bawl when his tummy is empty.”

  Actually, I do, but I say nothing. It’s enough that I get to spend the next hour with Kristi.

  She’s quiet during the drive and gives my questions about her day short yes and no answers. Getting the message, I keep my mouth shut until we arrive. When we walk up the garden path to the front door, I watch her face carefully.

  Her expression is reserved while I take her on a tour of the house, but her eyes light up when we exit into the small fruit orchard at the back. Running a hand over the petals of the roses, she stops and looks at me in a way that tells me she’s got lots on her mind.

  “What are you doing, Jake?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I already told you. If you’re doing this for us, you’re wasting your time.”

  Fine. Time to change tactics. “It’s for me.”

  “You? The house is enormous.”

  “I c
an’t stay in the hotel indefinitely.”

  “Your mom’s place is big enough for both of you.”

  “Not nearly.”

  She clears her throat. “I know things were difficult between you and your father, but shouldn’t you try to sort out your differences with your mom?”

  “Not your business.”

  “Sorry, you’re right.” She turns and walks back toward the car.

  Catching up with her, I grab her elbow. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I can’t do this with you.”

  “Do what?”

  She looks at where I’m gripping her arm. “Whatever game you’re playing.”

  It’s no game, not where she’s concerned. When she pulls a little, I let go, giving her space. “Would you let Noah visit here if I stay? I mean, is the house childproof enough for you?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the safety here.”

  “That’s all I wanted to know,” I lie blatantly.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Why? What did you expect?”

  She gives a small shake of her head. “I better get back. My mom will need a hand.”

  “I’m happy to help with Noah’s bath, or dinner, or cooking.” I’m sure she can do with a little downtime.

  “Thanks, but Luan is coming over for dinner.”

  I hate the sound of that, but there’s nothing I can do but drive her home, see her to her door, and tell her goodbye. She can have her dinner with Luan, but I’m not done fighting. Not even close.

  Kristi

  I’m still not myself when I get ready for the barbeque on Saturday evening. It’s a weekly event in town and normally a lot of fun, but I feel disorientated. Luan picks up my mom, Noah, and me. He doesn’t talk much, perhaps contemplating how to break the news of us getting together to Steve, and I’m grateful for the silence.

  Portable tables are set up on the shore of the lake, and the barbecue fires are already lit when we arrive. Nancy hurries over when she sees us, taking Noah from my arms.

  “Hey there, champ.” She plants a kiss on his forehead.

  Steve saunters over. “Good to see you, Kristi.” He nods at my mom. “Gina.” After exchanging small talk about our week, Steve pulls Luan away to get a beer from the stash in the ice-filled tub. Nancy sits down next to Noah on the picnic blanket I spread out while Gina wanders off in the direction of the food table to ask if the women need help.

 

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