by M. E. Carter
“You were with Elena when I called, weren’t you?”
I shrug, because what else can I say that will make her any less nervous? Nothing. She’ll either accept my friendship or she won’t. It’s completely up to her. But I really do hope she accepts it.
I also don’t tell her that calling Elena her “wise elder” gave Greg a huge laugh and consequently started them bickering when the call was over. It was all in good fun, but considering Elena is a couple years older than Greg, I think a new nickname may have stuck.
“Well, I appreciate you thinking about me. That doesn’t happen very often.” A look of resolve crosses her face and she smiles. “Would you like to come in? Looks like there’s enough for two in here.” She gently waves the bowl in her hand.
“There was actually enough for four when I made it.” I pat my stomach indicating how full I am. “That’s how I know it’s good. I don’t think I could eat another bite of it.”
Opening the door wider and stepping aside, Deborah gestures for me to enter. “I’m glad you said that. I actually just finished cleaning up after dinner, but I didn’t want to be rude and not sample your cooking.”
“Save it for tomorrow. That way you don’t have to cook.”
“I might do that. Thank you.”
Stepping over the threshold, two things immediately cross my mind. First, I can’t help feeling somewhat victorious that Deborah invited me inside. I honestly figured this would be a drop-and-run kind of deal, but I’m not unhappy about this turn of events. We’ve spent a bit of time getting to know each other on my turf. I’d like to get to know Deborah on hers too.
And second, what a turf it is. The house is just as beautiful and cared for on the inside as it is on the outside. Yet, it doesn’t come across like my grandmother’s house used to—with that museum quality that made me afraid to touch anything for fear I would break something important. No, the plush couches have obviously been vacuumed and fluffed recently, but they also look comfy and inviting. The decorations are mostly pictures of family and friends scattered around the walls and sitting on tops of tables.
And she wasn’t kidding when she said organic, non-toxic cleaners are the way to go. This house is spotless but doesn’t smell like chemicals at all. It smells almost fruity. Interesting. It’s like I’m getting a peek inside who she really is already.
Following her to the immaculate kitchen, which is so clean there is no indication they ate already, we make small talk.
“Where’s Trevor?”
“He’s in the shower.”
“By himself?”
I’m not being critical. I just expected she would be in there with him. She strikes me as the kind of person who would be terrified of her child drowning during bath time.
She sighs, and it appears to out of resignation. “It’s his latest thing. He claims to be a big boy and wants to do it himself. So, I let him, as long as I get to wash his hair and his back.”
“Wow. I guess you suddenly blink, and they’re grown up, huh?”
“It seems that way. Fortunately, though, he likes to talk about everything and nothing in the shower. So I can keep an ear on him with the monitor.”
Sure enough, she holds up a white walkie-talkie looking device that was sitting next to the refrigerator. As she turns up the volume just a bit, I hear a child’s voice singing about thigh bones being connected to knee bones, an oddly appropriate shower song.
“So your Thai noodles are world famous?” she asks as she puts the monitor down, opens the fridge and stashes the bowl away for tomorrow.
“Well, maybe just family famous.”
She hands me a bottle of water she just pulled off the door panel. It’s not the normal store brand of H2O I always buy. This seems like some fancy stuff. She either has some really expensive tastes or there is a specific reason she spends more than double what I do. My guess is the brand I’m using is going to kill me at some point, and I just don’t know it yet.
“I’m kind of surprised,” she continues as she grabs two clear glasses out of the cabinets and fills them with ice. “With a name like Aputi, I assumed you were Hawaiian.”
“I am. Born and raised on Oahu. We’re just a family of foodies so we cook anything that’s tasty.”
Her eyes widen and I can see the fluster beginning. “Oh! I didn’t mean that you can’t eat other foods because you’re Hawaiian. I mean, I don’t think you only eat pineapple and coconuts. I mean… oh my gosh, that sounds so ignorant of me. I can’t believe I said that. It’s like I open my mouth sometimes and words just fall out. I’m so sorry to stereotype you, Aputi.”
I chuckle at how quickly she can take a normal conversation and get so thrown off balance by it. Plus, I’m not offended at all. “You didn’t. I can see why you’d think that. And for the record, I like pineapple. Pineapples from my home island are the best.”
“But I didn’t have to mention them. That was so inappropriate of me.” How it’s possible, I don’t know, but suddenly her eyes widen even more as another thought crosses her mind. “And then I didn’t even ask what you wanted to drink. I just assumed you would drink water.” She throws her hands over her eyes. “I don’t know what’s happening to me today.”
Taking two steps towards her, I pull her hands from over her eyes, hoping my touch will calm her anxiety. I know it makes me rest easier, knowing she’s not dealing with this alone. There’s no reason for her to spiral like this. Not around me. “Deborah, stop. You didn’t offend me or hurt my feelings. You didn’t say anything wrong. It’s like when you brought me chicken enchiladas. We’re in Texas, so any pre-judgements weren’t stereotypes, they were just thoughts.”
She groans. “Don’t remind me of the time I accidentally almost killed you.”
Apparently, I’m not making this any better, so I try a different tactic. “You didn’t almost kill me. And you were right about drinking water. I work in a warehouse all day. I’m always thirsty.”
She looks up at me and takes yet another breath. “Water is a natural cleanser too. It keeps your skin looking younger and more vibrant.”
“See?” I smile at her because no one but Deborah would tell a big, burly man like myself how to keep his skin vibrant. “You’re treating me like a king, and I just got here.”
Nodding a few times, her whole body relaxes until finally she pulls away and turns back to the task at hand. “Thank you, Aputi. I appreciate how you always know the right thing to say. I don’t really have a lot of friends, so it’s helpful.”
I already figured that much, but knowing she trusts me enough to admit it is a good start to this new relationship. I hope I can get her to trust that I like her for who she is, and she doesn’t try to front with me as much as she does everyone else.
Still, I lean against the counter to give her some distance, knowing our friendship is still new. She busies her hands by pouring water and slicing lemon wedges. She could work at a catering company with how detail-oriented she is.
“I take it today wasn’t good?” I ask, not completely sure I should be approaching the topic with her, but a bigger part of me is convinced she needs to get it off her chest.
She sighs and attaches the wedges on the rim of the glasses. “It’s just happening so fast.” She sounds so dejected. “Apparently, I don’t qualify for alimony, so I don’t know how I’m going to afford the house.”
“You don’t want to look for a job?”
“I don’t really have any skills except organizing and cleaning, and I’m busy doing that in my own home. Plus, Trevor would have to go to daycare, and he’s very susceptible to germs. He gets enough exposure at school. I don’t know how to navigate this predicament.”
“There’s a market for that kind of thing, you know. Organizing and shopping? And you can work around your schedule.”
She leads me into the living room, making sure to bring the monitor with her. Trevor has broken out into a terrible child-like rendition of “Sexy Back” he’s singing as “Soapy
Back”. I suspect Deborah doesn’t know the real words to this song. She’d probably have a conniption if she did.
Sitting on the couches that are as comfy as they look, she makes sure to face me, but not before placing two coasters on the table in front of us. Still, it’s a comfort level I haven’t seen from her before this moment.
“I’ve never heard of a work-from-home job that wasn’t a scam before.”
“I actually know a few people who’ve tried some of them. There are things like personal shopping where you drop groceries at someone’s house. Or one of those stylists for the clothing box things people order online. You always dress really well. I bet you’d be good at that.”
She smiles shyly at my compliment. “Well, thank you. First impressions are always the most important.”
I don’t tell her the first impression she gave me was when she was denying Trevor the joys of grilled foods.
“I’m serious, Deborah. You should look into something like that. You don’t have to make a ton of money. Just enough to supplement your child support.”
She glances away, her expression changing. I can’t be sure, but it’s almost as if she’s having a realization that she has more skills than she knew.
“I think… maybe there is something I could do. You think I can really do this?”
“Absolutely,” I say with no hesitation. “I have no doubt at all that you’re going to be fine as a single mom. You’re strong and inventive. You’ll find a way. And if you get stumped, I’ll help you figure it out. That list worked out well, right?”
“It did.” Deborah looks down and wipes the invisible lint off her pants. I suspect she’s trying to avoid looking me in the eye. “How are you so sure? I mean, you don’t really know me, so how do you know I can do all of this?”
Looks like I’m going to have to come clean on how I really see her. She’s nowhere near ready to date, but I’m sure she’ll figure out my interest at some point, and she may not believe that my intentions aren’t nefarious if I’m not totally honest from the beginning.
Taking a quick sip of my extraordinarily tasteless water, and I mean that in the best way possible, I put my glass down and shift my body at an angle so I can see her better.
“I know you’re right at the beginning of this divorce and anything can happen. He could come back, or drop dead or, hell, there are so many possibilities.”
“Language.”
Her interruption scatters my thoughts as I try to figure out what she’s talking about. “What?”
“You said H-E-double-hockey-sticks.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Can Trevor hear us?”
She shakes her head. “No. I just don’t like bad language. It’s kind of a pet peeve of mine. I know it’s weird,” she looks embarrassed saying that, “but it just seems disrespectful to me. Not that I think you were being disrespectful because you said it. I mean when other people do it. Oh no,” she groans. “I’m doing it again.”
“No, you’re not.” I laugh. “You’re allowed to have opinions and preferences. I understand. Language isn’t a big deal to me, more of a bad habit. I can make an effort for you if it’s something that bothers you so much.”
Deborah bites her bottom lip, but I can see the hint of a smile. If I’m not mistaken, she’s starting to understand why I keep making an effort to see her.
“As I was saying, anything can happen and you are nowhere near ready, but someday, when it’s time, you’re going on a date with me.”
The same lip she was just worrying drops when her jaw opens in shock. “A-a date?”
“Yeah.”
“With me?”
“With you.”
“But… why me?”
I could answer any number of ways. Because I like it when she gets flustered. Because she has a nice butt. Because the remixed chicken enchiladas are officially my new favorite meal. But that would only be giving her part of the reason. She needs more than that. She needs honesty and truth. She needs swoon-worthy. “Because you aren’t perfect. No one is. But in my eyes, you’re perfect exactly the way you are.”
Her back goes ramrod straight and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. “I think… um….” She clears her throat and stands up. “Can you give me a minute? I need… I’ll be right back.”
Quicker than I can stop her, she disappears through the door into what I assume is her bedroom.
That didn’t go exactly as planned. Fingers crossed my Thai noodles can change her mind.
Chapter Seven
Deborah
Looking at myself in the mirror, I take deep, steadying breaths, trying to get my heartbeat under control.
Am I really going to do this? I like Aputi. He’s kind and genuine and thoughtful. He’s like no man I’ve ever met before, and I feel safe around him. In all my years of marriage, I can honestly say I never felt like that. But does that make this okay?
I’ve never been a girl who has one-night stands. Getting naked with someone I don’t know, who might live in a dirty house or have bedbugs in their clothes never seemed appealing. Not that anyone has those kinds of goals, but those thoughts always stopped any womanly desires I may have had right in their tracks.
But this—this is so much more intimate than sex. So much more revealing. And yet, part of me wants this more than anything. And it’s all because of Aputi.
He is so different from anyone I’ve ever known. Aputi is a protector. A provider. And I’ve been in his house, so I know he doesn’t live in filth. Maybe there are too many chemicals, but no bedbugs. He’s the kind of man who would take care of a woman forever, even if she got sick or fat or was in a bad car wreck. He’s one of the good ones. And he likes me.
Before I can second guess myself, I turn the faucet on and begin getting ready for him. He doesn’t know I’m doing this, doesn’t have a clue. But I hope my actions tell him everything he needs to know about what I hope for the future.
Funny how a few weeks ago, I was perfectly happy with my present. Earlier today I was lamenting my past. And yet suddenly, I’m hopeful and, dare I say excited, about my future. Aputi helped me do that. He helped me see that maybe I was settling for a life that was settling for me. I’m not sure I want things to be that way anymore.
Tonight doesn’t mean I’m offering Aputi forever, but it means I’m offering myself something more. As nervous as it makes me, this is the kind of intimacy I need. Aputi has made me crave it.
It takes a few minutes to get ready, but mission now complete, I stand with one hand on my bedroom door. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I ease the door open and walk through it into the light of the living room.
Aputi clicks off his phone and looks up, freezing immediately when he catches sight of me. The moment seems to go on and on and on. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“I feel really naked right now, can you please say something?” I blurt out, tugging at my oversized T-shirt.
“You took off your makeup.”
I blink back tears I didn’t know were coming. No one has seen me without makeup in at least a dozen years, maybe more. I didn’t expect to be so emotional about this moment.
“Deborah.”
“It’s not weird, right? I mean, I know I have some scarring on my face. I had really bad acne as a kid, so I usually cover it up. But is it hideous? You know what, don’t answer that. I’ll be back.”
“Deborah.” Aputi’s tone is more forceful, causing me to stop before I finish turning around and disappear again. “You look amazing.”
“I do?” I ask softly, not sure I heard him correctly. “I don’t think I like my hair pulled up in this messy bun thing. It pulls weird at the top.”
“I like it down too. But if you like it up, it doesn’t bother me. It shows off your neck.”
“Oh. Um. I… yeah.”
“Deborah.”
“Yes?”
“Turn around.”
Slowly, and not really sure why, I comply. It’s not as if he has
power over me. It’s as if I know he’ll never hurt me. Such a strange thing to know only a few weeks after becoming, well, whatever this is. Friends, maybe. But I suppose when you finally realize you’ve been hiding behind perfection out of fear for as long as you can remember, realizing the fear is gone gives you the strangest sense of freedom.
He doesn’t say anything, so I finally look up at him. That’s when he speaks.
“I know how intimate this is for you. I’m so honored that it’s me you are sharing it with. I’ll never take advantage of that.”
Once again, I have to blink back tears. For so many years, I’ve been doing everything in my power to make my husband look at me just like this. I thought I was doing something wrong. I thought I wasn’t good enough. Turns out, I was trying too hard for the wrong person.
I open my mouth to tell him as much when Trevor comes racing through the room, singing about the Santa Spiderman on his jammies. When he sees me, he stops dead in his tracks.
My sweet boy blinks a few times, and for a split second, I wonder if he doesn’t recognize me. It doesn’t take long to realize he’s actually having his own moment.
“Mommy.” His voice is so low it’s almost a whisper. “You look beauuuuuutiful.”
My heart melts and yet feels full all at the same time. It’s something I’m not used to, but it’s something I never want to end.
“The boy’s not wrong,” Aputi confirms as Trevor loses his train of thought and runs out of the room again.
“Thank you. Not just for saying that, but for everything.” I sit back down next to him on the couch, wearing my brand new yoga pants. I’ve never worn them before, but I’ve seen Elena and Callie both wear them, so I thought I’d try something new. So far, the comfort level is living up to the hype, which is unexpected. But everything about this night is a surprise at this point.
I don’t know where this relationship is going. I don’t know if or how it will end, but it’s already one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Somehow, I know it’s as close to perfect as it will ever be. Summoning my newfound confidence, I decide it’s time to let go just a little bit more.