“Did things get settled last night?” I ask him.
“Yeah. Glenn apologized and said he’d treat Mom better.” Gregory chuckles. “Like I care.”
“You don’t care how he treats your mom?” I don’t believe that.
“If Mom allows him to treat her like crap, why should I care?” He looks at me. “This is all your fault, you know. You just had to teach me chivalry and all that crap, didn’t you?”
“You get plenty of dates because of it, so why are you complaining?”
Gregory grins. “Good point, Dad.”
Having him work with me is one of the few ways I can keep up with what’s going on in his life, aside from when he comes over to stay at my house every other weekend. It’s always good to spend time with him and Kayla. That cruise will be a good idea, I think.
“Am I dressed okay?” Jamie asks, glancing down at herself. I just picked her up from campus for our date on Friday. “I feel weird and you should’ve seen the looks I was getting when I was walking down.”
“What was the first thing I said to you?”
A smile lights up her face as she says, “That I’m beautiful, but that doesn’t really answer my question. You told me to dress like it’s the fifties and I feel like you didn’t really do your part while I went all out.” She wears a black pencil skirt that drops a few inches below the knees, a cute red and white polka dot blouse, heels, and even white gloves. Her hair is curled as well. “You’re just wearing a suit!”
“Men kept things simple,” I say with a shrug.
She can barely hold in her laugh as she says, “Speaking from personal experience?”
“Don’t start teasing me now, and honey, just so we’re clear, the fifties were before my time.”
She laughs freely now, enjoying this difference of ours way too much. “What are we doing anyway?”
“There’s some festival going on a little north of here and they’re celebrating a different decade each night. There’s food, dancing, and then a drive-in movie.”
“A drive-in movie? Really?”
I relax at hearing her interest and excitement; I was worried about this date idea. “Yeah. There’s actually still a few outdoor theaters around, this being one of them. They’re lending part of their land for the festival part of the event.”
My phone rings with a call from Kayla. I debate not answering it because if she’s calling to tell me I should work less, I don’t want to argue with her in front of Jamie. But it’s my little girl calling and I have to at least find out why.
“Excuse me for a second,” I say to Jamie as I swipe across my phone to answer. “Hey. How’s my little girl doing today?”
“I’m worried, Dad. Yesterday, you were late to work and today, I come by to see you, but apparently, you left early and you’re not at home! Are you sure you’re not sick?”
I laugh. “I’m not sick. I’m on a date, Kayla.”
There’s a long silence on her end before she says, “Oh. Okay. Well, I’m dropping off potential cruise destinations with dates. I’ll leave them on the kitchen table. These are just what I’ve found so far with one cruise line; I’m still looking. Gregory hasn’t really helped me, so I don’t know if he wants to go to any of these places.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ll look over them this weekend. Anything else?”
“You’re on a date?” she asks as if she can’t quite believe it. I’ve been on dates since the divorce and I thought the kids realized this, but maybe Kayla hasn’t paid attention.
“Yes, and I’d like to get back to it.”
Then, I hear Logan in the background. “If he’s on a date, sweet cheeks, you gotta hang up! Leave the man alone and let him do something other than work.”
Kayla’s response is a bit muffled, but I manage to hear, “But what if she’s boring like Glenn?” And then, “Logan!”
“Hey, Brent. Sorry to bother you. We’re hanging up and getting out of your house now. We have things to do tonight anyway. Have fun on your date,” he says.
“Thanks.” I hang up before Kayla can wrangle the phone back from him. “Sorry. It’s a hazard to having kids. They’re bound to interrupt you all the time.”
Jamie shrugs. “That’s okay. I’m pretty sure I’m safe from ever having to worry about that.”
I glance over at her. “What do you mean? You don’t want kids one day?” My question sucks all the oxygen from the cab of the truck. I don’t understand the change in the atmosphere, but it’s there and it weighs heavily on my chest.
“No,” Jamie answers simply.
Her answer doesn’t stun me. It’s the certainty that she knows she doesn’t want kids now or in the future. I couldn’t have said one way or another when I was eighteen what I wanted, and then next thing I know, Shannon was pregnant. After that, I still couldn’t tell you if I would’ve liked another one, and again, she got pregnant. But now? Fairly certain two is enough for me.
The difference is my age.
Maybe I’m missing something, or maybe it’s different for women, or it could be different for everyone.
“I mean, children are great, and I’m sure yours are nice,” Jamie says, suddenly explaining herself.
“Hey, it’s fine,” I reassure her, reaching over to take her hand in mine.
“You seem bothered by my answer, though.”
“I’m not. Just surprised you’re so sure. I wasn’t ever sure of anything at your age.”
She glances down at our hands and then out the window. “Oh. Well, some things you just know for sure.”
That is true. “Do you think you’ll keep this look?” I ask, hoping it’ll lighten the mood. “I think the fifties really likes you.”
Jamie laughs and glances down at her lap, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her skirt. “Ask me again after I’ve spent all night dressed like this.” She looks over at me with a smile. “You said there was dancing. Are you dancing with me?”
“We didn’t come all this way to skip that part.”
The night is going to be really fun, but I’m most looking forward to the dancing. It’s a socially acceptable act that allows me to hold her close at times, but almost always lets me touch her. I’m certain it’ll keep her smiling and laughing too. What more can I ask for tonight?
While we aren’t watching the movie first, they do have us park in our space at the drive-in theater when we arrive. I worry we’ll be cold as we walk to the tents that are set up off to the side, but the air is warm. There’s quite a few people here as well. It looks like there are a few different activities to do, but my eyes stray to those on the dance floor, dancing to music from the era. There’s even a little stage set-up for dancers to watch two couples dance like they did back then in case you want to follow along.
“Hungry?”
I glance up at Brent, who now wears a hat, and smile while shaking my head. “Let’s dance.”
Thankfully, they’ve set up an actual dance floor out here, or I’d be worried since I’m wearing heels. The current song is upbeat and fast paced. Brent seems to have no trouble taking the lead. I do my best to keep up, but soon forget about it because the fun of dancing with him takes over.
About halfway through one song, it hits me that there’s no one singing.
“There aren’t any words,” I point out the obvious.
Brent laughs. “Any yet, we’re able to continue dancing just fine.”
“I should’ve worn a different skirt. It would’ve flared out all pretty-like, and I could’ve moved a bit more freely.”
Brent shakes his head with a slight smile. The music changes to a slow song and I’m thankful for it. We’ve been dancing to upbeat songs for easily an hour now. I’m actually hot. But right now, I get to wrap my arms around Brent’s neck while he holds me flush against him and we sway to the soft tune. Brent looks at me so intently, I wish I could rest my head on his shoulder or anything else that would break eye contact.
The longer he looks at me, the warmer I
get. The heavier his hands feel on my hips. The harder his body feels against mine. He gets more alluring by the second. It’s not fair and it’s completely distracting. Why are his hands so innocently on my hips in the first place? He could rest them on my lower back, pull me even tighter. He could lower his head just a little, kiss me for a second, and all would be well. Except, I already want more than a second and he hasn’t even kissed me today.
Brent leans in. Oh, good. He’s finally going to kiss me. In three, two... Damn it, Brent! He bypasses my mouth and rests his cheek against mine before whispering, “What are you thinking about?”
“Things I probably shouldn’t be thinking about in public.”
He laughs. “It’s almost time for the movie. We should head that way. Hungry yet? I think we can grab something from the concessions over there.”
“Let’s do that then.”
Brent takes my hand and leads us away from the majority of the crowds. We stop to order our food from the concessions. I think Brent goes overboard, but all I can do is laugh. We both get burgers, fries, and drinks, but Brent insists we need popcorn and chocolate bars for the movie too. We also stop by to rent a radio instead of using the one in his truck for the audio for the movie.
By the time we’re in the truck and all set up to eat and watch the old movie, it starts. It’s weird to be sitting in the car and not in a theater, but cool too. Some people forgo their vehicles altogether and brought blankets and lawn chairs instead.
“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” Brent murmurs.
“Yeah. It would be nice to come back once it’s a bit warmer and be like them.” I point to a group of people who decided to sit outside of their vehicle. “A movie under the stars.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
We watch the rest of the movie in silence. The party at the tents is still hopping, not yet dying down, but we decide to head back home.
“And there needs to be a third time, too,” I say as we leave.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Aren’t drive-ins famous for making out?”
Brent laughs. “You want to come back? Just to make out in the truck?”
“You don’t?” I raise an eyebrow at him when he glances over at me.
“Okay. It’s a date then.”
I smile and look out the window. My phone vibrates with a text and I check it real quick.
Erin: How’s the date? Do I need to call? I heard you left out of here looking old-fashioned. What the hell, Jamie?
Me: We’re on our way back, so you’re way late. It was 50s night.
Erin: 50s night?? That sounds like torture. What kind of guy does that to you? Are you sure I don’t need to call with an emergency?
Me: I’m fine! I’ll tell you details later. Coffee in the morning?
Erin: Text me when.
Brent has his hand all the way over the center console. His fingers dangle. They tease my thigh by drawing endless circles, round and round. I’m so distracted by that one little action that I don’t realize we’ve stopped or that we’re back at campus until he chuckles and squeezes my knee. I’m a little disappointed that he’s dropping me off instead of us spending more time together, maybe naked time. This is a clear sign that naked time isn’t coming soon, or tonight at least, which is probably for the best. All that dancing went straight to my...err...head.
“Are you going inside or would you like to stare at my hand some more?”
“Sorry. I had a good time. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
He gets out and I wait as he walks around to open my door for me. He takes my hand. The warmth, the callus feel, how his hand is a bit bigger than mine? It sends tingles up my arm and down my back, all the way to my toes. That hand would feel good running over my body. Ugh! Stop it, Jamie! Patience. It’s too soon and it’s date one!
“Jamie?” My gaze travels up his arm to his smiling face. “You seem preoccupied again.” He closes the door behind us and I take a step closer to him. A slight upward tilt of my chin is all it takes for Brent to lean forward and respond to my unspoken request. Within seconds, his arms snake around my waist and pull me tight against his body. I love that his body’s automatic response to kissing me is to hold me as close as possible.
He tries to pull away, but I lift my hands and dig my fingers into his hair at the base of his neck. There’s no way I’m letting him get away from me just yet. That kind of love I want? Where it’s all-consuming and sucks me in and never lets me go? This might not be love, but that consuming feeling overtakes me every time he kisses me and locks his arms around my waist. The world silences around me except for the noises we elicit from one another. My heart, which normally feels like it’s clutched tightly in the control of someone else, can beat freely to its own pace.
It feels so good. The emotional side lines right up with the overwhelming sensations of the physical side. I wouldn’t mind living right here in this moment forever.
But someone whistles at us and Brent pulls away.
“Want me to walk you to the door?” he asks, surprising me by asking in the first place.
“No, that’s okay.” My answer seems to give him some relief. Maybe he’s worried one of Kayla’s friends will see him and report back to her? He probably shouldn’t have gotten out of the truck if that’s the case.
“Talk to you soon then.”
I will my legs to walk away from him and back to the pits of hell. I can’t even go into my dorm room when I get there because there’s a pink hair tie on the door knob, which is my roommate’s signal that she has company and isn’t to be disturbed. I return outside to my car and with a quick look around, change into the spare running clothes and shoes I try to keep in my car. Might as well run off the pent-up energy until it’s safe to return to my dorm.
My first call of the morning isn’t a good one. It’s my mother. I send the call to voicemail and change my settings from vibrate to silent. The moment I set the phone on the table, she’s calling again. But I also get a text from Brent, asking if I want to go running. My legs feel sore from all the running I did last night, but I text back that I’ll be there soon. If Mother is going to call all day, a run will help clear my mind first thing to help deal with ignoring her.
It doesn’t take long to change and drive over to Brent’s house. He walks outside just as I pull up and he frowns when I get out of the car.
“You do not look as happy as you did when I left you last night,” he comments.
“My morning started with my mother blowing up my phone,” I admit as we jog to the sidewalk.
“What does she want?” he asks curiously.
My instinct is to refuse to answer. He’s asking me to talk, but since I mentioned it in the first place, I might as well tell him. With a sigh, I say, “She’s calling to find out if I’m coming home today for my sister’s birthday party because I’ve yet to answer her.” I run a little faster. “Apparently, it’s crucial that I’m there for yet another of her stupid birthday parties. I will not be attending because I’m not driving two hours one way for her party, so it’s better that I don’t answer.”
For a few pleasant seconds, the only sound is the steady rhythm of our footsteps. Part of me wants to rush back to his house and my car to drive back to campus. I’m not a talker. Not even to Erin. Sure, I talk about boys and school, but the important things? The things that really bother me? I keep those to myself. My family talks too much, says hurtful things, and gets carried away. I don’t want that to be me. What I just said to Brent may not seem like much, but it’s more than I’ve spilled to anyone in a long, long time. It worries me a bit.
“How old is your sister?” Brent asks.
“Twenty-eight today.”
“You don’t get along with your family, do you?” There’s a touch of sadness in his voice that causes me to glance over at him. He looks as if he feels bad for me.
“Don’t look at me like that, Brent. We all don’t get along with somebody.”
“If you keep talking about this, I’ll need to run faster.” I’m already eager to run off this anxiousness that has filtered into my system and Brent’s pace isn’t cutting it.
He frowns. “Running is healthy, but talking is healthier.” I open my mouth to object, but he adds, “Just know that whenever you’re comfortable enough to talk to me, I’m a good listener.”
His words buzz around in my mind long after our run and after I return to campus for a shower and while I leave to meet up with Erin. It seems too soon to think about actually opening up to someone. The thought makes me laugh to myself. Too soon to talk to Brent, but not too soon to want to have sex with him. I’m officially a mess.
“Give me all the details,” Erin says as she sits down at the table with her coffee.
“I don’t know if I want to.” I don’t know if Erin knows Kayla, which means I have to be skimpy on some details anyway.
“What? Why? Is he freaky in some way?”
“No! He’s just older. Way older. Eighteen years older.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you seeing a professor? Who?”
“No, it’s no one from campus. He has two kids, not that much younger than me, and divorced from his wife over a year ago.”
“Wow.” She eyes me as she takes a sip of her coffee and I gulp down some of my own drink. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into? Dating a man that old, especially one with kids around your age? What if he has some sort of weird complex?” She shudders like I’m dating some dirty old fart with white hair and a walker.
I frown. “He’s thirty-nine, not seventy. He doesn’t have a weird complex either. I hit on him first. He seems really great so far. What about you? Anyone new?” I ask, wanting to get the conversation away from Brent.
“Not lately. I’m swamped with schoolwork. Two of my professors had to go and assign projects. Projects! What happened to good old-fashioned papers that were ten pages long?”
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