Change of Hart

by M. E. Carter

  I hung out for another hour once the kitchen was all cleaned up. Sam and I sat around watching a movie and talking about yesterday’s game while Emma played. And by played, I mean ran circles around the room singing the entire soundtrack from some children’s movie. When Lindsay saw that the high-pitched screeching was starting to irritate me, she did what she does best. She encouraged Emma to sing louder and even sang along.

  Yeah. That Lindsay’s a funny one, isn’t she?

  I got her back by sneaking Emma a few drinks of my coke and tossing her around a bit. By the time I left, that kid was so wound up she probably wouldn’t hit the sack for hours. I had no idea how Sam does it.

  On my way home, I thought about what Lindsay said. As much as I thought Addison was interested in me, I knew in my mind that six months wasn’t enough time to grieve over someone you loved like that. It wasn’t fair for me to put her in that position. So I resolved to let that part slide and concentrate on hanging out with Jaxon. I just hoped it wouldn’t be awkward between Addison and me. I pressed the hands-free button on my steering wheel.

  “Jason’s phone,” the computerized voice said.

  “Call Addison.”

  “Calling Addison.” Yes, I had already programmed Addison’s number into my hands-free set. But driving was the most uninterrupted time I had to talk and if I was gonna be Jaxon’s friend, it would come in handy.

  “Hello,” she answered softly after two rings.

  “Hey, Addison,” I said nervously. “It’s uh, Jason Hart. How are ya?”

  “Hi Jason. I’m doing well. You?”

  “I’m good, thanks. Just got done with dinner at Lindsay’s. I’m not calling too late, am I?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s only 9, so . . . who is Lindsay?”

  If occurred to me that most parents call teachers by their last names, just like their kids. My own mom still calls my former teachers by their last names when she runs into them at the grocery store.

  “Lindsay Miller . . . Jaxon’s music teacher?”

  “Oh. I thought she was married. Are you dating or something?”

  I laughed out loud at that one. For a split second I thought I heard some jealousy in her voice. I quickly brushed that thought aside. Surely I was hearing things and that wasn’t why I was calling her anyway. “No! No way! Her husband wouldn’t go for that at all! No, Lindsay and I go way back. I think we were three when we became next-door neighbors.”

  “Really?” Addison asked. “I didn’t realize you knew each other so well.”

  “Oh yeah. You can thank me for how good her music programs are,” I teased. “She got a lot of practice directing when she used to make me sing show tunes in the backyard for our parents.”

  Addison giggled. “I can’t even picture it.”

  “Picture it,” I said, amused at the memory. “Then she made me sign up for choir all through middle school. Thank god football practice got in the way by high school. I bet my mom still has one of my old glittery choir costumes in the back of a closet somewhere.”

  Addison laughed louder this time. “I’m gonna start calling you Jazz Hands,” she joked.

  “HA! Only when you aren’t in the stadium, ok? And never in front of Lindsay,” I said with a smile. “I don’t know who is more relentless . . . my teammates or her.”

  “Deal,” she giggled. And then paused. “Listen, Jason, I’m actually glad you called. I want to apologize for the way I left the other day.”

  “Don’t apologize,” I said, stopping her. “I should be apologizing to you.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me. “I don’t want you to think my interest in you has anything to do with Jaxon. Because it doesn’t. Those are two separate things.”

  “Well, thanks,” she said, “because that thought actually did cross my mind. Even though I know we hadn’t met before that day.”

  I smiled. “I know. I just wanted to make that clarification. And,” I continued, “I know it’s only been six months since your husband died. That’s not a lot of time and I shouldn’t have put you in that position, so I’m sorry.”

  The car went silent. For several seconds.

  “Addison, are you there?” I asked, wondering if the call had dropped.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” she said quietly. “I’m just . . . processing.”

  “Ok,” I said, confused.

  “It’s not that . . . ,” she started and then paused, gathering her thoughts. “Well, there’s actually a lot to it. But I don’t really want to get into it right now.”

  I furrowed my eyebrows, still confused.

  “I accept your apology if you accept mine for being rude. And now we can move on. Will that work?” she asked.

  I was still confused, but didn’t want to push the issue. “Sure. Let’s move on.”

  “Great,” she said, perking up. “So there’s another reason I’m glad you called.”

  “Ok,” I said, exiting the highway toward my neighborhood.

  “Jaxon’s birthday was a couple weeks ago, like you know. But I haven’t had time to have a birthday party until now. And he really wants you to come,” she said.

  “Really?” I said, a big grin breaking out on my face. I hadn’t been to a kid’s birthday party, well, since I was a kid. “Are there going to be pony rides and a piñata and cake and stuff?”

  Addison laughed. “No to the pony rides and piñata. There isn’t enough room in our back yard or money in my pocket. But, yes . . . there will be cake and food.”

  I wasn’t sure how to take the money comment, but I let it slide. We weren’t comfortable enough for that yet. “I think I’d love to, but it depends on when it is. The season officially started yesterday so my schedule is about to get a lot more packed.”

  “How are weekends for you?” she asked. “I know Sundays are probably hard. But the party is going to be on Saturday at two.”

  I thought through the practice schedule email I had gotten this morning. “I’ll probably be late by an hour or so, but if it’s ok with you, I’d like to at least stop by for the last part. Can I bring a friend?”

  “You . . . you wanna bring a date?” she asked, sounding more flabbergasted than I think she realized. Or maybe it was just me.

  “If you consider Lindsay’s five-year-old daughter a date, then yes. I’d like to bring a date.”

  I swear I heard her breathe a sigh of relief into the phone. “Oh. Of course you can bring Mrs. Miller’s daughter! I think that’s a great idea. In fact, you can bring Mrs. Miller, too, if you want. We like to make birthday parties a big deal around here. The more the merrier.”

  I smiled as I turned into the underground parking garage of my apartment complex. “Great. I think Jaxon and Emma will have a blast together.”

  “Can I email you all the details?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said as I parked, sitting back in the seat to get comfortable while I talked to her as long as she’d let me. “My email address is actually on the team website. My manager, Adam, will get it first. But just write in there that I asked you to send me the details. He’ll get it all to me. I have a bad habit of forgetting what my plans are until they sneak up on me. He makes sure I don’t miss anything important.”

  She laughed that laugh and it made me smile just hearing it. “Well aren’t you important, with your own manager and all,” she teased.

  “Hey now! Do you know how many emails I get every day?” I joked. “I would never have time to play football if I spent my day trying to check them all!”

  “I know,” she said softly. “I was just teasing you.”

  I smiled again. “I like it when you tease me.” Silence filled the car again as both of us tried to figure out what to say next. I came up with something first. “So Addison, I never asked you the other day. I know you went back to work. Where are you working?”

  “Oh, um, I do data entry for a social services agency.”

  I stretched my l
egs out. “How did you get into that?”

  “Um . . . my degree is actually in social work. I was a case manager before Jax was born but quit to stay home. When Austin died, I had to go back to work but I didn’t really want to be around people. My old bosses brought me back on board and let me move into data entry. With the exception of an occasional phone call, I really don’t have to interact with clients very much.”

  “So you can save your energy for when Jaxon gets home,” I said with a smile.

  “Exactly,” she chuckled. “He keeps me on my toes.”

  Silence filled the car again. I wanted to keep talking to Addison, but I didn’t want to make her nervous either.

  “How much longer of a drive do you have?” she finally asked.

  “Oh, I’m home,” I admitted. “I’m just sitting in the parking lot.”

  “Oh,” she said nervously. “I guess I should probably let you go then.”

  “Yeah,” I said reluctantly. “That little boy will be up and at ‘em before you know it.”

  “So true. Thanks for calling, Jason. I enjoyed talking to you.”

  “You too, Addison. I’ll see you Saturday.”

  “See you then. Sweet dreams.”

  “You too,” I said, and she hung up.

  I got out of the car and headed toward the elevator. It didn’t even occur to me until I walked into my apartment that, despite all the comfortable conversation, Addison never even asked why I had called.

  “I just don’t get it, man,” Deuce said in between reps on the leg press. The man’s ability to talk while lifting was amazing. I couldn’t do much but groan during reps. Deuce, on the other hand, could hold an entire conversation. “We had a fantastic honeymoon, an even better homecoming, and now . . . now she’s pissed at me all the time. How many reps have I done?”

  I finished my push-ups and sat back on my knees. “I have no idea how many reps you’ve done. I was counting push-ups.” I grabbed my water bottle and popped open the top. “You must have done something stupid to make Vanessa mad at you, Deuce. She’s feisty, but she’s never been a bitch.”

  Deuce locked the leg press in place. “I think that’s twenty,” he said before standing up. “I’ve been trying to figure that out, man. But she’s all over the place,” he said, adding a twenty-five-pound weight to each end of the bar. “One minute she’s all over me and being her spicy little Mexican self. The next she’s mad that I brought the wrong brand of garlic salt home.”

  “You know how she is about her cooking,” I said, moving back into push-up position. “You should always ask her what brand before you go shopping. Even I could have told you that.” I started the up and down motion of push-ups again. My arms and shoulders were burning. Just how I liked it.

  Deuce climbed back onto the leg press machine. “I don’t know, man. It doesn’t feel like that’s it. Something’s going on and it’s making me crazy.” He released the lock and started pressing more weight. “I know marriage isn’t easy. But we’ve only been married like two months. I’m still excited about having something to do with my morning wood every day. I don’t wanna fight yet.”

  I snorted and finished my push-ups, sitting back again. “Does Vanessa know you say things like that to me?”

  “I’m not sure Vanessa would care. You should hear some of the conversations she has with her sisters when they come over. I know more about visits to the gynecologist, mammograms, and some table that has a hole to put your boob in when you get a biopsy,” he said a little more winded than before. “I’m sure the size of my junk has come up, but I haven’t caught them talking about it yet.”

  “Probably because there’s not much to talk about,” I joked.

  “More like she’s trying not to brag and make them feel bad.”

  I laughed out loud. “Are you sure? You know what they say about the size of a man’s hands. And your hands are kind of tiny for a football player.”

  He locked the bench press in place again and threw his towel at me. “Fuck you.”

  “It’s ok, man,” I said with amusement. “You know what they say, it’s not the size of the wave, it’s the motion of the ocean.”

  He stood up and started re-racking the weights for the next person. “Oh, but when you have a giant wave that moves just right . . . it’s the best feeling your woman can ever have,” he said, his eyebrows waggling up and down.

  “Obviously not, since she’s pissed at you,” I reminded him, earning a scowl in my direction.

  “I don’t know why I talk to you about Vanessa,” he said, squirting his water bottle into his mouth and swallowing. “It’s not like you have any experience with relationships.”

  “I’ve had relationships before,” I argued as we headed toward the treadmills to get our cool down in. And by cool down, I mean five-mile run. “I just don’t have enough time to make a real commitment.”

  “Is that what happened with Sara Perez?” he asked, the treadmill next to me creaking when he stood up on it. I don’t know how we didn’t go through more of these things with the size of all the players.

  I shrugged. “I liked Sara,” I said, programming the machine. “Just not as much as I liked my job.”

  Sara Perez would be considered a B-rated actress by most standards. She had done several films, but never as the main character. She was beautiful and really sweet. We got along just fine. There just wasn’t much spark. Not to mention, she lived in LA and you know how easy long-distance relationships are. We were still friends but hadn’t seen each other in a while. Different lives and all that.

  The treadmills started moving and we started jogging. “It is a lot of work, man,” Deuce agreed. “I think you’ve got the right idea. If you’re thinking more about football than you are about the woman you’re dating, she isn’t the one.”

  My phone beeped a text message alert right then. I paused my treadmill and pulled the phone out of my pocket. It was a reply from Addison.

  Since I had forgotten to tell her about the next home game the night I had dinner at Lindsay’s, I had the perfect opening to call her again the other day. Once again, we had a fun, easy conversation. I really liked talking to her. But I couldn’t think of any important conversation starters so I had resorted to texting.

  I would only send one piece of information at a time about the game, pretending the details were still being worked out. There wasn’t really much to it: parking, tickets, seats, that’s it. But she didn’t need to know that. Those details had led to a two-day long text conversation that we both participated in as we could.

  One of the things we had talked about was how she was working out several days a week, but not seeing any results. She knew changing her eating habits would help, but admitted to liking food a little too much.

  So when I happened to see one of those meme things I thought she’d like, I texted it to her. It was a picture of a cat eating lettuce and it said, “This salad tastes like I’d rather be fat.” I sent it a few hours ago. She was finally responding.

  Addison: Exactly! LOL ;)

  I smiled and started typing a reply.

  Me: I thought you’d like that. Now eat something healthy while I get my ass kicked on the treadmill.

  Addison: Deal. :)

  I put my phone back in my pocket and reached over to press the start button again when I looked up and saw Deuce’s grinning face.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Aw shit,” he said smugly. “You’ve got the hots for someone.”

  “What? No I don’t,” I argued.

  “Man, I saw the look on your face when you were looking at your phone. You have the hots for someone and I wanna know who it is!”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, staring straight ahead while jogging again.

  He laughed one quick laugh. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You were smiling like a damn love sick puss. Who is she? Who is the woman to finally catch Jason Hart’s eye?”

  I sighed. When Deu
ce got an idea in his head, he wouldn’t relent. It was better to tell him now.

  “I don’t have the hots for anyone. We’re just talking. Actually, we’re just texting.”

  “Ohmygod, someone finally captured your attention. And during the season,” he ribbed. “This is big news, Jay! You stopped the treadmill during a workout to text her back! You never even bring your phone to the gym but you’ve done it twice now. Do I need to start singing about love being in the air?”

  “NO!” I argued. “It’s not like that, ok? We just met not that long ago. We’re just texting and talking a little. I’m not asking her out or anything.”

  “What? Why not?” he asked. “The season just started. You still have a few months to see if you like her more than football,” he joked.

  I shot him the evil eye. “It’s complicated, okay?” I said, hoping he would drop it.

  “What’s so complicated?” he asked. “You like her. She likes you. You go out. You get laid. She gets happy. The end.”

  “It’s not that easy,” I said, feeling frustrated by the entire situation. “Her husband just died six months ago. She’s just not ready yet.” As soon as I said it, I knew I had opened up a new can of worms with him.

  “Wait . . . she’s the kid’s mom?”

  “Shut up, Deuce.”

  He laughed so hard I thought for sure he would fall off the treadmill. In fact, he laughed so hard I hoped he would fall off the treadmill.

  “First, you decide you really want to be the kid’s friend.”

  “His name is Jaxon.”

  “Jaxon, whatever. First you decide you want to be Jaxon’s friend. And now you have the hots for Jaxon’s mom?” he asked, still doubled over in a belly laugh. “What is it with this family?”

  “I didn’t say I had the hots for his mom,” I said. “You did.”

  “So you’re saying his mom isn’t hot.”

  “No.”

  “So she is hot.”

  “No,” I said getting frustrated. “I already asked her out and she turned me down. Ok? She’s not ready yet after losing her husband. Are you happy now?”