Where We Left Off

by Megan Squires

  “How long have you been alone?”

  “Oh.” I jolted. My eyebrows raised to my hairline as I asked, “You want to go that complicated tonight?”

  “Complicated is all there is anymore. We’re adults.”

  “Unfortunately, I think you’re right about that,” I agreed. “Well, Kayla left me about six months ago. Legally, at least. She’d left long before that.”

  “I can’t imagine how awful that must’ve been.” From across the gap of space, she extended a hand and it fell softly on my knee. A fiery heat licked across my cheeks and my heart forgot a few beats, but I loved how all that felt deep inside. I wanted her to keep her hand there forever.

  “I think you must know exactly how it feels, having lost your own husband.”

  She pulled her hand back, but not in recoil. “I didn’t lose Dylan’s love, just Dylan. There’s a difference. He never stopped loving me, he just couldn’t love me anymore.”

  I wanted to tell her that I never stopped loving her, either, because I got the sense she thought I had, that she could relate to losing love in that way.

  I didn’t say it, though. I let the elephant hang out in our room a little bit longer.

  “I’m sorry your wife left, Heath.” Her coffee was drained but she swished the empty cup in her hands, the dark residue pooling in the bottom of the mug. “Are you at least still friends?”

  Bitter liquid burned my throat. I had to clear it with a cough, then I settled my drink onto the side table next to me. I looked directly at Mallory. “Is it ever possible to remain friends when someone breaks your heart?”

  Her lips pursed. She nodded slowly like she understood what I was implying, but I wasn’t sure what I was saying, or why I’d said it. It was just something that had to come out. “I hope it is.”

  “I do too, Mallory.” I hid behind my cup as I said again, “I really do.”

  Mallory

  “Why does the water have to be this cold?”

  My fingers were prunes, all puckered and lined. This was the normal state of them lately, and it had never bothered me before, but now, with the potential for someone to actually hold my hand, I suddenly wanted to avoid old lady wrinkled skin at all costs.

  “You ever see flowers in a pot of boiling water?” Vickie slipped another piece of greenery into the rose bouquet but, unhappy with its placement, she plucked it from the vase just as quickly and threw it to the counter. She curled fingers over the edge of the table. “You get used to the chill. I don’t even notice it anymore. Must have ice water running in these veins.”

  Over the last week, I’d come to genuinely look forward to my days at the shop. Vickie turned into an instant friend and confidante. Along with that—as if it weren’t enough—she’d transformed the break room into an unofficial day care center. The moment she’d found out I was a single mother with a little one to care for at home, she’d insisted that Corbin accompany me to work. I’d refused her offer for a solid two hours until her offer was no longer an offer, but had become a genuine demand. She could not, in good conscience, allow me to leave my baby behind when there was a perfectly good crib, playpen, and changing table on the premise.

  The thing was, there weren’t any of those things. At least, not until after I’d returned from my lunch break that afternoon, only to discover the small room in the back of the building remodeled to comfortably welcome the stay of a young child.

  The word no did not belong in Vickie’s vocabulary; she just wouldn’t allow her ears to register its meaning. I’d recently learned to allow others the opportunity for generosity. That was a game changer. There was no sense in being stubborn for the sake of politeness when the polite thing was to let others extend a generous hand if they so desired. Sometimes we needed to give. Sometimes we needed to receive. This was the sort of give and take that made the world go round.

  “So, tell me about Heath.” I couldn’t see Vickie over the foliage she now stuffed into a hollowed out birch log, but something in her tone gave away a playful expression. “Other than the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

  “Vickie!” I squawked. “He’s just a friend.”

  “Oh, sure he is. I saw the friendly way he looked at you yesterday when he came by. That is one absolutely lovesick man.”

  There was no color in my face. All blood drained from my cheeks and I could feel it leave, the plug pulled. “Honestly, he’s an old friend. We’ve only recently reconnected.”

  Vickie’s penciled eyebrows sprang up. “Just how much have you reconnected?”

  “Would you stop?” I swatted her arm as I headed toward the glass case and to place our three most recent arrangements on display. As I was sauntering back to the counter, I bumped into Lucas, my shoulder smacking against his chest.

  “I’m so sorry, Miss Quinn!” He was apologetic and flustered, a typical state for him. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “It’s no biggie, Lucas. I wasn’t watching where I was going, either.”

  “No, she was too busy daydreaming about her long, lost lover!”

  “Vickie!” She was relentless with the teasing, though I wasn’t actually bothered by it. I’d become a giddy schoolgirl and the butterflies that tagged along weren’t unwelcome.

  Heath and I had been texting all week since the recital, with the occasional phone call in between. Hours ticked down along with daylight and conversation filled the dark moments of night, ones which usually held sleep and dreams. There was never any shortage of topic or story. In fact, he’d just texted me a half hour earlier and my fingers were eager to reply, but I’d planned to wait until my break to respond. There was an anticipation present that birthed a few more butterflies, and I liked having them around.

  “That is really bizarre,” Lucas said as he placed a cardboard box on the counter. “My English teacher just reconnected with an old high school girlfriend. Must be something in the water.”

  “Mallory? What is Heath’s last name?” Vickie asked, her wheels spinning.

  “McBride.”

  In choreographed unison, Vickie and Lucas’s mouths popped open.

  “Someone’s hot for teacher!”

  “Mom!”

  “I can’t believe you’re in love with Lucas’s teacher! This is too perfect!”

  “I’m not in love with him.” This conversation was slipping from me. “I mean, I used to be, but that was a long time ago.”

  Lucas brought another large package from the back room and deposited it next to the other. “I’m not sure it was so long ago for Mr. McBride, the way he talks about it.”

  “He talks about it? I mean, about me?”

  “Yeah. Just yesterday he was asking the class what the latest baby trends were. Not completely sure why he thought we’d have any idea. Maybe because we’re closer in age or something? I don’t know.”

  “Has he met Corbin yet?” Vickie’s voice lifted more octaves than should’ve been possible. “Oh my gosh, when is he meeting Corbin?”

  “Tonight. They’re meeting tonight.”

  With her hands clasped to her chest, Vickie swooned, her eyes closed shut. “This love story keeps getting better and better!”

  I smiled, albeit hesitantly, hoping she was right.

  He wouldn’t remember this. Of course, he wouldn’t. Memories began much too late in life. My first was from when I was five years old and I’d fractured my arm when I took a hard spill off the swing at the neighborhood park. First formed memories always seemed to be of the tragic kind.

  I supposed there was some protection in that, though, to be able to introduce Corbin without him knowing the enormity of it. Because this felt enormous. I’d kept Corbin away from other men, unintentionally, but still, I hadn’t let anyone significant into his life. I couldn’t say if Heath would stay a significant part of mine, but there was significance in what we once had, and from that alone it felt appropriate for the two to meet.

  “Corbin,” I whispered against his chin. His skin smelled like swe
et potatoes and had a sugary, orange film on it. “Corbin, I have someone very special I’d like you to meet.”

  With his palm, he placed his hand to my cheek, the way he always did. He was dressed in a yellow onesie with an embroidered blue monkey across the chest. I loved him in this, where his legs peeked out and his rolls were accessibly squeezable. There was nothing better in this world than a squishy baby.

  “We don’t need to be nervous,” I convinced, but it didn’t work much to alleviate the anxiety forming in my chest, churning in my belly. “He’s going to love us.”

  I’d spent more time than I needed getting Corbin ready. Three times I’d rehearsed in front of the mirror that hung over his changing table. Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Please let this go well. That hadn’t rhymed, so for another ten minutes, I tried to come up with words that flowed nicely until I realized the absurdity in my procrastination. It was a time waste, and chances were Heath wasn’t even waiting in the family room where I’d left him anymore. Maybe he’d lost interest in the introduction altogether. I couldn’t tell if I was dreading that, or hoping for it.

  Finally, I made up my mind.

  “Let’s do this.”

  I strode out of Corbin’s room, baby on my hip.

  Heath

  “Heath?” Mallory’s voice wavered with her uneven footsteps. “Heath, this is my son, Corbin.”

  I stared at them, in absolute, unabashed awe.

  He had her mouth, the easy smile that curled her upper lip just a little too high and revealed her pink gums. But he was all gums. He had her coloring, too. Fair and redheaded with a hint of blond waving through his fine baby curls like highlights of gold.

  But the eyes belonged to someone else. It startled me, almost, to know that looking into this boy’s eyes was to glimpse into his father’s.

  They braved a cautious step forward.

  “Heath.” Mallory extended her hand. “Corbin.” She patted her son on his round stomach. “Corbin, Heath.”

  I gulped back my nerves and said, “Hi.”

  She grasped Corbin’s hand and lifted it up, gesturing a wave. “Hello.”

  I took them in. I didn’t know this child at all, but something burrowed sharply in my chest. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was, or if a name existed to define it. Maybe it was gratitude. Gratitude that Dylan gave Mallory such a perfect little person. Whatever it was, it was a sensation I knew I wouldn’t quickly forget, and I hoped Mallory would give me the chance to let this feeling grow even deeper.

  It was a gift I was well aware I needed to earn: the right to join into their life.

  “Would you like to hold him?”

  Hold him, raise him, either one.

  “Of course.” A false confidence accompanied my exuberant response. The last time I’d held a baby was at one of Kayla’s friend’s coed baby showers. I’d had no idea why baby showers for couples existed. Very rarely were the men even remotely interested in the corny games, boxes and boxes of newborn diapers, and spit up that occurred during them. This couple had waited until after their baby was born to celebrate. I figured it was because they weren’t finding out the gender until she delivered, and a shower would be more successful gift-wise once everyone knew if they were buying for a boy or a girl.

  Holding that particular baby didn’t go well. She’d had a blowout, whatever that meant, and for the remaining two hours of the party, I’d sported a mustard seed-looking stain in the shape of an owl on the thigh of my jeans. I didn’t figure I was the baby type.

  Until Corbin reached for me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course,” Mallory said, stepping closer to hand him off. “He doesn’t have stranger anxiety yet. You’ll be fine.”

  Babies were funny things. I could not think of any other creature on earth that you could hold which would give such an overwhelming feeling of peace, just by taking it into your arms. Maybe a puppy. Puppies loved unconditionally and were equally as cute, and slobbery, too. But for the first time in my life, I thought seriously about what it would be like to be a father. Mallory had said Corbin wore her heart, and as his beat, pressed up against my chest, I could feel hers there, too. It was remarkable.

  “He likes you.”

  “You think?”

  I didn’t want to delude myself into believing it meant anything when she stepped closer, her body sandwiching Corbin between us. “I definitely think so.” She wrapped her arms around us both. “Absolutely.”

  A date with a baby made for a casual evening. Rather than a meal that required cloth napkins and waiters in penguin suits, we’d headed down the road to Harvey’s BBQ, where the tablecloths were checkered, and wet wipes provided. Watching Mallory annihilate half a rack of ribs was just about the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. And when I thought she was ready to throw in the towel, she’d snag another piece, devour it with ease, and toss it on the pile of discarded bones like she was a carnivorous animal.

  “You got a little something.” She motioned toward my cheek as we were finishing our dinner.

  “Oh, yeah?” I teased. “Well, you got a whole lot of something all over.” My hand made an all-encompassing, sweeping movement across her face.

  Ripping the packet with her teeth, she unfolded the wet wipe and pulled it over her mouth, dragging the contents of about a bottle’s worth of barbecue sauce with it. “There really is no attractive way to eat this, is there?”

  “I disagree completely,” I said but didn’t add anything more.

  I was informed that eight months was the age when solid meats were introduced into babies’ diets, so Corbin even got to join in on the meal. About halfway through, though, his eyes drooped and his head lolled, fighting back sleep that came in waves.

  “It’s past his bedtime.” Mallory pointed a half-eaten rib toward her son, who was now slumped low in his highchair, eyes shut. “Actually, it was over an hour ago.”

  “We should get him home then.” The restaurant hummed with chatter and I scanned the room for our waiter. I flicked a finger at him to indicate the check and he nodded and scurried off to retrieve it. “You should’ve told me.”

  “I wasn’t ready to leave.”

  “Leave me? Or the ribs? You seemed to really enjoy the ribs.”

  She popped her thumb into her mouth and sucked it clean and I swear the room shot up to about a thousand degrees. I could not have her doing things like that, especially not with her baby right there. My entire body responded not so innocently to that one purely innocent gesture.

  “I enjoyed both equally.”

  I shrugged, coy in my movements. Flirting with Mallory was an easy rhythm. “You are more than welcome to keep enjoying me.”

  “Heath McBride! Are you inviting yourself back to my place?”

  “Not if you invite me first.”

  When the waiter came by, I signed the check, but I didn’t look up to hear Mallory’s answer, worried that maybe I’d taken things a step too far.

  “Would you like to come home with me, Heath? I can’t promise anything more exciting than giving the baby a bath and possibly finishing the half-eaten box of truffles I’ve had since Easter, but you’re welcome to join us if that sounds like fun.”

  I snatched the diaper bag from the empty seat next and slung it over my shoulder. “That sounds perfect, actually. Let’s go.”

  Corbin’s bedtime routine didn’t take long but the poor little dude could hardly keep his eyes open during it. If it were up to me, I would’ve placed him in his crib fully clothed and worried about the bath and the outfit change in the morning since we literally had to wake him in order to put him back to sleep. But there was a pattern here and Mallory insisted that babies did best when they kept a consistent and predictable schedule. You learned something new every day and tonight had been my crash course in toddler rearing. But I also knew there was so much more to learn, and I was eager for that opportunity.

  I was currently waiting in the family room while Mallory sang her son goodnight.
Her voice was that of an angel as it trilled out of the monitor on the fireplace mantel, and I closed my eyes to listen. I’d traveled a little while in college and as a result had visited two of the wonders of the world, but it felt like this should count as a new one. Mallory’s voice was something to marvel at. I’d become so lost in the notes, that when she suddenly appeared behind me, I snapped from my reverie with a jolt.

  “Sorry,” she said, always an apology readied. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Where’d you learn to sing like that?” When we’d been together, it wasn’t something I knew about, this musical talent of hers.

  “I took a few voice lessons down at the church right after Dylan died. Someone had said it was good to keep busy, especially in the beginning. I also registered for a belly dancing class, but I promise you, I’m not nearly as skilled at that.”

  “Oh, I think I should be the judge of that.” Playfully, I reached my fingers out to graze her stomach and Mallory’s eyes shot open. “I’m sorry.”

  She took a prolonged breath and let her air back out with her words, those coming in a rush. “No, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting that. That’s all.”

  Confusion was a challenging emotion. Ironically, there was room for hope where it was involved. If things had been black and white, then I’d know exactly what next move to make, good or bad. But the fact that moments of uncertainty passed between us like some current or charge, that gave me something to cling to. This wasn’t a complete rejection, but it wasn’t an invitation, either.

  “Mallory? What are we doing?”

  Relief crossed over her features. “Honestly? I have no clue.” She swept her hair back from her face to tuck it behind her ear. I’d done that so many times when we were together, and my fingers begged to do it again. I jammed them into my pockets to keep them from making a fool of me or acting out on their own accord. Those damn things had a mind of their own.

  Mallory continued, “All I know is one moment we’re together, the next you’re gone and I never hear from you again. And it’s like you took all of those feelings with you, and now you’re back—now they’re back—and I don’t know what to do with it all.”