Glimmer

by Ashley Munoz

  I wanted to fix it, clear up what I meant, but just as I went to speak, Jimmy jogged upstairs with Jasmine.

  I turned away, ignoring the stinging in my chest, and started looking for my purse. A second later, I heard Jimmy yell from the top of the stairs, “Don’t leave!”

  I looked up at him, locked my gaze on his, and felt the intensity in his words. I gave him a slight nod and continued towards the door. I found my purse and my jacket, and stood near the entryway, waiting for the awkward moment when I got paid for babysitting. Like a fifteen-year-old. The funny thing was, I didn't even want money for watching them. I had the best moments of my life tonight, and I couldn't stomach getting paid money for it.

  After a few minutes, Jimmy came back down the stairs. His jaw wasn't ticking, but his lips were still in a thin line… still displaying the frustration from earlier, and maybe because I was standing near the door—ready to make my quick escape.

  He walked only as far as the couch, leaving me alone in the entryway. He was goading me back into the living room, probably to talk about how awkward I am and how I shouldn’t imply that he’s a player in front of his kids. I was hoping to apologize quickly, kind of like ripping off a band-aid, then he could just slip me money if he absolutely had to, and I would be on my way. I guess my plan wasn’t going to happen if we needed to sit.

  I reluctantly crossed my arms over my chest and walked towards the couch. He moved enough to let me by while I took a seat at the end of the couch. He walked around and sat on the chair across from me.

  His face transformed under the lamplight. Gone were his thin lips and furrowed brow, and their place was a smile as he took his seat. “Do you want anything to drink?” he quietly asked.

  I didn’t want to move around the chessboard of our emotional conversation any more than we already had, so I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m okay.”

  He gave me a slight nod, then placed his hand behind his neck. His eyes wouldn't meet mine. Instead, they searched the carpet, like some thread of fiber down there would give him what he was looking for. Finally, his green eyes met mine.

  “Ramsey, look, the reason I went to your house today was to apologize for how I acted at the bar.”

  Crap, he took my moment. I tried to recover. “No. It’s me who needs to apologize. I should have heard you out today. I'm sorry for how I acted. I hope that we…”

  I stopped, not sure how to say it, and I realized too late that by asking this, I was being vulnerable with him. Still, I needed to say it, so I tried again. “I was hoping we could start over, from the bar, my house, the interview, all of it. Can we do that? I know I was a jerk in the parking lot, but…”

  He cut me off. “No, I was totally the jerk when I reacted to you and didn’t give you the interview you deserved. I’m not apologizing for scaring you on the highway, though; you drive like a grandma.”

  I smiled at him, it wasn't often that I got to see guys like him apologize. I stuck my hand out, like a dork, hoping he would understand the gesture. “Friends, then?”

  He looked at my hand, then my eyes, leaned forward and put his hand in mine. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  He smiled, shaking my hand, and I was feeling butterflies in my stomach over it. It took me off guard, so I pulled my hand back and rummaged through my purse for my phone. I didn't know how else to end the moment, and I felt like a total coward.

  His white teeth flashed as he let out a soft laugh. He looked around the room and pulled his arms in across his chest. My eyes were drawn to the tattoos that were on display on those lean arms. He had black lines running down each bicep, like a leaking flag. Below each line was a small number, then below that, was an insignia of some sort—a skull with wings, the word 'BRASS' within it. I cleared my throat and moved my gaze to the TV instead of his arms or tattoos.

  I regained my train of thought, asking him, “So when’s your next date or night out? Maybe I can come hang out with the kids.” I watched his face transform from easygoing, even relaxed, to angry again. His jaw ticked, and eyebrows drew together, it was like watching a storm. Beautiful and terrifying. Maybe he didn't want me to come back after all?

  “Sorry that was a little presumptuous of me, I shouldn't have asked that,” I corrected, while internally kicking my own ass for throwing myself out there like that.

  His eyebrows shot up and his green eyes searched my face as confusion washed over his own. “No, that’s not it at all, I just—" He stopped and looked back down at the carpet for a moment before continuing. "I hate dating. I won’t see the girl I took out tonight again. I don’t have any future plans, but my kids clearly like you, so maybe…”

  He trailed off and let out a big breath of air. “Maybe we could just have you come over and spend time with us? With them, I mean, or us. You know, Theo seems to like you too, regardless of how he chooses to express that."

  I scoffed lightly at the memory of Theo talking about his son the other night. I definitely didn't see myself sitting in front of that same son, discussing babysitting wages and hanging out.

  Jimmy spoke again, mistaking my silence for reluctance. "I could pay you each time you come over if you want, or you could just accept the accountant job at my bar.”

  He slid that last part in so smoothly, I nearly missed it. I was already looking at him, because I was trying to be extra polite while he was talking, but as soon as I fully registered the seriousness of what he said, I began stammering. “What did you say?”

  He smiled and leaned up from his chair. “Look, Ramsey, I did my homework. You're quite the catch—professionally, I mean—and all the other idiots I have interviewed didn't come close to having as much experience as you. Would you please, at least consider it?”

  Consider accepting my current dream job? Ha! I tried to come off as unaffected, cool when I calmly replied, “Yeah, sure, I'd like that.”

  Jimmy smiled, his teeth flashed again, and his eyes lit up, I would assume he might be on the verge of laughter when he asked, "Is that a yes? Or, an 'I'll think about it'?"

  I smiled back and stuck my hand out again. "Yes, I accept the job offer… officially." Why did I keep holding out my hand?

  Ending the handshake rather abruptly, I stood up, adjusted my purse, then started for the door.

  Jimmy followed me. “So, just show up on Monday at nine a.m. Oh, and let me pay you for tonight,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

  I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “Jimmy, honestly, I couldn't take money for hanging out with your kids. I only suggested more babysitting gigs here to see them." I pushed some hair behind my ear and swung my purse forward in an awkward movement, then added, “You have really great kids.”

  He gave me another big smile. “I do have great kids. Well, they're smitten with you, both asked me some very interesting questions about you,” he finished with a snort.

  I smiled weakly and tried to join in his joking, but it was all feeling too real. “Yeah, Sammy has propositioned me for a spot here and Jasmine seems to be trying to find me a perfect date, so I'm not sure what they're planning.” I said, while laughing. I took a step toward the door and reached for the handle, but Jimmy casually beat me to it, then lightheartedly asked, “Oh yeah? What exactly is that position here that Sammy’s offering you?”

  I looked down at my feet. “Uh, maybe you should ask him that.” Then I turned and walked out the door, giving Jimmy a quick wave and a sweet, “Night.”

  As I walked to my car, I noticed that Jimmy was watching me from his doorstep. It was like everything had changed. Not just between Jimmy and me; in a weird way, it felt like my whole life had just changed and now I was officially employed. I could dance with how happy I was right now, but I'd wait until I was clear of Jimmy's driveway. You know, for appearances.

  It was Sunday afternoon and I was supposed to be cleaning up the books for the bar. I didn't want Ramsey to walk into a complete mess and assume that I was just a lazy business owner. But balancing figures wasn’t m
y strong suit, especially when none of the totals were matching up. It also didn't help that I couldn't get the previous night out of my mind.

  I kept replaying moments, like when Ramsey stared at me while lying next to me under the stars, or how she looked sandwiched between my kids on the trampoline. I couldn't get the feel of her hand in mine out of my brain. I felt like I was in middle school again. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head so that I could just focus on cleaning up the books, but if I was being honest with myself, it was difficult to not have any promises of seeing Ramsey today. I only met her a few days ago, but I was already trying to figure out a way to see her again. I realized that's not healthy, at all, and I should resist it.

  I lowered my head into my hands and let out a long, frustrated breath. These intense feelings were dangerous, and seeing Ramsey with the kids, hearing the kids talk about her, it was just too much. The look on both Jasmine’s and Sammy's faces when I tucked them into bed last night showed how affected they were by her too. The conversation with Sammy was on repeat in my head.

  “Daddy, don’t you think Ramsey is pretty?”

  “Yes, I do Sammy, what does that have to do with you going to bed?”

  “Nothing, but I like Ramsey, and I think she's pretty.”

  “Yeah, I think so too buddy, but you need to go to bed.”

  “If you're looking for a shine, Dad, why don't you pick her?”

  “Sammy, we just met her. It's way too soon to be talking about that type of stuff. Besides, how do you know she's worthy of you guys?”

  “Because she played hide and seek with me, Dad, duh…”

  It was messing with me, as I remembered a similar conversation with my own father when I was close to Sammy's age. One that changed the way I would look at women forever, and more importantly, how I would love them.

  I shifted in my office chair and tried to keep my eyes off the framed photo of my mother. She died shortly after Jasmine was born, and I haven't stopped missing her a single day since. My mother was the type of woman who knew what she wanted in life, regardless of how broken, misshapen, or weird. If she wanted it, she'd get it and nurse it back to life, until it showed all the beautiful potential she knew it had from the beginning. I held the black frame in both my hands and traced the lines of my mother's beautiful face with my eyes. It took me back to that conversation I couldn't seem to shake. The memory of it, so intense and clear.

  “Daddy, how do you know that you love Mommy?” I asked while climbing into bed and getting settled under my covers.

  Dad started laughing. I wanted to roll my eyes at his laughter, but I didn't. I didn't want to get in trouble right before bed. He always laughed when I asked big kid questions, but I felt pretty grown up these days, especially after today.

  “Jimmy, you're seven years old and you already have women problems?” Dad joked, but he didn't know how right he was. I shimmied down further into my bed, trying not to get embarrassed as I talked about Nora, the girl who kissed me.

  “Well, I have questions about girls, not problems,” I mumbled, while looking over at my Ninja turtle lamp, hoping he'd ignore the growing color in my cheeks.

  Dad ran his hands through his dark hair and got that far-off look; it's the look he got when he thought about my mom. As if she heard him silently calling her, Mom made her way into my room, holding a laundry basket full of clothes.

  Dad looked up at her and gave her that smile. It was the one I noticed he used only on her.

  She caught it, like she always did, and smiled back, pushing her dark blonde hair out of her face. My mother was the most beautiful woman in the world, even prettier than Nora Clark.

  “Boys, what are you up talking about so late? Don't you have school tomorrow, young man?” she asked, raising her eyebrow while looking directly at me.

  Dad laughed again. I liked seeing his big white teeth flash when he laughed. He held out his hand and pulled on my mother's arm until she landed in his lap, causing her to drop the basket. Then he wrapped his big arms around her.

  “Jimmy’s curious about how I know that I love you,” Dad said, while looking up into Mom's eyes. They were green, like mine.

  “Well, Jimmy, that's easy. It's because of the glimmer,” she said happily while jumping up, turning around, and kissing my dad. Then she leaned forward and kissed my forehead before leaving the room. I remember Dad lovingly watch her leave the room and continued to stare at the door, as if lost in thought. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, slightly leaning forward with one elbow perched on his knee and that bright Mom-grin on his face.

  I stared up at my plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that covered my ceiling and asked, “What's the ‘glimmer,’ Dad?”

  Dad rubbed his dark beard while thinking, then leaned in. “You know how we light fireworks on the Fourth of July?"

  "Yes, it's my favorite holiday!" I yelled back at him. I had a good feeling about this glimmer thing, if it had to do with fireworks.

  Dad laughed, then kept going. "Well, you know those fireworks that we light and right when we think they're done, it lights back up and keeps going?"

  I nodded. "Those ones are our favorites," I told him, thinking back on the last time we had one do that.

  Dad nodded. "Well, the glimmer that your mom mentioned, it's like one of those fireworks." He leaned in even closer and started almost whispering, like it was a secret. "When you find that one special person that you love more than anyone else, you see this wonderful light, and even when you think it's done for and it might go out, it lights back up again and keeps going."

  Dad cleared his throat, like he swallowed something hard to get down, like maybe he needed some milk. I did that when I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches too fast.

  "Your mama would just keep shining for me, even when I thought we were done. She led me home with that glimmer, her light. That's how you know; when they keep glowing and you find your way home." He trailed off and then rubbed his beard some more as he added, "Love is a funny thing, son. It's not always perfect, it's not always fun. It takes work and finding the right person who's worth it," Dad said with a twinkle in his eye and a small smile on his face. "Your mother had something no other woman had for me. She'd shine, but when things got tough between us, her light would dim, but never go out. It was like a glimmer, a faint and wavering light, always there, willing to shine no matter the darkness." He then leaned in and kissed my forehead. I smiled up at him, not really knowing what to say. He must have known because he ruffled my hair, then turned my lamp off and left my room.

  I didn't understand much after the firework part, but it still felt nice to have some kind of explanation. I liked Nora, but she didn't feel like one of those fireworks.

  I shrugged my shoulders and snuggled back into my bed. I pictured myself following one of those green tank fireworks down the street. It was all lit up and the cardboard wheels on the side would spin, rolling past house after house until it led me back home.

  I smiled, happy, knowing what a glimmer meant and knowing that one day, I would find my own special light.

  I swallowed the golf ball-sized lump that was starting to form in my throat at the memory and put my mother's picture back. Suddenly, that need to see Ramsey, to have her included in our weekend, was overwhelming me. So much so, that I broke down and pulled out my cell phone. I pulled up Ramsey’s contact info and sent off a quick text.

  Me: Hey, it's Jimmy…sorry to bug you on your day off, but I'm trying to prep the books for you to take them over. I was wondering if you'd be against me asking you for help?…I need some clarification on a few accounting terms.

  It was only eleven in the morning, and she might not even be awake yet. Hopefully, she wouldn't read too much into it.

  But then again, maybe I wanted her to read too much into it. I needed coffee, or to go for a drive, I needed to get my mind off her. She's too good for you and your Brass past, idiot.

  I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the images of the Br
ass and prison. Images that still liked to haunt me and remind me of how much I didn’t deserve in this life. How much I'll never have.

  I tried to focus back on the computer screen in front of me when my phone dinged. I looked down and saw an incoming text.

  Ramsey: Ha ha, my day off, I see what you did there. Yes, I would be happy to help, would you consider coming over here to talk? Mom is actually really struggling today and could use the company. Maybe the kids and you could come, and maybe even your dad if he’s free? I was going to barbeque, no pressure though.

  I was punching in my reply when another text from her came in.

  Ramsey: Sorry, that was really sucky of me. You probably have plans and I used my sick mom. Please Please Please disregard what I said and just text me what you need help with.

  I couldn't help the laugh that escaped from me. She was so damn cute when she was insecure. I punched out the rest of my reply and hit send.

  Me: We would love to come over. The kids have been bugging me all day about when they were going to see you next, so this is perfect. What can I bring?

  I jumped up and ran to my bathroom to get in the shower. Once I was out, I double-checked my phone to see what I might need to bring with us and nearly fell over from laughter. There were several more texts from Ramsey,

  Ramsey:

  11:12 am: “Just bring your body”

  11:12 am: “Crap, autocorrect. Your bodies!!”

  11:14 am: “Wait, that sounds just as weird, just come.”

  11:14 am: “Agggghhhhhh, dang it.”

  11:16 am: Let me try this again. Please feel free to bring anything you'd like, but really just showing up with whoever can make it, would be fine.

  I took a screenshot of the texts, just so that I could look back on this conversation anytime I might need a good laugh. I shot her another text and had a really difficult time not flirting with her, especially because she was clearly embarrassed that it came off like she was flirting with me. I typed and retyped my response; the desire to blur the lines with her was frustratingly strong. I finally just decided that I needed to keep it clean.