Love Happens

by Claudia Burgoa

  It was a poor substitute.

  I tried my hardest not to resent the fact that he had to leave, but it was difficult. I’d been so excited about having the whole night together. It wasn’t that I was angry with anyone—I completely understood and didn’t blame Scotty, Levi, or his sister—so maybe resentment isn’t what I felt. Maybe it was plain old disappointment. Sadness. A little envy for any girl who got to spend every night in the arms of the person she loved. I just wanted one night. One.

  Quit being selfish. So you didn’t get exactly what you wanted. So what? You had a lot more time than you’ve ever had together, and like you said—it’s about quality, not quantity. Think of all the things he said to you, the way he opened his heart. That’s worth something. That’s worth everything, isn’t it?

  I wanted it to be, and I believed that he loved me, but I couldn’t shake this nagging fear that he was going to decide I wasn’t worth the hassle of trying to juggle everything in his life to fit me into it. Like he said, he hadn’t been looking for love, hadn’t needed it or wanted it. Why should I think I’d be enough to change that?

  I slept fitfully and woke up to the sound of rain against my window. The clock said it was only eight thirty, so I tried going back to sleep, but I couldn’t. Eventually I gave up on sleep and made coffee, deciding to get a jump-start on my day.

  Around nine thirty, I was sitting at the breakfast counter with my laptop open when my phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, beautiful.”

  “Good morning.” Hearing his voice warmed my insides, and I couldn’t help smiling. “How are you?”

  “Tired. How are you?”

  “Good, a little tired. How’s Scotty?”

  “It was a rough night. But he was up at six thirty like nothing happened.”

  “Wow. That’s early. And you did all that driving last night, no wonder you’re tired.”

  “All the what I did last night?”

  I laughed. “Exactly.”

  “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.” My eyes strayed from the counter over to the fridge, and my stomach whooshed. “Are you going to church?”

  “Oh, yes. We don’t vary the schedule around here simply because Daddy got no sleep. The world might end.”

  “Poor Daddy. Maybe you can get a nap in later.”

  He sighed. “I’ll try. But there’s homework and laundry and other stuff too.”

  “I wish I could help you.” I looked around at my condo, which was beautifully furnished and always clean, but often felt empty and too quiet on weekends.

  “Me too. What are you up to today?”

  “Some chores. A little paperwork. Maybe grocery shopping. Dinner at my parents’ house later.”

  “With everyone?”

  “Yes.” I wish you could come too.

  “Say hello for me.”

  “Maybe one of these Sundays, you could join us. You and Scotty.”

  “Maybe.” But he didn’t sound that hopeful. “I better get us out the door. Don’t want to be late for Mass.” He lowered his voice. “Bad enough I’m showing my face there after everything I did to you last night.”

  I laughed. “I’m looking at my refrigerator right now.”

  “Is there a dent in it?”

  “Probably several.”

  He groaned. “I better go, or I’m going to walk into church with a very large erection.”

  “It is large. Even larger than Magik Mike.”

  He laughed. “You just made my day.”

  “Good.”

  I hung up feeling better.

  “I’m dying,” Skylar said, dropping onto the couch next to me. She shrugged out of her coat and dropped her bag to the floor. “I have to hear about last night.”

  “I promised Natalie I’d wait for her.”

  “Where is she?”

  “In the kitchen, helping Mom. Did you even go in and say hello yet?”

  “No. Natalie!” Skylar yelled.

  Sighing, I closed the magazine I’d been looking at and set it aside. “Where’s Sebastian?”

  “He and Miles are helping Dad move some equipment into the barn.”

  Natalie appeared in the family room doorway. “What?”

  “Get in here,” Skylar said. “I want to hear about Jilly’s night, and she won’t tell me without you.”

  Natalie’s face looked pained. “OK, give me one minute. I have to get the potatoes in the oven.” She darted back into the kitchen, yelling over her shoulder. “Don’t start without me!”

  “So was it amazing?” Skylar raised her sculpted brows.

  I sighed in response.

  “I knew it!” she squealed, clapping her hands. “I swear to God, the moment I saw you two together …”

  “Hey, you promised!” Natalie scurried in and sat on the floor in front of us.

  “Relax, I only asked her if it was amazing and all she did was this.” Skylar imitated my lovelorn sigh, making it much more dramatic, almost tragic.

  Natalie laughed and looked at me. “That good, huh?”

  “Yeah. I mean, it’s always good, but last night was different.”

  “What was different?” Skylar wanted to know.

  “We talked a lot. He really opened up to me.”

  Skylar swooned and fell back. “I love when those big, strong types get all talky and vulnerable. It’s so hot.”

  “It was,” I said. “But it was kind of sad, too.”

  “Why was it sad?” Natalie asked.

  “He’s just really hard on himself,” I said, careful not to reveal things Levi had told me in confidence. “In all things. He feels bad for not being able see me more often. He wonders if he’s making the right choices for Scotty. He regrets things from the past. He’s convinced he’s going to fail at trying to balance being a dad and a boyfriend, and he thinks I deserve more than he can give.”

  “Wow. What did you say?” Skylar leaned forward.

  “I told him I want him, and I understand I can’t be his first priority. I told him I can be patient, and we can go slow.”

  “And what did he say?” Natalie was rapt.

  “He said he loved me.”

  Skylar squealed and leaned back, kicking her feet, and Natalie’s jaw practically hit the floor. “So much for going slow!”

  “Oh my God, I’m dying.” Skylar sat up again. “And then what?”

  “I told him I felt the same, and then there was more sex.” I paused. “In a bed this time.”

  “Where was it before?” Natalie asked.

  “Uh, in the hallway at the front door. In the kitchen.”

  “The kitchen?” Skylar blinked.

  I nodded. “On the counter and against the fridge.”

  She fanned her face. “Oh my God. This is insanely hot.”

  “Yes … until he had to leave right in the middle of the bedroom episode to go pick up his son.”

  Her hand stopped mid-fan. “What?”

  I shrugged. “His sister called. Scotty wasn’t sleeping and wanted to come home.”

  “So he left?”

  “He had to. It’s not like Scotty was being difficult for no reason. He was really upset.”

  “What about you?” Natalie asked. “Were you upset?”

  “I was, but then I realized I was being selfish. I knew going into last night there was a chance that might happen. And we did have an amazing night … it just ended sooner than we wanted. He was as upset as I was. Maybe more.”

  “Wow.” Natalie leaned back on her hands. “That’s tough. Like, this could keep happening.”

  I nodded, feeling my fun mood dissipate a little. “It could.”

  “So now what?” Skylar asked, crossing her arms. “What’s the next step? Do you just keep going on dates once a week?” Her expression told me what she thought of that idea.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “We haven’t made any other plans. It’s hard because getting away is so tough for him.”
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  “Well then, you should go there. Hang out with him at home. Meet Scotty,” Skylar said firmly.

  I lifted my shoulders. “I’ve offered, so we’ll see. I think he’s nervous about it. I’m nervous about it.”

  “Of course you are,” Natalie said. “It’s more pressure than meeting someone’s parents. This is a person you’d have to live with, if things worked out. There’s a lot to consider.”

  I held up my hands. “Whoa. Don’t jinx me. We have strong feelings for each other, but it’s only been a month. And I do think there’s merit in going slow.” Deep breath. “I just want to keep going forward. Somehow.”

  Late that night, so late I was already in bed with the lights out, he called me again.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.” His voice was low and hushed.

  “Hey.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No. I’m in bed, but I wasn’t asleep yet.”

  “Thinking?”

  “Yeah.”

  “About what?”

  “About you. About last night. Truthfully, it’s been hard to think about anything else all day.”

  “I’m so sorry about how it ended.”

  “That isn’t what I meant, silly.” I rolled onto my side. “I was thinking about it in a good way.”

  “I know. I’m still sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. One interrupted night isn’t the end of the world. It was bad luck. We can give it some time and try again.”

  “Sure. I’ve been thinking about it today too … and it really was my fault.”

  “What was?”

  “The meltdown. Not only did I forget to pack the nightlight, but he’d had a really tough week at school. I should’ve known going off the routine was a bad idea.”

  “Math again?”

  “Among other things, but yes—he has a lot of anxiety about math tests, even though he can have the tests read to him, and he gets extra time.”

  “I used to get nervous about math tests too. Not that my anxiety is anything like Scotty’s,” I said quickly, “but I remember the nervous feeling. And you know what my dad did?”

  “What?”

  I laughed at the memory, which I hadn’t thought about in years. “He gave me a lucky stone.”

  “A what?”

  “A lucky stone—at least he claimed it was lucky. It was this Petoskey stone he’d found on the beach. He polished it for me, and I’d keep it in my pocket, then take it out and put it on my desk during a test. Or hold it in my left hand.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Maybe second or third grade?”

  “I’m trying to picture you at Scotty’s age. What did you look like?”

  I giggled. “Tall. Skinny. One shoe always untied.”

  “Adorable. So did the rock work?”

  “It did. I totally believed him that it was lucky, and I remember feeling much more confident about tests when I had it in my hand. Got any lucky stones lying around?”

  He laughed softly. “I’ll have to look. Anything is worth a try.”

  “I agree. And really, don’t feel bad about last night. If you’re going to think about it, think about the good parts.”

  “There were lots of those.”

  “There were.” My whole body tingled, and I hugged my knees to my chest.

  “Can I see you this weekend?”

  “Of course.” I crossed my fingers and ankles. Invite me to your house. Let me meet your son.

  “I need to check with my regular sitter, but would Friday work?”

  “Sure. That’s actually my birthday.”

  “Get the fuck out. It is?”

  I laughed. “Yes. I definitely wouldn’t invent a birthday. Who wants to keep getting older?”

  “We have to celebrate. I want to take you somewhere nice. Are you sure Friday night is open? Your family doesn’t want you on your birthday?”

  “I’m celebrating with family on Sunday. Friday’s yours if you want it. I actually took the entire day off.”

  “Did you really?”

  “Yes.” I took a breath. “You know, if you can’t get your sitter, I could come to your house or something …” I left it dangling, hoping he’d grab on.

  “Maybe. We’ll see. Wouldn’t be much of a date that way. And by that I mean there wouldn’t be any birthday sex. I’d be very, very sad about that. And it isn’t even my birthday.”

  I had to laugh. “OK, well, let me know. I only wanted you to know I’m up for that.”

  “I know you are, and I appreciate it.” He paused. “I love you.”

  I hugged my knees. “I love you too.”

  “Night.”

  “Night.”

  Setting my phone on my nightstand, I curled up again under the covers. I was a little disappointed he hadn’t offered to introduce me to Scotty yet, but I had to trust he’d know the right time. We were in love, yes, but it still felt young and fragile. Maybe more time was best.

  Levi

  I had a surprise visitor the next day at work.

  “Knock, knock, darling.”

  But she didn’t really knock. She just came right in.

  “Mom. Hi. What are you doing here?”

  “I was doing some shopping down this way and thought I’d stop by.” She tucked her silvery bob behind one ear. She’d gone completely gray in her thirties, so any day now I was expecting to wake up with a beard and head full of white, but so far it was only a few strays here and there.

  “Come in.” I gestured to the chairs in front of my desk. Since leaving my uncle’s firm, I worked for myself and rented office space in a building downtown. Working from home sounds good in theory, but I did it for a while and found it hard to separate home from work—I found it much easier to get shit done in both environments when I wasn’t tempted to avoid work in one by taking up a chore in the other.

  “I was wondering if you had time for lunch, actually.” She raised her eyebrows at me hopefully.

  I frowned at the work on my desk and rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know, Mom. I have a lot of things to get done before a meeting at Scotty’s school at two.”

  “Oh? About the IEP?”

  “Yes. Among other things.”

  “Well, let’s grab a quick bite and you can fill me in. I like to know how things are going with him, and we haven’t had a chance to talk much. You’re so busy these days.”

  Fucking Mom Guilt. Nothing worse. “I know, Mom. Sorry, I just don’t have a lot of spare time.”

  “I’m not blaming you, darling,” she said breezily. “I merely want to know how you’re doing.”

  I fought off the groan building in the pit of my stomach and turned it into more of an exasperated sigh. “I wish you would have called first. I could have planned for lunch with you.”

  “You’d have turned me down. I know you.” She arched a brow at me, then smiled cajolingly. “Come on. Humor your old ma. I won’t be around forever, you know.”

  I rolled my eyes. She might have just turned sixty, but she was as healthy and active as someone half her age. “OK. A quick bite.”

  She beamed. “Thank you. Shall we go now or do you need to finish something up?”

  “We can go now.” I closed my laptop. “I’ll pick up my dry-cleaning too.”

  “I could have done that for you today.” She was saying it to be nice, but somehow I felt it as another scolding—like I should have told her I had dry-cleaning to be picked up.

  “I didn’t know you were coming down, Mom. Remember?”

  “I know, but if you need help with things at home, I’m happy to do it,” she said, leading the way out of my office, through the little lobby area I shared with an accountant and an attorney. “The drive isn’t that far, and I’d love to see you and Scotty more often.”

  I shut my office door and followed her out, taking deep breaths. She’s not saying this to criticize you. She’s simply offering to help. “I know, and I appreciate it. I’ll let you kn
ow if I need anything.”

  We walked to a nearby diner and were seated at a small table near the window. After looking at the menu, I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and she ordered a Reuben. After my iced tea and her Diet Coke arrived, she put her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands.

  “So tell me what’s new. How is Scotty? At the birthday dinner, he seemed very preoccupied with his electronics.”

  “His iPad. He earns breaks with it when he does what he’s supposed to.”

  “Don’t you think he should do what he’s supposed to just because? Won’t he always expect a reward for behaving properly if you keep doing this?”

  I stiffened. “If this lunch is about criticizing my parenting, it’s over.”

  She held up her hands. “It’s not, it’s not. I’m sorry. You know best.”

  “I do.”

  “I only worry that as he gets older, it will get tougher on him. The school and his peers aren’t going to treat him like a baby.”

  “I don’t treat him like a baby, Mom. I treat him like he needs to be treated to get through his day and feel good about himself.”

  “OK, darling, don’t get upset. Without seeing you two every day like I used to, I don’t know the situation. Tell me about the IEP.”

  I filled her in on things at school, and she appeared genuinely concerned. “He wet himself? On purpose?”

  “Yes. Hoping that it would delay going to school, so he could miss the math test.”

  “Oh, the poor thing. I hope he doesn’t do that at school. The kids would be so cruel.”

  “I worry about that too,” I admitted. “But I can’t control how other people react to him. I’m trying to help by getting him a few more accommodations at school, but it’s an uphill battle. And I hate those meetings.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the focus is always on what he’s not doing, or what he’s doing wrong. He has a lot of gifts, and he’s so smart. Why can’t they figure out a way to help him learn based on what he does well? Why force a kid to take a test the same way as every other kid when, neurologically, he is not like those kids?”

  “What would help?”

  “More time. A separate room without any noise or distractions for testing. Allowing him to give verbal answers.”