by C. B. Stagg
Shaking her head with conviction, she said, “No, I don’t believe I am. He came from a home where the children raised themselves and adults were something to be feared, yet he trusts you completely. It’s like you flipped a switch inside his heart and he just woke up.” She snapped her fingers to emphasize her statement.
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so we stood in silence, side by side, watching practice for what felt like a very long time.
“Did you know he sings?” The words shook me out of my daze and I turned to look at her. “Not around us, but when he thinks we’re not listening, he sings songs. I’m pretty sure the music we listen to in the car is not what he was exposed to before, but it’s like this whole time he’s been soaking everything up like a sponge.”
Goose bumps broke out across my skin. “I was in foster care, too,” I offered randomly. I kept my eyes fixed on the field, finding it so much easier to be vulnerable when I could pretend no one was actually listening. “When Casey told me Julian’s story, it was almost like I already knew… like I could feel his pain deep inside me. Looking into his eyes, I saw myself. There was this energy and a familiarity when I was with Julian, pulling us together.”
She nodded. “Maybe you need him just as much as he needs you.” I chewed on that for a bit.
Whistles started blowing and just as quickly as the children came, they left with their families—off to take baths, eat dinner, and listen to bedtime stories. Childhood was so simple, or at least it should be. I think Julian was starting to feel his life simplify, in a way it hadn’t been before. He felt safety and love for probably the first time in his life and wore his newfound confidence like a badge of honor.
It was my honor to be a part of it.
After practice, Casey took me to get frozen yogurt, and as we sat down to eat, I brought up a topic—an important one to me. “Do you believe in a higher power? Something… I don’t know, bigger than humanity?”
My question was met with silence.
By now, I knew that silence meant Casey was thinking, measuring his words. “Well,” he turned his chair toward me, looking straight into my eyes. “I believe in God. I believe in Heaven and Hell, right and wrong. I believe Jesus died for our sins, and I believe He will come again. Does that about cover it?”
I let his words wash over me. If I could have written the perfect answer from the lips of the man I was falling in love with, it would have been that.
None of this seemed real. I reached out to touch his arm, just to verify that I wasn’t in some magical dream. This man, he’s the thing I never knew I wanted. My prince, wrapped up in a grumpy, hairy body.
“Me too.”
16-Casey
SIXTY DAYS AND COUNTING.
Typically, with something amazing on the horizon—something to look forward to—time seems to move at a snail’s pace. But that wasn’t the case for me as I awaited that sixty-day mark. Vaughn and I had worked out a great system that allowed us time together and time to live our daily lives. And as much as I wanted to spend every waking moment with her, I knew this was a healthier way to begin a relationship.
As friends.
As the weeks passed, Vaughn proved to be a skilled soccer coach. She poured herself into learning the game, as well as developing creative, skill-building activities. Her rapport with the kids was unparalleled, and she was quite the teacher. We won some games, we lost some games, but we never gave up. And as a coach, I could ask for nothing more. I’d never been more grateful that my meddling best friend placed Vaughn in my life. She opened my eyes to what I’d been missing; out of the darkness and into the light.
Most impressive though, was the progress Julian was making. He was speaking in two and three-word phrases both at home and at school. At soccer practice, he stuck close to Vaughn or myself, but he would attempt the activities as long as one of us was within a few feet of him. Donna and Vaughn assured me that this was enormous progress for a child with Julian’s past trauma.
Vaughn and Donna had developed a pretty tight bond, with Julian being the common denominator of course. With one having plenty of ‘mom experience’, and the other currently studying child development, they were the perfect team to advocate for the little boy who’d stolen all our hearts.
And as for our non-dates (which highly resembled real dates, just minus the physical contact)... they were perfection. Through our discussions, we found that while our backgrounds were about as different as night and day, our thoughts on life, family, politics, and religion were eerily similar. Each day, each conversation, each smile made me fall harder and harder.
Vaughn was becoming my best friend, so it was natural I’d want to see how well she meshed with the other two most important people in my life.
When Vaughn opened the door that Friday night, her beauty stunned me. We’d never done anything fancy before, but tonight we had plans to meet Jase and Becky downtown at a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant that only the locals knew about.
“Well, are you going to say something?” She stood with one hand holding the door open and the other on her hip, eyebrow cocked in wait. Her little black dress fit like she had been poured into it and her thick, auburn curls sat atop her head like a halo. She looked like a million bucks, and she knew it.
“God made woman beautiful and foolish.” Not wanting her to be offended that I’d just all but called her a fool, I continued. “Beautiful, that man might love her, and foolish, that she might love him.” Thank you, AP English III. And kudos to a mom who loved Shakespeare. With lines like that, I bet Shakespeare got all the chicks.
She took two steps toward me before throwing her arms around my neck. It was hard to maintain control, having now been reminded how well our bodies fit together. My hands naturally fell to her soft, curvy hips and I admired the familiar ease of this relationship we’d carved out for ourselves. My burgeoning love for Vaughn was starting to feel bigger than I was.
“Casey… ” She spoke against my chest; her warm breath sending carbonated bubbles of lust through my veins. “I’m scared.”
Immediately, I pulled back to look into her eyes. “Scared of what? Me?” She nodded ferociously and then looked up into my eyes.
“It’s just that there’s this fortress I’ve spent my entire life building around my heart, and with your magical words and the tilt of your lips, I’m watching it all fall apart. And with every touch of your hands, more and more crumbles, blowing away like a sand castle in the wind.”
Her words could not have more perfectly described my feelings had they been written with my own hand. “Well, I hope that wind continues to blow and then the tide rolls in, washing the entire thing away, because I have designs for that heart of yours and the sooner I get to it, the better.”
Vaughn shook her head. “I fear it’s too late for that, Mr. Clark.” With that, she grabbed my hand, closed the door behind her, and we headed down to my truck.
We arrived at Caffé Capri a few minutes late, just as Becky was walking in. She appeared flustered. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” I asked her, as she walked through the door I was holding, following Vaughn. We both immediately spotted Jase toward the back and headed that direction. Guiding Vaughn in Jase’s direction, he stood, pocketing the cell phone he’d just been looking at and stuck out his hand.
“Jase, I’d like you to meet Vaughn Jennings. Vaughn, my buddy, Jase." I stood back and watched my best friend and my girl make small talk.
Bec poked me in the side. “Do you see what I see?” Becky was pointing to the other two as she talked. “My God, they could be twins!”
At first I didn’t understand, but as I looked closer, I started to notice the similarities. Interesting. I pulled out a chair for Vaughn as Jase pulled one out for Becky and we attacked the garlic bread and the conversation as if we’d been meeting for dinner for years. Becky finally filled us in on why she’d shown up late and a little rattled.
“An adjunct professor in my department cornered me in
the parking garage and asked me out. He didn’t like my answer.” She went back to her salad, seemingly finished with her story, but thank God Vaughn wasn’t satisfied.
“Are you talking about Professor Adams? Why’d you turn him down? He’s hot.”
I cast a look toward Vaughn and she shrugged, mouthing ‘What? He is!’
“You know, I’ve known you for three years and I’ve never heard you mention even casually dating.”
She was right. Becky never dated. But before I could add my two cents, she breezily waved us off and started asking Jase about a case he’d been working on, effectively ending any and all conversation about her romantic life. That was nothing new.
Two hours later, as I walked Vaughn back to her apartment, she brought it up again. “Did Becky date in college?”
“Nope. Never.”
“Hmm… ” She stopped when we reached her door. “Did you notice how quiet Jase was when we were talking about it?”
Well, I hadn’t, but now that she brought it up, he was rather silent. I nodded.
“I think there might be something going on there.”
“With Becky and Jase?” I’d had my suspicions, but waved them off as my overactive imagination at work again, but it might be worth looking into.
She reached up and patted my cheek, shaking her head before unlocking her door. I stood back, forcing my hands into my pockets as a deterrent. I wanted nothing more than to run my fingers through that hair piled on her head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Casey.” She looked back at me, and her eyes told me all the things she couldn’t voice. She was barely hanging on, too. I nodded and started backing away.
“Meet me at my truck at 7:30 and we’ll get donuts before the game.” Vaughn’s thousand-watt smile was the last thing I saw before I turned, heading down the stairs toward my apartment.
That night had calmed any fears I may have had about my new relationship with Vaughn melding with my current life. And even though my life was becoming as close to picture perfect as I ever thought possible, there was always that feeling in the back of my mind that things were almost too good. There we were, happily floating through our time together, distracted by the butterflies that come with new relationships. But I fully expected gravity to kick in at any moment and bring us crashing back to Earth.
It was the week of day sixty, and we were just a few days away from all the friendship restrictions being lifted with our real first date fast approaching. I’d noticed on Monday that Vaughn was home early from school, which was odd. She was a very routine-oriented person. But Tuesday morning, the day she had her super early class, her car was still parked in front of her building when I left for work. That had never happened before.
I tried calling and texting her so many times Tuesday morning, but the calls went straight to voicemail and my texts went unanswered. Worried, I went home at lunch to check on her. When Vaughn came to the door, after knocking for several minutes, she was positively green. The poor girl looked as though she’d died sometime last week.
“Hey… what’s wrong, baby?” The tone in my voice reminded me of how my mom talked to my dad and our dogs, all sweet and sentimental.
Vaughn all but fell into my arms, so I carried her in and sat down on the couch with her on my lap. We’d agreed not to be alone together until my divorce was final and that was still a few days away. But she was sick, and there was no way I was letting her go through this alone. She'd had about enough of that.
“I think I have a stomach bug.” It broke my heart, hearing how weak her words were. She sounded depleted. “You should go. You might get sick, and I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.” Her mouth was telling me to leave, but by the way her body clung to mine, I knew she didn’t mean it.
I grabbed the red throw blanket flung over the arm of her couch and wrapped her up in it. “I have an iron stomach. I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but I wasn’t leaving, and I didn’t need her feeling guilty for that. Her skin was warm, and it felt as if she weighed nothing as her body curled into mine.
“How long have you been like this?” I felt her forehead for fever. “And why on earth didn’t you call me?”
“I know, I know. It started yesterday afternoon, and I assumed that it was one of those twenty-four-hour things.” She sighed against my chest, and I held her closer to me. “But it isn’t going away, I can’t keep anything down, and I am just so tired and miserable.”
I felt warm tears soaking my shirt, but I thought they were more out of frustration than from pain. Vaughn was such a strong woman—way stronger than I was—and she didn’t like being restricted just when she was starting to live.
I gently carried her to her room and tucked her into bed before calling in to work to let them know not to expect me back. Then I sent a quick text to a few soccer dads asking them to cover practice for me. I was going to nurse my girl back to health. We had big plans for Friday, our first official date, which meant I only had three days to get her feeling better.
Once she was tucked into bed and fast asleep, I hit the grocery store, on the hunt for sick person supplies. But first I called my mom for a list of what I might need. I’d talked to my mom about Vaughn on more than one occasion, and while I always maintained that we were keeping our relationship platonic, she was a very intuitive woman. Even over the phone, she could tell we had become much closer than I’d admitted to her. I denied it in the beginning for propriety’s sake, but at some point, I gave up. And now, every time I called, my mom asked about Vaughn before she asked about me.
“Hey, Mom, are you in the middle of something?” I was getting in my truck to head to the store, so I was glad she answered.
“Casey, it’s good to hear from you. How’s Vaughn doing?”
“Actually, that’s why I called. She’s really sick so I’m on my way to the store now. I was hoping you could tell me what I needed to get for her.”
“Well, what kind of sick are you talking about? The ‘coughing, runny nose, fever’ kind of sick?” She paused. “Or… ” Her voice changed, becoming low and ominous. “Is it the ‘can’t keep anything down, looks like death’ kind of sick?”
“The second one sounds about right.”
Then I waited…
And waited…
Finally, she responded.
“Oh, Casey… ,” she sighed. “I think the first thing you need to buy is a pregnancy te—”
“MOM! NO!” Oh. My. Dear. Lord. That did not just happen.
I laughed. It was soft at first, really only a chuckle. But before I knew it I was in full-blown hysterical laughter. I could tell my mom was not pleased with me, as she called my name—first, middle, and last—trying to get my attention several times before I was able to catch my breath and respond.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. But the picture of you sitting there, thinking I was calling because I knocked up my girlfriend before my divorce was even final was too much for me to take. Mom, I was serious when I told you we’ve kept it friendly… mostly.” I added that last part because of that first night, which seemed like a lifetime ago, looking back. “I assure you, Vaughn’s not pregnant.”
Now it was my mom’s turn to laugh, probably as much from relief than anything else. “Okay, phew… that really scared me. So she’s just got a stomach bug. That, I can help you with.”
I stayed on the phone with my mom the whole time I shopped so she could guide me through what I needed. I appreciated her taking the time to help me and couldn’t wait to take Vaughn home to introduce her to my family. But once we’d hung up and I was in my truck on the way home, my thoughts wandered to a picture of a very pregnant Vaughn. I was filled with a warmth and contentment I’d only known since meeting her.
Arriving back to the apartment, Vaughn was in the bathroom throwing up again, though it was mostly dry heaves since she had nothing left in her system. I felt so helpless, but I stayed to help her back into bed. Her place had definitely been neg
lected, so I cleaned up a bit, ran a few loads of laundry, and scrubbed her bathroom once she’d fallen asleep again.
That night, I slept on her couch. When I woke up in the morning, Vaughn was sitting at the end of the couch I’d been sleeping on. She’d pulled my feet onto her lap and was sipping the Gatorade I’d gotten the night before, absentmindedly rubbing my lower legs.
“Hey, you’re up? How are you feeling?” My voice was hoarse with sleep.
The corners of her mouth were turned up as she appraised my shirtless chest. “Well, I won’t be going anywhere today, but I’m not begging for a quick death. That’s an improvement from yesterday.” She giggled a bit, but her enthusiasm didn’t reach her eyes.
“I can stay. I can take care of you.” I sat up and gathered her into my arms. She had taken a shower and smelled of soap and mint. I was fighting a strong urge to kiss her, partially because I hadn’t brushed my teeth since the night before, and because I didn’t want any part of whatever virus she’d been dealing with for going on three days. I settled for resting my lips on top of her head, kissing her damp hair.
She let me for just a moment before getting up. “No, you’ve already done too much. You need to go to work. I’ll take the day to completely get over this nastiness and try to catch up on some schoolwork… ” Her voice faded to nothing.
I did what she asked, but only after changing her sheets, cleaning up around her room, and stocking her nightstand with water, Jell-O, ChapStick, and everything else my mom suggested she might need after a nasty bug like this. Reluctantly, I tucked her into bed and let myself out, knowing I’d be useless spending the rest of the day worrying about her. She knew I planned to check in after work, and I did, but she was asleep when I came back that evening. That was a good thing. I knew she needed sleep to heal, but that didn’t stop me from being concerned. Luckily, I came prepared to spend another night on her couch in case she needed me. That night was a little better than the one before.