My fingers are fumbling on my phone as I exchange numbers with her. When did I turn into a teenager hot for his first date? “There,” I save the contact. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“Thanks again,” she waves. “I promise your office will look amazing when I’m done with it.”
“I have no doubt,” I watch as she gets in her car and backs out. And I truly do have no doubt. I watch until I can’t see her anymore on the street. The silence is almost deafening as I realize how nice it was to have someone here for a change.
8
Hadley
My shoulders are tight and my eyes sting when I close them. My fingers curve into my palms as I resist the urge to rub them. I’ve been told it’s the worst thing I can do, but God it feels so good.
I need some of those liquid tears, or whatever, the eye doctor keeps telling me about. I’m pretty sure those things are made out of unicorn tears, though, because of how much my copay is for them. When they told me the price, I said forget it, but damn my eyes hurt. Maybe after the sale I’m having for Halloween I’ll be able to afford them, but until then I’m stuck with pushing through. Story of my life for the past few years.
Making the planner pages and the stickers all require me to be on the computer for a while. Add that to the time I’m on the computer at my day job and my eyes constantly hurt. Data entry is a freakin’ bore, but it pays the majority of the bills right now. Maybe one day I’ll be able to work from home full-time, but for right now, I’ll have to remember to go get the eye drops I saw at the drug store. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s almost two am. I don’t even know how it got to be that late.
Maybe I’ll be able to sleep a little later in the morning since it’s Saturday, but I know my girl. Riley gets up with the birds, and I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way, but I’m tired. For once I wish I could sleep with no alarm clock and instead wake up when I’m ready to. It’s been years since I’ve done that.
Deciding I’ve done enough for the night, I turn off everything and shut down my computer. A shower would feel amazing on my shoulders, but it would probably wake up Riley in our small apartment. Instead, I turn on the heating pad I have and lie down, welcoming the softness of my pillows and sheets. It takes the heating pad a minute or so to warm up, but when it does, I sigh, because the heat feels so good against my tight muscles. It’s turned into the only thing that allows me to relax. Well, if I’m being honest, that and the sexual pleasure I sometimes give myself, but that’s so goddamn empty.
I lie there for a few minutes, but my brain won’t turn off. I think of all the pending orders I left in my Etsy store, what I need to do tomorrow to stay on schedule, the grocery shopping, and the cleaning that’s backed up. I sigh as I turn over, fluffing my pillow. It’s going to be one of those nights where I need to play a marathon of Candy Crush. I grab my phone and see that I have notifications on Facebook, so I open the app and notice a new friend request.
Clicking on it, I laugh to myself. Who knew that Patrick Tennyson bothered with Facebook? What the hell? Why not accept it? I don’t have enough friends in my life. Most of them sided with my ex-husband in the divorce. Hell, who am I kidding? Most of them were his friends, not mine. I haven’t had an identity of my own for a long time, but I’m doing my best to get it back, to find out exactly who the hell I am.
Immediately a private message pops up.
T: Working late?
Talking to him isn’t against any rules, and it’s nice to talk to an adult once in a while – to have a conversation that’s not about swallowing gum and what kind of lunch you want.
H: Yeah, just finished up and couldn’t go to sleep. I was gonna play Candy Crush, but I had to log on to see what kind of loot people had sent me. It’s my vice, what can I say?
T: Let’s call the police, you like to play Candy Crush to unwind.
I roll my eyes. He probably thinks I’m a stick in the mud and the most boring person he’s ever encountered in his life.
H: Not all of us can probably have the life you do.
T: What exactly do you think my life is like?
That’s a good question. I don’t have any idea because I haven’t thought about anyone except me and Riley for a long time. Based on how good looking he is, I assume he’s not hurting for female companionship.
H: I’m thinking you shut down after I left, you went to the local bar, grabbed dinner, and maybe came home with somebody to keep your bed warm. Isn’t that what all single guys do?
T: Oh sweetheart, I don’t know if your ex just fucked you up that much or if you really aren’t wise to the world.
There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach, and I wonder if I’ve messed up. Did I assume too much? And I try to ignore the way his endearment runs right through me. It’s a sign I’ve been too long without affection.
H: That’s not your life?
T: Far from it. I think maybe you’ve spent too much time thinking the grass is greener on the other side, or that ex-husband of yours is really just that much of an asshole. Why don’t you try hanging out with me and learning who I am before you make generalizations?
Now I’m embarrassed and I’m not sure how I’m going to face him in a few hours. I’ve always hated when people assumed things about me, now look what I’m doing with him? I’ll definitely apologize when I see him tomorrow.
H: That sounds like a good idea. Will you let me start over? Maybe I did have some pre-conceived notions because of what happened to me in the past. I’m really sorry.
He’s quiet for the longest time, and I wonder if he’s going to say yes or no. Maybe he’ll just say he doesn’t want to put any effort into me, and I’ve just fucked this up for my daughter, too. Damn, well aren’t I an amazing mother, my sarcastic voice speaks loudly in my head. Talk about disappointment? I’m feeling it in myself. The one thing I never should have done was assume, and I knew it.
T: Okay, I’m willing to start over if you tell me one thing.
I’m already nervous. I have a feeling what he wants to know and I hate telling people what happened with me and my ex-husband. It’s embarrassing, and haven’t I already been embarrassed enough tonight?
H: What?
I’m positively holding my breath, waiting to see what he’s going to ask. My chest is pumping up and down like I’ve run a marathon, and if this had been months ago I’d have already fallen into a panic attack.
T: What happened with your ex? Why are you so distrusting of men?
How did I know he was going to ask these questions? It’s like I walk around with a sign on my forehead, begging people to ask me to explain the demise of my marriage, the downfall of my life. It’s better than it used to be, I know this, but it pisses me off just the same.
H: He was older than me, about fifteen years older, and he filled a spot in my life – I’m not gonna lie. I grew up without a dad. Maybe that’s what I was looking for, I have no idea, but he ended up leaving for his younger-than-me secretary. It’s still a sore subject. She’s twenty-two and thinks kids are beneath her. Since Riley didn’t serve a purpose for him anymore, he’s let her go. He’s never asked about her, doesn’t call her, and pretty much forgets she exists. That’s why I joined her up with this program. She needs a good male influence in her life. Otherwise she’s going to grow up thinking all men are like her dad, and I don’t want that for her.
There it is, I’ve laid it all out for him, made it so there’s no mistaking why I’ve enrolled Riley into this program. Now he knows what I expect of him, how seriously I want him to take this job he’s been entrusted with, and a part of me wonders if he’ll run. Maybe I won’t see him tomorrow. He’ll probably stand us up. We’re a group package, a tightly wrapped one, and maybe he doesn’t want to open it and find out what’s inside.
Not that I can blame him.
T: You’ve entrusted me with a pretty serious job, but I promise I’ll do what I need to in order for her to understand not everyone is like her asshole of a dad. I don’t hav
e to worry about him coming back, do I?
That’s a scream. He didn’t want us then, he’s not going to want us now or in the future, and neither one of us would run back if he did. Both of us have been pretty damaged by the whole situation, if I’m being perfectly honest.
H: No, even if he did, there’s no place in either one of our lives for him.
I’ve got to cut this conversation off, because it’s getting too deep, he’s asking too many questions, and he’s making me want to ask them of him. He’s making me wish I had other things that I’ll more than likely never have again.
H: It’s late.
I jump when the notification he’s sent me another message comes through.
T: I’ll see you in a few hours, try to get some sleep Hadley.
H: You too, Patrick.
As I see him turn messenger off, I realize talking about the situation Riley and I have been forced to endure wasn’t as bad as it had once been. I was able to at least talk about it without tears falling, and even the anger I’ve been harboring wasn’t there this time.
Maybe I’m finally getting over it the way everyone told me I would. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to move on. I still need the security blanket of the anger, because without it, I’m afraid I’ll make bad decision. Instead, I’ll hang onto it, until it’s ripped from my hands.
9
Trick
Early isn’t something I strive to be for anything. It was never ingrained into me as a teenager, not even be on time for an appointment. It’s a skill I learned once I’d already gotten in trouble and realized no one gave a shit if I were taught right from wrong as a child. The ones who taught me the concept of not making others wait on me was my first parole officer, the public defender who gave me the time of day, and the bosses who were willing to give me a shot, even when they probably shouldn’t have.
So for me to be here today, on a Saturday, fifteen minutes early for my meeting with Riley, is a feat in and of itself. It’s cool this morning, the hot grip of summer is finally loosening, and I can see the trees around the local park are starting to turn. It’s not quite cold enough to see your breath in the morning, but it was enough for me to put my jacket and a beanie on.
Luckily, I was early enough to score a table that’s been set up, not too far from the festivities. I try not to look too deeply into why I’ve grabbed two coffees and an orange juice. Hell, I don’t even know if the girl drinks orange juice, but something about the pair of them make me want to try. And trying isn’t something I’ve done in a very long time. I’m people watching, and it strikes me when I notice I’m looking at the moms and dads with kids. How do they treat their kids?
My eyes hide behind the aviators I prefer to wear, allowing me watch without anyone being suspicious. Before Riley and Hadley, I never would have been interested in any of the people I’m watching now. Instead, I see with greater clarity than ever before.
To my left is a cute little family, the dad’s doing his best to help the mom who appears to be about to lose her shit. Their son has spilled food all down the front of his shirt, and the mom wears another baby on her chest in some sort of strappy carrier. The dad is doing his best to clean the boy up, telling him it’s okay that he’s spilled stuff on him and they’ll still have a good time, while the mom is trying to calm the baby down. It makes me wonder how I’d handle the situation. I hope like hell it’s like this dude.
To my right there’s a couple with one kid, a cute as hell little girl who’s carrying a stuffed cat. She’s gripping her mom’s hand while the dad is jawing about there being so many people around. He’s already looked down at the girl, telling her they were staying for an hour and then they were leaving. The girl looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering, apparently face painting starts in an hour and a half and that’s what she wanted to do. Dick of a dad gives no fucks. This guy is exactly who my dad was, and who I hope I never am.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I grab it, thankful for the distraction.
H: We’re here, I saw your bike, so I know you’re already here. Where are you?
I tell myself I don’t give two shits she noticed my bike and actually knows it’s my bike.
T: Where they’ve set the tables out. I’m the dude in the leather jacket.
How much of a dork can I be? I think she knows what I look like. Now I’m looking for them, watching the groups of people as they make their way over to where the events are being held. I’m about to stand up when I see Riley leading Hadley by the hand. The smile that spreads across my face is genuine. She’s not wearing her tutu today, but Riley looks as cute as she did the other day. She’s wearing those pink converse again, this time with jean overalls and a zip up hoodie over her shirt. That hair, so curly it looks fake, is held back again by a clip bulging with the thickness of her locks. If that thing ever snaps, it’s taking someone’s eye with it. I wave, whistling loudly when they get close enough.
The two ladies come to a stop in front of me.
“Hey,” Hadley smiles, her eyes hidden by her own pair of sunglasses.
“Hey yourself.”
“You beat us here today,” Riley’s little voice observes from where she stands in between us.
“So I did,” I reach over and grab the orange juice. “And I brought you something. I was hoping you like it.”
She takes it from my hands, before looking up at me, her nose scrunched, causing her glasses to sit higher on her face. “Does it have the stringy stuff in it?”
“Stringy stuff?” I’m at a loss and glance up to Hadley for help.
“The pulp,” she reaches down and grabs the bottle, inspecting it. “Looks like you’re safe, Riles. Let’s shake it up. What do you say to Mr. Patrick?”
“Thank you,” she responds automatically.
“And what did we say about calling me Patrick?”
Hadley huffs, obviously trying to instill some manners in her daughter, and maybe keep some distance between us, even though we spoke last night. “Fine, we’ll call you Trick.”
“Thank you,” I hand her the second coffee. “My peace offering to you too, especially since you were up so late last night.”
“How’d you know I like Iced Caramel Macchiato’s?” She looks at me suspiciously.
“You only profess your love of it all over your Facebook page. I mean, I’d have to be dumb not to see it. Every status update you make, you’re drinking one.”
She laughs, her cheeks tinting pink. I like that I can make her blush. I especially like it’s not that hard.
“What can I say? I need my caffeine.”
“Don’t we all?” I turn my attention to Riley. “You done this shindig before, Sprite?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “Dad told me he’d bring me to the last one, but he never did.”
“Drink your orange juice, and then we’ll go check it out.” I don’t wanna influence any way she thinks about her dad. That’s not fair to me, or him, and since I don’t know him yet, I feel like I should at least give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Mom,” she turns to Hadley. “Can you take me down the big slide? I know it’s supposed to be my time with Trick, but you told me when we drove by last time you would.”
“I’m hanging out with you all day, if that’s okay with Trick,” she pushes Riley’s wayward curls back from her face.
Fuck yeah, I get the best of both worlds. “I have no problem with it at all. It’ll be my pleasure to hang out with the two of you today.”
Both of them beam smiles at me, and I wonder what in the fuck I did in another life to get this kind of chance. Three years ago I wouldn’t have wanted it, but something tells me today’s gonna be a good time.
“You wanna play a game?”
“I’m not good at them,” Riley observes the row of carnival games. There’s some of those balloons you shoot water into and milk bottles that you throw a ball at.
“I have pretty good aim.” Not trying to brag, but I do. “Which do you t
hink? Balloon or ball?”
Gradually throughout our walk, she’s let go of her mom’s hand and she’s focused more on me, which is cool. It shows she’s learning to trust me, even if it is only a little bit.
“Baseball,” she chooses, pointing at the milk bottles.
“Pressure’s on,” Hadley laughs as she stands behind her daughter. “Now you’re gonna have to win her something and you’ll probably have to spend eighty bucks to do it.”
“Is that right?” I look over my shoulder at her as I walk up to the person taking the money for the game. “You don’t think I have good aim?”
“Maybe once you did, but even though you look in shape, I’m not sure I believe you have what it takes to throw a pitch hard enough to knock those bottles down.”
Fucking ouch. This woman is busting my balls. “You think so, huh?”
Hadley smirks at me, and it hits me right in my gut. “What do you think Riles?”
I’m interested to see what she thinks. There’s a lot riding on the answer, because I want this kid to be comfortable with me; I want her to see me as someone she can turn to if she ever needed it.
“I think he can do it,” she says, her voice loud and clear.
“Hear that?” I taunt Hadley. “I have her seal of approval. Stand back,” I flex my arms out to my sides. “And let the master work.”
Three throws later, and I’m letting Riley pick out the gaudiest stuffed animal known to man. I don’t even say anything to Hadley, I just grin. It’s enough. And as we leave the game, Riley grabs my hand. When her palm meets mine, she also grabs a hold of something inside of me that almost aches. It’s a protection I’ve never felt before, but this little girl and her mom, they have it.
Hadley’s eyes meet mine, and the look of wonder on her face has to rival the feeling I have. She clears her throat, smiles brightly and doesn’t call any attention to it. “Let’s go find that slide, Riley.”
All I can do is shake my head and laugh.
Trick Page 5