Did you really think it would be easy? some part of my mind whispers. Did you really think you could quit her when she dwells in a deeper place in you than any other woman ever has? A deeper place than any other woman has ever even approached?
My hand pauses rubbing at my sweater, and my lungs fight for a deep breath.
Hers are audibly doing the same thing.
Neither of us seems to know what else to say.
Even after another minute or two, we haven’t figured it out.
So we just sit here in this quietude and wait. Wait for conversation to start itself. Or for us to eventually fall asleep as we have done so many times before.
But honestly? I can’t think of anything, aside from being with her in person, that I would rather be doing.
—
“Hey, man,” startles me so badly that jumping causes me to yank my hand off my computer mouse and slam it against the piece of desk above it.
“Ow, f—”
Shaking out my stinging hand, I look over at Blaze, who is standing in the doorway of my office. He looks as surprised as I feel—he didn’t expect to catch me so off-guard.
Why would he have expected that? He has no idea how full my head is of things I shouldn’t want with a girl I can’t have. He probably assumed I was contemplating work stuff, what with my one hand being on my mouse and the other on my keyboard.
I had been contemplating work stuff before I was drawn into thought by a random word in an e-mail.
Inspecting my knuckles makes me sigh. I’m bleeding a little bit. Not my worst wound ever, but still.
“You all right?” he checks.
“I’m fine,” I half-lie. “Sorry. Was just…” licking my lips, I shake my hand out some more, “…thinking.”
“Oh, it’s all good. Sorry I startled you. I’m on my way to Best Buy for those cables, so I figured I’d stop here and ask if you want me to take that router off your hands. If you’ve got it boxed up already, I can take it to UPS while I’m out.” He chuckles and leans forward to stage-whisper, “No need to try to trust Derek with it, right?”
That gets a slight chuckle out of me. Derek couldn’t even be trusted to start the return process for the dead router, which is why I had to do it myself. Blaze has a point.
I roll my chair over to where the box is waiting to be shipped back to the manufacturer. “Yeah, it’s right here. Thanks.”
“No problem, no problem.” He comes over and takes the box from me. Then he pauses, looks at me, and rubs at his short red beard. “You sure you’re good? You haven’t seemed like yourself lately.”
The words land in a weird way.
I can’t help thinking he doesn’t really know me, so how can he comment on my behavior? And that makes me think of Cliff’s true friendship, which hurts in more than one way. But at the same time, I’m grateful for Blaze’s concern and for how he has never stopped attempting to be a friend in his own right—no matter how much I’ve kept to myself, he still cares that I’m here.
So I’m not sure how to answer now. He’s a nice guy, and it doesn’t seem fair to lie to him again, but where would I even begin with telling the truth?
Well, he can’t stand here all day and wait for me to figure it out.
I go with the first thing to come into my head. “I’m going through something in my personal life, and honestly, I struggle every day to know how to deal with it.”
“Ah.” He nods and lightly taps a palm against one end of the router box. Then he clears his throat. “Wellll…uh….”
The way the sentence trails off punches me with sudden self-consciousness.
And worry.
Old, old worry that taints how nice Blaze seems and whispers that there’s nothing special enough about me for anyone to truly want to bother with me and my problems. Self-consciousness that reminds me of how ghosts of my childhood still haunt certain corners in my head and make me annoyingly weak and hinder my ability to form solid friendships—
“It probably seems like I don’t know you well enough to offer this, but anytime you need me to lend an ear, you got it. Just ‘cause we haven’t hung out much outside of work doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know if something’s got you down.”
I only notice I had dropped my head into one hand when I lift it to look at Blaze.
He gives me a chill, lopsided smile.
“We can talk whenever you might want to,” he reiterates. “It’s cool if you don’t, but if you do….”
All I can seem to do is watch him turn and head for the door.
Chuckling, he amends, “Except for right this minute. Best Buy and all that.” Then he lifts a hand in a goodbye wave and disappears.
Those ugly emotions disappear, too, as quickly as they showed up.
The embarrassment I feel now is much milder; I can’t believe how easily doubt stole into me.
I mean, I can.
But I also know so well, better than I know almost anything else, that Cliff’s friendship changed me. He changed what I spent years thinking about myself and what I deserve and what I’m capable of. He taught me a lot about believing in my worth. He taught me that it’s one thing to feel hurt by someone not caring about me and it’s something else entirely to feel like their attitude is some sort of proof that I don’t deserve to be cared about in the first place.
It started with our parents. They sucked so bad, but it was just because of who they were, not because we had failed to earn better treatment.
So I know now that even if Blaze really hadn’t been genuine in checking on me, being disappointed about it would’ve been fine. What wasn’t so fine was me blaming myself for falling short instead of accepting that he’s just a work friend, not a great friend.
And he hadn’t even given me a reason to be disappointed. He was genuine, and…
…and yeah, he’s not Cliff and he never will be, but I still feel immense gratitude and relief for his kindness.
‘Anytime you need me to lend an ear, you got it.’
I can’t say I’m not tempted.
For God’s sake, I’ve got scraped knuckles right now because I saw the word ‘paper’ in a work e-mail and it reminded me of a goofy but sweet dream I had two nights ago, in which Noelle and I exchanged love notes under the table during another dinner with her family.
Five days have now passed since the real-life dinner we went on—which means almost fourteen have passed since we kissed.
Almost two weeks.
I have felt every single one of those days.
Sometimes I swear I’ve felt the very minutes that made them up.
Same as before, I’m doing a bit better and also a bit worse. Better because I’ve been working on forcing Noelle out of my head when she wanders in. Worse because that’s a harsh tactic, and it saddens me every time I use it.
Refusing to let myself think about her feels wrong; I learn that a little more each time. But I haven’t known what else I can do to try to get around her.
If I don’t block her out, even seemingly harmless thoughts get dangerous fast. Remembering how much she loved her tulips on Valentine’s Day makes me want like hell to do more things that delight her. Recalling the night she and I went to Outback Steakhouse makes me feel warm with both liking and longing because she shivered when I spontaneously brushed at her messy hair and I want moments like that back.
And I’m not supposed to.
I’m not supposed to be struggling this much.
I was supposed to be like, ‘Okay, we somehow developed a little crush on each other, but then we realized how stupid that was, so we’re past it. No big deal.’
No, that has not happened.
Because I didn’t develop some little….
Stop.
I lift a hand and rub hard at my eyes. Hard enough that tiny bursts of white crackle through the darkness behind my eyelids.
Then I imagine dropping a heavy brick wall between me and Noelle.
After I heave a sigh, I drop my hand and blink away the
leftover crackles.
I gotta get back to work.
—
Theo’s birthday is on a Thursday, so her party got planned for the next evening. But I can’t wait until Friday to see her—it has to be on her birthday. I refuse to miss her actual birthday.
I’m so damn excited about it, especially because something she wanted as a gift was for me to be the one to pick her up from preschool on the big day.
Which is today.
In fact, I’m so excited that eagerness is what has me hurrying through the church parking lot to enter the preschool, not how chilly it is outside.
It’s no secret that I’ve been having serious Noelle withdrawals, but my God, have I also been missing this child.
I’ve had lots of FaceTime calls with her since the dinner we all went to, but real-life visits have been scarce. I went by this past weekend to drop off a bag of her favorite frozen chicken nuggets because I snagged the last one during a sale at the store, and then I stopped by again two days ago so I could ask about her birthday gift wishes in person. It wasn’t nearly enough time spent with her.
So when Noelle texted early this morning to ask if I could manage the last-minute preschool thing, I instantly told her I could. Didn’t even check with my boss that leaving early would be okay—didn’t care what he’d say. I knew I would do whatever I had to in order to bring happiness to the best kid in the world on her birthday.
Or on any other day, of course. But today for sure.
As it happened, I didn’t have any trouble leaving around two, so leave then I did; I was out of my office before thirty seconds had passed. Very important plans were waiting for me.
‘I’m your little girl.’
Theo’s sweet words from weeks ago echo through me like they’ve done many times since she spoke them. As with every other time, my heart feels like it’s in danger of bursting—with love, with sadness.
I know it turned out that she didn’t mean what it sounded like she meant, but it doesn’t take away from how hard the sentiment hit me. I loved that she was so cutely reiterating her being one of my girls, even though it had Cliff twisting through my thoughts in painful ways.
Even after all this time, the whole thing still brings on a heavy avalanche of emotions.
No time to dwell on it right now, though. Right now, I have to ring this special video doorbell and gain access to the childcare area of the church.
Once it has been determined that Beckett Slater is allowed to leave the premises with Theodora Cavill, I’m let in. Then I head for Ms. Louisa’s room.
When I peek around the frame of the door to see if I can surprise Theo with my arrival, I hear a shrieky, “Uncle Beck!” before I’ve even spotted her.
But there’s no missing the colorful blur rushing at me.
“Hi!” I exclaim with a laugh, holding out my arms. “Jump!”
She leaps up and I catch her, just like I did outside the dance studio that day. She’s a wiggle-worm of pigtails and laughter and hugs, and God, my heart is even more putty-like in her small hands than it usually is.
I’ve missed her so much it almost turns me watery-eyed.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I say again as I hug her to me. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you!” She snuggles my neck. “I’m so happy to see you. I love you.”
Nope, I am watery-eyed.
I can hear Ms. Louisa talking to us, I think, but it’s hard to concentrate on anything other than how it feels to be holding this most precious angel right now.
On her fifth birthday, which her dad isn’t here to see.
After these difficult weeks, which she doesn’t know anything about.
“I love you so much,” I tell her, my voice surprisingly calm, “and I’m so happy to see you too.”
She snuggles me even more, hugging me as tightly as her skinny arms can.
And though a lot of this is bittersweet, so much more of it is just sweet.
I can’t help feeling more happiness than anything else.
I finally shift her around enough that I can see her teacher, who is watching us with warm eyes and a matching half-smile.
“Good afternoon!” I greet her. “As you know, I’m here to pick up The-o-dor-a.”
“Yes, sir,” she says with a chuckle. She heads for the cubby holes against the nearest wall. “If you’ll sign her out on that clipboard hanging by you, I’ll grab her things so you don’t have to put her down.”
That gets a grin out of me. “Oh, thank you! How thoughtful of you!”
Theo sits up and nods. “Mmhmm! So, so thoughtful!”
My grin widens. Maybe she knows what that word means and maybe she’s just copying me, but either way, I’m tickled.
I get her signed out and accept her backpack from Ms. Louisa, who pats at Theo’s hair.
“Happy birthday, dear,” she says. “I hope you have a wonderful time with your Uncle Beck.”
Theo hunches her shoulders and squeaks happily. When she doesn’t thank Ms. Louisa, I whisper for her to, and then she does it. The woman chuckles again, gives me a goodbye nod, and turns back to the other kids in the room.
With that, our fun afternoon begins.
And it begins with me giving Theo a piggyback ride all the way to my car. She loves it as much as she did the other day in her yard.
I get her secured in her car seat and congratulate her on the dollar bill she has collected beneath her sparkly silver birthday pin. Then I get settled behind the wheel and pull out my phone to text Noelle. I decide to send a selfie of happy me and mid-cheer Theo before I type out that the kiddo and I are off to feed the ducks at the park.
She sends back three heart-eye emojis and enthusiastically wishes us lots of fun, which makes me even happier.
I can practically see the smile on her face.
Wish I could really see it.
But at least I’ve got a different smiling angel with me.
“Okay, birthday girl,” I say. “Tell me about your day!”
I hear about the pancakes Noelle made her, the music they listened to on the way to preschool, and what went on while she was there, which was pretty much business as usual. She does say that some of the other kids in her class are coming to her party tomorrow, and it gets us talking about the festivities. She tries to guess what her cake will look like—I don’t tell her she nails it when she mentions a ballerina. I also don’t fall for it when she tries, very poorly, to trick me into telling her what I bought for her. But I do laugh a lot.
She soon forgets about it because our park adventure distracts her.
It takes me a lengthy second to not be distracted by the place for a different reason.
By the time we’re out of my car, I have managed to bat away thoughts of our picnic day.
We get the proper duck food out of my trunk; I made sure to pick some up yesterday after work since plain bread isn’t supposed to be a good choice. The birds already seem to know why we’re here, so we’re popular in no time.
She tosses some corn in the direction of one duck and says, “Here you go, Mr. White.”
I don’t know why she named that one as such when it’s not the only white duck in the crowd, but I sure don’t question her.
“And here you go, Mr. Milk,” she tells another. “Annnnd…Ms. Snow….”
Aha! It all makes sense.
Chuckling, I pass around some of the dry oats. “What’s this fella’s name?”
Theo looks at where I’m motioning to the brown and white duck poking around. “That is Swimmer. He’s a good swimmer.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, I saw him when we came over with this food!”
“Well, I wish I’d seen him swimming!”
She nods with slightly lifted eyebrows, like she agrees that I missed something cool. It cracks me up.
“You can name one!” she invites me. After looking around for a second, she points out a tan duck waddling this way. “He doesn’t have a name yet!”
>
“Aw, well—you want me to pick his name? Not you?”
Now her nod is excited.
I grin and then check out the duck. “Hmm. I think his name should be…Tucker.”
Her peals of laughter warm the chilly air and make her eyes squint up.
“Tucker!” she repeats. “Tucker the duck!”
“Yeah! What do you think?”
“It’s a really good name!”
We spend another ten or fifteen minutes doing this, walking a bit, tending to the geese that also wander up. We make sure to take some pictures and videos along the way. Then, according to her descriptions, we run out of ‘animal food’ and now need to go get some ‘people food’ for ourselves.
It isn’t a comfortable temperature out here anyway, and since she needs to be home around four-thirty so she can get ready for dance class, I think we’re right on schedule. We have just enough time to enjoy the McDonald’s she wants.
To her delight, the cashier sweetly gives her a dollar bill after we’ve ordered. We thank her with wide eyes and excited tones, and then I pin the money to Theo’s shirt while we wait for our food to be ready.
“Two dollars!” she squeaks. “What can I buy?”
I tsk pensively and tug lightly at the pin to make sure it’s secure. “Well, you have lots of choices when it comes to buying something small, but you wanna know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you should wait until the end of the day and see how much money you have then. Maybe you’ll still have two bucks, or maybe you’ll have even more to spend!”
She gasps and jumps up and down. “I will! I’ll get so, so much dollars!”
Even as I laugh, I agree, “Yeah, maybe! But don’t get your hopes up too high, just in case it doesn’t happen.”
“Okay. I’ll only get them up this high.” She bends over and puts one palm even with the ground, up about three inches.
“Oh my God, you are the cutest kid in the world,” I tell her.
She straightens back up and grins as big as her face allows. Then she throws a hug around my legs. I rub at her back, marveling at how someone so small can take up so much space in my life.
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