At eight-thirty, I start to get nervous. Nearing nine o’clock, my anxiety skyrockets. Pulling out my phone, I text Jonathan. Did you get her there okay?
No response.
When nine-thirty comes, I can’t take it anymore. I dial the number for the school, checking with the receptionist to make sure she made it, feeling like a fool when she confirms Maddie is in class and arrived on time this morning. I hang up, grumbling to myself when a message pops up on the screen. Jonathan. Forgot to charge my phone. She made it safe and sound. No limbs lost.
I stare at it, considering how to respond, but everything I truly want to say feels ridiculously sappy this morning. So she still has all her fingers and toes?
Ten of each, I’m assuming, but I didn’t have a chance to count. Would’ve made us late.
I laugh at that as I type out a response. Learn to multi-task, man.
“What’s so funny?”
Hitting send, I glance up and see Bethany in the doorway. “Nothing, just… you know.”
I shake my phone at her as if that’ll explain it.
“Boyfriend?” she guesses, raising her eyebrows. “Is it the guy that was here?”
My expression falls. “What guy?”
“You know, the one that came to see you.”
Oh god. “How do you know about that?”
“Because I was here,” she says. “Don’t think I didn’t see him lurking around.”
“You saw him?”
“Of course.” She laughs. “You seriously think I wouldn’t spot that hottie? Hello, do you even know me?”
“Well, I mean, it’s not what you think,” I say. “He’s not… we’re not… you know… so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Really?”
“Of course!” She laughs. “I know you’re, like, old or whatever, but I like to think we’re friends. I’m not going to tell everyone your business.”
Ignoring the fact that she just called me old, because screw that, I feel an intense sense of relief. She’s taking this so much cooler than I expected. “Thank you. And I know you’ve met him, I guess, but if you want to meet him again, I can probably make that happen.”
“Oh, no thanks.” She waves me off. “He’s a hottie, but he’s not my type. I’m not really into that whole uptight authoritarian kink, if you know what I mean.”
“What?”
“That guy of yours. What’s his name? Andrew?”
“Oh, you’re talking about Drew!”
“Who else would I be—oh my god, is there somebody else?” She lets out a shriek. “No way, you have two boyfriends?”
“Of course not.” I scoff as my phone goes off. I glance at it, seeing a message from Jonathan. “I don’t have a boyfriend at all.”
You’re the queen. I’m just a commoner.
Those words nearly take my breath away. It’s been a long time since he’s said them to me, so long that my heart skips a beat at the memories.
“Your face disagrees,” Bethany says, motioning to me as I shove my phone in my pocket. “You’re all blushy.”
I roll my eyes. “Am not.”
“Whatever you say.” She turns to leave. “You look how I probably looked when I met Johnny Cunning.”
“I heard a certain someone walked her to school this morning.”
I stare at my father sitting on his front porch, casually rocking in his chair, wasting time before he heads off to lead a meeting later. It’s nearing sunset. I ended up working over to make up for being late this morning.
“Yeah, I needed to get to work, and well, he was there.”
“Lucky you,” he says, “that he just happened to be there.”
“Tell me about it,” I mumble, leaving it at that. “Anyway, we should go before it gets dark.”
“Because he’s coming over to play?” he asks. “Heard about that, too.”
I cut my eyes at him but don’t respond to that, opening the front door to yell inside, “Maddie, sweetheart, time to go!”
Footsteps run through the house.
“I’m not judging you,” my father says. “I just want to make sure you’re being careful.”
Careful. Squeezing his shoulder, I joke, “Don’t worry, Mom had the ‘safe sex is great sex’ talk with me as soon as I hit puberty. Took me to the clinic, put me on the pill and everything.”
He cringes. “A lot of good that did. Should’ve taught you about abstinence.”
“Spoken like a true conservative,” I say as Maddie bursts outside with her backpack. “Besides, you know, say what you will, but it gave us that one.”
“And she's plenty enough for all of us,” he says, grinning at her when she throws herself at him to hug his neck. “Love you, kiddo. Have fun playing.”
“Love you, Grandpa! Maybe you can play too next time!”
“Maybe,” he agrees as she runs off the porch, skirting past me on her way to the car. My father waits until she’s out of earshot before he says, “Be careful, and I don’t mean, you know…”
“No glove, no love?”
Another cringe.
“That, too, but I think you already know that,” he grumbles. “I hope you learned your lesson about going down that road with that boy. No good can come from it.”
“She came from it,” I point out.
He looks at me, eyes narrowing.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m being careful.”
“You better be practicing abstinence.”
“I’m twenty-seven, not seventeen.”
“Doesn’t matter. There’s no ring on your finger.”
“I’m not really a fan of jewelry.”
“It’s not about the jewelry.”
“Not really a fan of archaic vows, either.”
He scrubs his hands down his face. “Damn liberal hippies.”
I laugh at that. He used to say that to my mother whenever she challenged him—which was all the time. “Bye, Dad.”
“I’m serious, Kennedy,” he calls out as I head for the car.
“I know you are,” I tell him. “Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry? Yeah, right.”
I get in the car, wanting that conversation to be over before I slip up and give away just how deep I am. Sweat coats my back, my hands shaky as I grip the steering wheel and glance in the rearview mirror at Maddie, oblivious to it all as she plays with her Breezeo doll.
“Is he at home, Mommy?” she asks, glancing at me.
“Who?”
“Jonathan,” she says, “so we can play.”
“Oh, I’m not sure. I guess we’ll see, huh?”
She smiles, nodding.
He’s not there, though. He's not waiting when we get to the apartment. Disappointment radiates from her, her smile falling.
“He’ll be here,” I say, hoping I’m not lying to her.
“I know,” she says.
She does her homework, practicing her spelling, and we eat dinner.
No Jonathan.
She takes a bath, putting on her pajamas, while I call him.
Voicemail.
Another hour or so passes before I finally change out of my work uniform. I check on Maddie in the living room, finding her fast asleep, the first Breezeo movie soundlessly playing on the TV, the lights all off. I glare at the screen, at his face staring back at me, making my insides twist up in knots.
“Asshole,” I grumble, reaching for the remote to turn it off, but a soft knock from the door stops me. I give Maddie a quick look—still asleep—before I head for the door, glancing out the peephole.
The face that’s currently on the TV greets me.
Well, there are some differences, of course. The guy standing in front of my apartment looks like he’s been through hell. He hasn’t shaved in a while, and his skin is still peppered with faint scratches and bruises.
Sighing, I tug the door open. He starts to greet me, but I turn away, walking away, heading for the kitchen to clean.