Sawyer
We walked home together, Olivia and I…and my new neighbor.
How in the hell did this happen?
Mere hours ago, it had been a typical Friday. While the rest of my friends and fellow law students were out drinking or partying to blow off the stress of Third Year, I was going to make dinner for my daughter, play and read with her before bath time, then put her to bed and study until my eyes gave out.
And now…
Now, Darlene Montgomery was going to cook dinner for me.
Mental alarms and whistles were going off, telling me this was a bad idea. I didn’t bring women home anymore, and yet I’d caved so easily. I chalked it up to my fatigue and her energy. Darlene must be a flexible dancer, I thought, because she slipped past all of my usual barricades and defenses, bending and contorting herself through a field of red laser beams like a ninja in a spy movie.
One dinner. That’s it.
Twilight had fallen, coppery and warm, as we walked. Darlene talked nonstop about the differences between New York and San Francisco. I thought it would drive me crazy but I liked listening to her. She had a pretty voice, and my conversations these days consisted mostly of cajoling my kid to eat her peas, or listening to law students bitch about finals.
My eyes kept stealing glances at her.
In the grocery store, my photographic memory had taken an entire reel of just her face. She was a collage of striking features—a wide mouth, large eyes, full lips, high cheekbones, dark eyebrows—not one aspect insignificant.
Here, under the yellow of the streetlights, her eyes were deeper blue and full of light. Over her lithe frame, she wore a bulky sweater, but it didn’t conceal what she was. She looked like a dancer—slender but with lean muscle, and she walked with an easy grace, despite the heavy black combat boots on her feet.
“So what’s with the boots?” I asked. It was the most harmless part of what she was wearing.
“Protection.”
“From what?”
“Not from. For. For my feet,” she said. “I’m a dancer—or will be again soon, and my feet are a precious commodity.”
“What kind of dance do you do? Ballet?”
“When I was little,” she said. “But I’m into modern dances and capoeira. Have you heard of capoeira?”
“An Afro-Brazilian martial art that combines elements of dance, acrobatics, and music, developed in Brazil at the beginning of the 16th century.”
Darlene stopped. “Well, look at you, Encyclopedia Brown. Are you a fan?”
“I read something about it once.”
“Once? Do you always remember something you read once so precisely?”
“Yes.”
I felt her gaze on me and glanced over to see an expectant look on her face—the kind women wear when the guy has said or done something that obviously requires further explanation.
“I have an eidetic memory,” I said.
“A what?”
“Eidetic—photographic memory.”
“Get out!” Darlene swatted my arm. “For real?”
I nodded.
“So you can remember long strings of numbers, or… what you were wearing on January 24th, 2005.”
I shrugged. “It’s pretty strong.”
“Well…how strong is it?” Darlene demanded. “On a scale of one to you-should-be-on-The Ellen DeGeneres Show?”
“Not sure what Ellen’s requirements are. Eight?”
Darlene was staring at me with wide eyes. “Wow. You’ve got a mega-mind. That must help with law school, yeah?”
“Yeah, it does,” I said. “I probably wouldn’t be graduating on time otherwise.”
“Very cool,” Darlene said.
I could feel her gearing up to quiz me like Andrew from my study group and cut her off at the pass.
“Anyway, you’re getting back into dancing?” I asked. “Just in time to be my upstairs neighbor? Lucky me.”
She grinned but it wilted quickly. “Not sure yet.” Her fingers toyed with a tiny scrap of paper from her sweater pocket. “I’ve nearly thrown this away a hundred times since this afternoon.”
“Is that your fortune?”
“It does look like that, doesn’t it?” she said. “Who knows? Maybe it is. It’s a phone number for a dance troupe, but I’m not sure if I’m going to call it.”
“Why not?”
She shoved the paper back into her pocket. “I’ve only been here a few days. I have a great place, a job. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet. I sort of came here to start over again.”
“Why? Are you on the run from the law?”
It was a joke, but Darlene’s eyes flared and she looked away.
“No, nothing like that,” she said quickly. Her smile looked forced. “I kind of like how no one knows me here. It’s like the proverbial blank slate and I can write whatever I want on it.”
I nodded, at a loss. The conversation had taken a turn for the personal and that was forbidden territory. I didn’t have the time to dive deep into anyone; I was barely keeping my head above water as it was. I was heavy and anchored down, dragging myself through the days until one year was up and Olivia was safely all mine. The exhaustion was like a suit of armor, but Darlene…She seemed weightless—as if she wore combat boots to keep her from floating away. She smiled constantly, laughed easily, and she swept into my life at a grocery store like it were nothing.
She’s the exact opposite of me in every way.
A short silence fell, that lasted all of three seconds.
“Anyway, tonight, I’m your chef,” Darlene said.
“You don’t have to…”
She stopped and planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve seen Law and Order. Are we going to, what’s the word? Where you argue over the same thing a second time?”
“Relitigate.”
“Yes, that. Are we going to relitigate dinner tonight?”
“I’m just not used to—”
“Overruled, Sawyer the Lawyer,” she said. “I’m going to make dinner and you’re going to let me or I’m going to tell Elena on you.”
“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
Darlene grinned. “That’s just another way of saying persistent.”
I rolled my eyes and bent to check on Olivia. She was still happily munching on the little biscuit and babbling. She grinned over a mouthful of mush at me. I grinned back.
Holy hell, I love that face.
I straightened to see Darlene watching me, her eyes soft, and I realized I was still smiling like a moron. I reverted back to neutral, took the stroller handle and started pushing.
“You’re so sweet with her,” Darlene said. “How long has it been just the two of you?”
“Ten months,” I said. My jaw stiffened. I never talked about Molly if I could help it. I had an irrational fear that even saying her name would call her back from wherever she was, to try to take Olivia away from me.
My shoulders hunched in anticipation of the next questions; more personal questions that I hated. But Darlene must’ve gotten the memo since she didn’t say anything else about it.
At the Victorian, I carried the stroller with Olivia in it up the three steps while Darlene unlocked the front door. In the foyer, she glanced at the flight of stairs leading up with a frown.
“Do you carry the baby and the stroller up a whole flight of stairs?” she asked.
“No, I take Olivia up, then come back for it.” I shot her a dry look. “Hence, the-not-buying-a crap-ton-of-stuff to carry.”
“Such a man.” Darlene sighed. “I’ll help. Stroller or baby?”
I hesitated. The stroller was heavier and bulkier but the alternative was Darlene carried Olivia. I scrubbed my chin.
Darlene gave me a tilted smile. “I won’t break her, I promise. Or I can take the stroller,” she added quickly. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Oh, now you’re concerned about what I’m comfortable with?” I asked with laugh. “That’s a first.”
She grinned and rolled her eyes. “Such a crank. Pick.”
“The stroller is heavy,” I said slowly. “If you don’t mind taking her?”
“Mind? Not in a million years.”
She knelt in front of Olivia and moved the tray aside, undid the mini-seatbelt.
“Hey, sweet pea. Can I hold you?” Olivia’s little face split open with a smile as Darlene lifted her up and cradled her easily on her hip. “Is that a yummy cracker? I bet it is. Can I have some?”
She pretended to bite at the biscuit and Olivia squealed with laughter.
The alarm bells were screaming now as I folded up the stroller and carried it up the stairs, Darlene following after. At my door, I fumbled for my key, acutely conscious of Darlene’s presence behind me, like a low heat against my back. A sliver of something electric slipped down my spine. I hadn’t brought a woman back here since I moved in.
Darlene isn’t a woman by your usual definition, she’s a neighbor. And you didn’t bring her back; she somehow finagled her way in.
My body didn’t give a damn how she got there, only that she was.
I opened the door and set the stroller against the wall just inside, then shut the door behind us. Us. Three of us.
Don’t get soft now. One dinner, strictly neighborly.
“She’s precious.” Darlene handed Olivia back to me, and then slipped out of her backpack to set it on the kitchen counter. “And this is a nice place. Much bigger than mine. Two bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never seen a baby-proofed bachelor pad.” Darlene tilted her chin at the coffee table that had a protective slab of rubber on each corner. “Super cute.”
I started to tell her my place was the furthest from a bachelor pad as you could get, but my words died.
Darlene had taken off her ratty old sweater and tied it around her slender waist, then rummaged in my cupboards. She was wearing a black dancer’s top with straps that crisscrossed her back. I became mesmerized by her lean muscles that moved under her pale skin, the elegant line of her neck, and the sleek cut of her arms as she reached up on a high shelf for a pan.
I suddenly had the urge to see her dance. To see her move the way the lines of her body hinted she could.
And just like that, ten months of celibacy came crashing into me. The blood rushed to my groin, and going soft was suddenly the least of my worries. I coughed to conceal a sudden groan that nearly erupted out of me.
“You okay?” Darlene asked over her shoulder.
“Sure. Fine.”
This is a bad idea.
I started to put Olivia in her playpen but she fussed and squirmed out of my arms once she saw where she was headed. I set her on the floor instead, and watched her toddle straight to the kitchen, to Darlene.
“What are you doing down there?” Darlene cooed. “You want to come up here and help?” She scooped Olivia up and set her on her hip again, holding her one-armed. “Now, tell me, where does your daddy keep the baking pans?”
I watched a beautiful woman hold my daughter in my kitchen, talking easily to her, making her laugh. An ache—a thousand times more potent than any sexual frustration—rose up from a deep place in my heart. It felt like hundreds of emotions I’d been keeping locked down were suddenly erupting out all at once: what I wanted for me, for Olivia, what she had lost and what I was working for to keep her. They were all spilling out of me like a bag of marbles, and now I had to scramble to put them all back before I fell on my ass.
“This wasn’t a good idea,” I said.
Darlene was making a silly face at Olivia. “Hmmm?”
“I can’t do this.”
“Do what? Eat dinner?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “I can’t eat dinner. With you. And I can’t have you over here all the time, helping me out or playing with Livvie. I can’t.”
Darlene’s expression folded and I hated myself for stealing the light out of her eyes.
“Oh.”
She carefully set Olivia down and Olivia immediately squawked to be picked up again.
“Shit,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “This is exactly why I didn’t want any help. Because one thing leads to the next and before you know it…”
“Before you know it you’re eating a decent meal?” Darlene said with a weak smile.
“It’s not that.” I ground my teeth in frustration.
Darlene waved her hands. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. It’s your place. Your privacy. I do this a lot. I get involved. I moved here to work on me.” She shouldered her backpack and took Olivia by the hand to walk her to me. “I have a lot of work left to do.”
“Darlene…”
She bent down to Olivia. “Bye-bye, sweet pea.” She raised her head and flashed me the tattered remains of her brilliant smile. “Have a nice night.”
The sound of the door shutting made me flinch. The room suddenly seemed a little dimmer. Quieter.
Olivia was tugging on my jeans. “Up,” she said “Up, Daddy.”
I picked her up and held her. She smiled at me and I bottled up my spilled emotions but for one. My love for her. She was the only thing that mattered.
“Come on,” I told her. “Let’s have some dinner.”
Darlene had the tuna in her bag, which she’d taken with her in her hurry to escape. I gave Olivia avocado, cubes of turkey, a hard-boiled egg, and another one of those biscuits Darlene had introduced me to. After, I bathed Olivia, and read Freight Train to her about ten times until she was yawning instead of saying, “Again!”
After I put her to bed in her small bedroom, I set up my study materials at the desk in the living room. The clock on the wall said it was eight-fifteen. I went to the fridge to find a frozen dinner. My stomach growled for damn tuna casserole.
Now that Livvie was in bed, guilt churned my empty stomach.
You didn’t have to kick her out.
I had a thousand good reasons for keeping my private business private, and yet being an ass to Darlene was like saying ‘fuck off’ to someone after they said they hoped you have a nice day.
I leaned my head against the freezer. Now I’d have to apologize.
I hated apologizing.
A soft knock came at the door. I whispered a prayer to any god that would listen it wasn’t Elena coming to tell me she had a conflict sometime next week and couldn’t babysit.
I opened the door to Darlene. She had a plate of food in one hand covered in aluminum foil. Steam wafted up in little tendrils, carrying with it the scents of warm noodles, mushrooms and tuna.
Dammit, she’s beautiful.
The images stored in my perfect memory were dull copies compared to the real thing. I crossed my arms over my chest as if I could put a barricade between us.
“Hi, again,” Darlene said. “I am not here to make you feel bad, or barge in again, I promise.” She thrust the plate of food toward me. “This is a peace offering and a parting gift. A promise that I won’t get up in your business.”
I took the plate. “This is a lot of casserole.”
“You insisted on paying for it back at the store, and I know you’d never cook it yourself.” Her radiant smile was back. “You can eat what you want now and have leftovers tomorrow.”
I stared down at the food in her hand. A simple apology and a thank you was all it would take, and then I could close the door and get back to my life. My stressed out, anxiety-ridden life.
Darlene tilted her head. “Okay, so…I’m going to go. Good ni—”
“Olivia’s mom abandoned her ten months ago,” I heard myself say. “My buddies and I were having a party and she showed up and just…left her. She left Olivia without a mom.”
“Oh no,” Darlene said softly. She wilted against the doorjamb. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, so, it is what it is, but…that’s why I don’t bring anyone here. I don’t have time for a relationship with anyone, and I don’t bring anyone over casually. Not even friends, really. I hate the idea of Livvie having strange women in her house. It’s hard enough for her without a mom. I don't want to confuse her.”
“I get it,” Darlene said.
“It’s probably stupid or overprotective but… She’s starting to call Elena ‘mama.’ She hears her kids call her that and I…I don’t know what to do.”
Darlene’s smile was soft and she reached her hand to pat my hand awkwardly for a moment, then pulled it away.
“I think you’re great with her. And she’s obviously very happy with you.”
“Yeah, well...” I ran a hand through my hair. “So listen, this is dumb. Olivia’s sleeping. Come in and help me eat this.”
Darlene grinned and shook her head before I finished my sentence. “Nope. I have my rules too. I’m working on me, remember? Trying to, anyway.”
Her cell phone chimed a text and she pulled it out of her sweater pocket. Her face went pale.
“Shit. I have to go,” she said. “Um, I have a meeting. It’s a…a work meeting in, oh hell, thirty minutes. I totally forgot.”
I frowned. “A work meeting at nine on a Friday night?”
“Yeah, bummer, right?” Darlene laughed loosely. “So I can’t stay to eat anyway. I’d be neglecting my obligations. I’m trying to be responsible to myself. No distractions.”
“Right,” I said, my chest feeling heavy. “No distractions. Well, thanks again for the casserole.”
“No problem,” Darlene said. She chucked me on the arm. “See? Not so bad, right? We don’t have to be BFF’s but we don’t need to be strangers, either. Neighbors.”
“Yeah, I guess that could work.”
“Good,” Darlene said, her smile widening, as she walked backward down the hall. “Okay. Bye.” She flashed me a little wave, spun on her heels and raced downstairs.
“Bye.”
I shut the door, and leaned against it for a few seconds, more tired than before. The entire night I’d been swept up in Darlene’s energy. I’d felt more awake than I had in a long time, and now I was sagging again.
Friend or stranger.
Aside from Jackson, I didn’t have a ton of friends anymore, and didn’t have time for them anyway. I didn’t have time for anything. ‘Neighbor’ fit somewhere in between ‘friend’ and ‘stranger.' Darlene could be there.
I couldn’t put her anywhere else.