I wait until four P.M. to call Jules. I had to force myself not to call her yesterday in order to concentrate on our game in Boston. And normally I never have a hard time locking the world out and focusing on my job in the net when it’s game day. In fact, I’m usually so focused on game day, I barely speak to anyone.
But yesterday morning as I was sitting on the team plane for our flight to Boston, I actually pulled my phone out. I had come perilously close to dialing her, when Hawke threw himself down in the seat next to me and without even so much as a “Good morning” proceeded to fill me in on the saga of him and Vale. This did not include exact details but he told me grimly that Vale finally revealed why she broke up with him seven years ago, and that they had worked it out. He then told me with a stupid grin on his face that makeup sex was awesome, and then, with amused chuckles, about how one of his hookups showed up at his house with Vale there.
I winced because that did not sound funny.
He jabbered at me until the plane door closed and I was forced to put my phone into airplane mode, the call to Jules averted.
Fuck, I wanted to hear her voice and see if that connection we’d made the previous night was still there, but I also didn’t want to come on too strong with her. When she told me at Sweetbrier that it was not a good time in her life, I took that as a clear indication I had to proceed slowly with her. She had so much on her plate and so many worries on her mind and I did not want to add on to that. It’s why I kept things light and friendly the night I hung out with her at the convenience store.
So I forced myself to give her some space and I finally got my head in the game on Saturday. It’s a good thing too because we’re still in preseason, and while I think I’m the favorite for the starting goalie spot, I’m not locked in either. I got the call for the start Saturday night and I played fucking fantastic, managing to go all three periods without thinking about Jules once. And that is how it should be. When I’m in a game, I should be focused on that.
But I’m not in a game today so I can put my attention elsewhere.
It’s Sunday and I’m not going to let another day pass without at least letting her know I’m still interested. I busied myself today with working out, getting my house cleaned, and grocery shopping for the upcoming week. I did my laundry and watched some golf on TV. Then I got up, got in my car, and drove to Tony’s Pizza.
I have no clue where Jules lives and while I’m quite confident her manager would hand me her address without a care in the world, that’s definitely too stalkerlike. But I do know Tony’s is near her house because it’s only a few miles from Sweetbrier, and she told me Friday night that her commute was only like five minutes. So I know I’m in the general vicinity of where she lives.
As I sit in the parking lot of Tony’s, I pull my phone out and dial Jules’ number, my heart pounding hard as I wait for her to answer, slightly terrified she won’t.
She picks up on the second ring and answers with a tentative whisper, her tone of voice wondering who is calling her since I did not give her my number and she wouldn’t recognize it. “Hello?”
“Have you started on dinner yet for you and the kids?” I ask. I’m taking a guess she’s with the kids because I learned Friday night that she doesn’t work weekends except for watching a friend’s kid who watches her crew during weeknights when she’s working at the convenience store. It’s been raining all day today, so I hoped they’d all be there at Jules’ apartment.
“Max?” she asks hesitantly.
“Well, of course it’s Max,” I tease her lightly. “Or do you have so many men chasing after you that you can’t keep us straight?”
She laughs softly and it flows through my veins like a sweet lazy river. I like that sound so much, I immediately yearn to hear it again.
“You just caught me off guard,” she says by way of explanation.
“Didn’t think I’d call, did you?” I guess.
“Nope,” she admits candidly. “I’m not exactly a great catch.”
“I beg to differ,” I say, but I don’t want to belabor that point with her because I’m not sure I have enough breath in my lungs to have my reason penetrate her doubtful head. Besides, I intend to show her through actions that I’m interested in her quite a bit, despite the messiness of her life right now. Friday night was one of the best hours I’d spent in a long, long time. Fun, humorous conversation that was virtually effortless, and let’s not forget…she is not hard to look at.
I continue on. “So, I’m getting ready to order pizza. You cool with New York style and just pepperoni? It’s my favorite but I could be persuaded to order something else.”
“Huh?”
“Pizza, Jules. Pizza. I’m getting pizza for you and the kids, and going to deliver it to you. You’ll be nice, invite me in to eat with you, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“Pizza?” she mumbles.
“I might bring cannoli too,” I add on to tempt her further.
“You’re crazy,” she murmurs.
“Quite possibly. So what kind of pizza do you and the kids like, and what’s your address?”
“My apartment is a mess,” she warns me.
“Don’t care.”
“The kids are kind of wired today since it’s been raining and they’ve been stuck inside,” she warns further.
“We’ll stuff them with pizza and then put in a movie for them to watch,” I suggest. “It’ll be fine.”
She huffs out a breath, remains silent for a moment, then says, “Fine. We all love New York style and I’ll text you my address.”
“Awesome,” I tell her, and then I give a double fist pump inside my car. I can’t believe she gave in that easy.
This isn’t going quite how I expected, but it’s cool.
Totally cool that three little kids are repetitively whipping my ass at Candy Land. I draw a card, note the blue square, and advance my gingerbread pawn and fucking land on a licorice drop.
Again.
At age six and the middle child, Levy—who I quickly realized is the true troublemaker of this crew—points a finger and laughs almost maniacally at me. “You lose a turn, Max. In your face.”
Little brat.
But I laugh back at him, watch as Annabelle—who proudly announced to me she is four and a half years old—pulls a yellow card and advances to the Candy Castle for her third win. She lets out a “yippee” as she smirks at Levy, who’s only won one game, while she’s won three. Rocco is the oldest at seven and you can tell he’s sort of an old soul. While he’s also only won one game, he praises Annabelle for her victory.
Yeah…not how I thought this would go.
I showed up with hot pizzas and my nerves on overdrive as I realized I was getting ready to not only spend time with Jules, which produced the good kind of nerves, but that I’d also be interacting with her niece and nephews. It suddenly hit me…I want Jules to like me, and if I want that, those kids better fucking like me.
I had hoped a nice bribery of gooey pizza and then the DVD copy of The Incredibles would be sufficient. I’d hoped after we ate, the kids would watch the movie and I’d be able to perhaps talk to Jules, or even stare at her a bit if that’s all I could finagle. But she informed me after we ate that she didn’t own a DVD player and even if she did, her TV didn’t work because of two active boys that may have knocked the TV over during a wrestling match.
Thankfully, neither one had been hurt, but the TV didn’t survive, something inside having been jarred loose, and Jules simply couldn’t afford to fix it.
So I got stuck playing Candy Land with the kids while Jules finished up laundry, got their clothes ready for the next day, and packed the boys’ lunches. In between the second and third game, I found her in the bathroom scrubbing out the toilet. She just looked at me sheepishly and muttered, “Sorry…but I’m totally taking advantage of you keeping them occupied so I can get ahead on a few things that need to be done.”
Christ…it was a fucking punch to the gut as I realized Jules couldn’t even sit down longer than the fifteen minutes it took her to eat two slices of pizza before she was pressed into answering the call of responsibility. I wanted to pull her away, rip those nasty yellow rubber gloves she was wearing off, and make her go sit down on the couch to rest. Instead I asked, “Want me to help do something?”
She grinned at me and said, “Trust me…this is actually a nice break from having to entertain three rambunctious kids. You playing with them is doing me a huge favor.”
I nodded and started to turn away, but she called, “Max?”
I turned back.
“Thanks. I know this is an awful way to spend your time.”
Another punch to the gut.
“Jules,” I told her as my eyes pinned her in place, “watching you scrub that toilet and playing a horribly boring game over and over again is the highlight of my day.”
And that’s the truth.
Well, mostly the truth. I’d rather have been watching a movie, but whatever. I think she got my point that I would take her how I could get her. And besides, I’m still trying to figure things out. Trying to figure out what I’m trying to get out of all of this, and whether or not I can even see any feasible way of getting some time with her alone to figure those things out.
But for now…this works.
I’m not in a rush.
“Let’s play again,” Levy says aggressively as he pulls all the gingerbread men back to the start. “I want to win again.”
I groan internally but try to put a pleasant smile on my face. Luckily, I’m saved when Jules walks into the tiny kitchen that opens up into the living room and says, “Okay, kids. It’s time to get to bed.”
This is met by grumbles all around, but fuck…they’re kind of cute doing it. They’re each ready for bed, even though it’s only a little after eight P.M. as Jules had them take their respective baths immediately after dinner. Annabelle has on a pink pajama set that has a unicorn on the front. It looks old and faded but totally comfy. Levy is wearing equally faded Batman pajamas while Rocco sports Superman pj’s.
Jules levels them all with a stern look and holds an arm out, indicating for each of them to precede her down the hallway. More grumbling as Levy and Rocco mutter good nights to me, but Annabelle hops off the chair and runs around the table. “Thank you for the pizza and playing with us.”
She looks so much like Jules, there’s no wonder I originally thought she was their mother. This means that Melody and Jules must have looked a lot alike. Tonight I’ve been very impressed with how well adjusted the kids seem, despite losing their mom four months ago. And Jules…she’s a fucking dynamo, easily alternating between loving aunt and stern guardian when needed.
“You’re welcome, Annabelle. Can’t wait to play with you again.”
She gives me a huge grin and turns around to run down the hallway. Jules shoots me a soft smile before turning to follow the kids. That smile…the way in which she said thank you in about a million different ways with just that one look has me rising from my chair and following them down the hall, intrigued to see how she gets the kids to sleep.
The first door on the left is where I find all of them, as Rocco and Levy climb into a double bed and Annabelle waits patiently for Jules to tuck them in. Watching her hold the covers up so they can push their little legs in, then pulling them up to their chins…the way she leans across the bed and kisses first Rocco on the forehead, and then pulling back to do the same to Levy, touches me deeply. She may feel in over her head, and this I know because I’ve seen the look of frustration and defeat at times, she’s a fucking natural at this. Whether it’s raising her niece and nephews or her own children, she was destined to be a mother one day.
Jules turns out the light, picks Annabelle up, and perches her on her hip. She sees me standing in the doorway and her look is accepting of me watching the intimacy of their bedtime ritual. I even get a soft smile as I step back from the doorway to let her by before following her to the room on the opposite side of the hall.
I immediately know this is Jules’ room because this is only a two-bedroom apartment and I quickly figure Annabelle sleeps in here with her. A small bedside lamp is on, casting the room in a warm glow. Her comforter is done in mint green with tiny roses embroidered around the edges. It’s a little more feminine than I would have pictured a strong woman like her having, but it works, I guess. As Jules starts the process of tucking Annabelle in, which apparently includes reading her favorite book, I walk over to a dresser on the opposite wall of the small room and pick up a frame that holds a picture of two women.
I immediately know this is Jules and her sister, Melody. They’re both outside and the sun is shining brightly on them. They have the same eyes, which seem to glow not only from the rays of the sun but from sort of an inner vitality that you can tell they both possess. Their arms are wrapped tightly around each other and their cheeks are pressed together as they look at the camera and appear to be laughing at whoever is taking the picture. It’s both gorgeous and sad, knowing that one of those lights has been completely snuffed out and the other has been dampened.
I set the frame down, vaguely listen as Jules reads to Annabelle about a giraffe that can’t dance, and my eyes slide to a painting on the wall to the side of her dresser.
It’s done in gallery wrap canvas and I’m stunned by the boldness of the colors, only enhanced by the boldness of the brushstrokes. It’s a night scene, the sky done in various shades of blue darkening at the horizon and getting lighter in the foreground. A lone row of autumn trees colored in oranges and reds are lit up from below by streetlamps, and a concrete walkway runs parallel. A woman walks along the path, her back to the viewer. She’s wearing a trench coat and carries a bright yellow umbrella to shield her from the rain. But I don’t need the umbrella to tell me it’s raining in the painting. I know this because the leaves on the trees are dewy-looking and the streetlights are reflected on the concrete, which looks shiny and slick. What really strikes me about the painting though is that I immediately recognize details like that, but it’s not because of fine brushstrokes. Rather, it’s done in chunky swatches of color that if you were to look closely at it wouldn’t make sense, but from afar I can tell without a doubt that it’s a dark rainy night.
I wonder why she’s got such a remarkable painting in this room and I also have to wonder how she afforded it, because it’s quality work and I’d like to know more about the artist. My mother is a freak when it comes to original pieces of art, and our house back in Montreal is filled with all of her finds. She’d love something like this, I’m sure.
I turn to the bed and see Jules has finished the story and is pulling the covers up around Annabelle, so I make my way to the bedroom door. She bends down and kisses Annabelle on the forehead, same as she did for the boys, but Annabelle responds by grabbing Jules around the neck and giving her a hug that’s very fierce for such a little girl.
“Good night, Mommy,” Annabelle says in a sweet voice, and I don’t miss the fact that Jules’ body stiffens slightly.
But she holds still until Annabelle releases her, and when she pulls back she gives the little girl a warm smile. “ ’Night, pumpkin. Sweet dreams.”
“Okay,” Annabelle says and then turns on her side, tucks her hand under her head and closes her eyes.
Jules turns to look at me as her hand goes to the lamp, and just before she turns it off, my gut clenches when I see the uncertainty rippling in her eyes.