Chapter Seven – A Beautiful Day
Carly
It’s a beautiful October day. The sun is shining and the air has yet to turn humid and unbearable. Even for October, the harsh summer has rolled right into fall, leaving air conditioners fired up and summer clothes a predominant part of everyday attire.
“You ready to go?” I ask Natalia as I strap her in the stroller. I haven’t jogged in a while. Okay, fine. I was never really a jogger, but I have always enjoyed a good, cleansing power walk. So on this beautiful Saturday morning, sporting a tank top, stretchy black shorts, and my worn Nikes, I load up Nat in the jogging stroller to take her for a cruise around the neighborhood.
I was lucky to get this place. My apartment was given to me as a college graduation present from my uncle. Another peace offering. The one he wanted to gift me was closer to the strip and was three times the amount of money. But, I didn’t want to live in the middle of all the Vegas excitement. While I love the city I was born and raised in, I wanted a quiet subdivision where I could walk at night without fear of getting mugged or hit on by a drunk Drag Queen. This place has a great security system and a Neighborhood Watch. My uncle made sure of it.
There’s a nice public school where Natalia will someday attend just down the road from my apartment. It was another selling point when I helped my uncle check out different properties. The police patrol it frequently enough to make me feel safe and secure within the community. Of course, that still doesn’t mean I’m leaving my doors unlocked or hiding a key under the front mat.
We take off down the street heading towards the school. Since its Saturday, the playground equipment and the classrooms are vacant. We keep walking past the unoccupied swings and head towards Poplar Avenue a mile away. Poplar is full of small organic stores and a wide variety of fitness studios. But right smack dab in the middle of all the health food sits one of my favorite little ice cream parlors. They serve the world’s best fresh peach frozen yogurt, and today, that’s my destination.
When we finally reach the ice cream parlor, I’m winded and have worked up quite a sweat. I park the jogging stroller outside of the door and slip inside. Cold air hits me square in the face offering relief from the desert heat outside. Natalia seems to recognize exactly where we are because she gets excited as I approach the counter. I try to keep her quiet while we wait for our turn to order, but it doesn’t seem to work. A few patrons give me “the look” while others offer me a friendly smile and just laugh at my daughter’s excitement.
Cup of fresh peach frozen yogurt and a bottle of water in hand, I head back outside to grab the stroller. With Natalia securely strapped back inside, we head over to one of the empty tables that litter the sidewalk. I grab Nat’s sippy cup and try to get her to drink some water, but her eyes are firmly glued on the bowl of melting yogurt. She lets out an ear-piercing squeal when I apparently take too long, so I take one quick drink of water before grabbing the spoon.
“Good?” I ask my smiling daughter as she gums the delicious, cold treat. I shovel it in as fast as I can, which still doesn’t quite seem fast enough by her standards, and smile down at her happy face. We’ve had a hard year with her colic and digestive troubles, but we’ve been happy. I wouldn’t trade a single moment. Not one of those sleepless nights or crying fits for anything in the world. Watching my daughter smile at me, at the world around her, is my greatest joy.
My thoughts switch swiftly to the fact that my angel won’t have a father. I knew it the moment I saw the plus sign on the pregnancy test that I was doing this solo. I didn’t even know his last name, you know? Plus, he said he was starting a new job. Could be in Vegas, could be in Egypt for all I know. But as we live each day, enjoying the good ones and coping with the bad ones, I know what she’s going to go through. I know what it’s like to not have a father present in your life. My own was absent until gone completely, and hers not even around from the first day. It saddens me to know what she’ll be missing. And what he’s missing too.
If I had the chance to tell him would I? I’d like to think I would. Not knowing what kind of person he really is, I think I got enough of a glimpse of the man deep down inside of him to make a logical, rational decision. Even if that glimpse was filled with passion and intense urgency. If he were the type of man that he showed me two years ago, caring, hardworking, and dedicated, I would definitely tell him. Maybe not right away, but as soon as I knew him enough to trust him with our daughter.
My daughter’s eyes begin to droop and her head begins to sway indicating that she’s dropping fast. She starts to wiggle and fuss as she tries to fight the sleep taking over her small little body. Every day, she fights it. Instead of just giving in and letting herself be lulled to sleep, she fights it as hard as humanly possible, not giving in until the very last possible nanosecond. I enjoy sleep and never fight it, so the only conclusion is that she must get this behavior from her father.
I toss our cup and napkins in the trash bin and point the stroller towards the direction we came. I move the back of the stroller seat until it’s completely reclined which upsets Nat to no end. How can she fight sleep if she can’t watch her surroundings?
By the time I reach the end of the block, her whimpering is non-existent. I keep my pace swift but not quite as fast as the walk to the ice cream parlor an hour ago. Maybe that has something to do with the cup of frozen deliciousness I just consumed. Could be, but I’ll just stick with the fact that it’s warmer outside now.
When I reach the apartment, I spy my car in the parking lot. Mom took delivery for me yesterday while I was at work, signing all of the papers needed. She left all of the paperwork on my counter for me to review last night. When I saw the payment section, it said “Paid In Full” which surprised and concerned me. I didn’t realize the insurance would pay so quickly, but that’s the only logical solution. I surely didn’t write any check or hand over any plastic. The business card attached to the paperwork is what stole my breath, though. Blake Crisp. Sure, there’s thousands, probably hundreds of thousands of men everywhere in the world named Blake, so why would this Blake matter? Probably because every time I see that name, I wonder if he’s my mystery Blake.
After laying my sleeping toddler down in her crib, I head to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of white wine. I’m not much of a drinker, but sometimes I just need a little something to help me relax. The clock says almost four o’clock, which means I’ll be starting dinner soon, and have yet to figure out what in the heck I’m going to make for us. When I set my glass down on the counter top, I can’t help but glance down at the business card lying on top of the small stack of papers. Picking it up, I hold it firmly and read the name once more. Blake Crisp.
After several moments of just looking at the big block letters, I toss the card back down on the counter. I’m sure this Blake isn’t my Blake. In fact, I’m certain. If he were going to be a mechanic at a shop, why would he make it seem like he was going to be completely unavailable? Surely someone who was getting ready to start work in an auto repair shop certainly could continue to see a woman after work if they both so chose. Which only reinforces my thought that this Blake is in no way my Blake.
But why am I still left feeling slightly uneasy?
* * *
The next morning, Mom arrives at seven-thirty sharp to go with us to church. I feel bad going because I’m always the woman whose baby is a perfect angel until the sermon starts. As soon as the congregation sits and the pastor starts to speak, that’s when Nat decides she’s had enough.
I don’t attend every Sunday like I probably should. Mom always grants me a pass, saying that it’s not the frequency of your visits as long as you go every once in awhile. So, here I am on an early Sunday morning, with diaper bag in hand, heading to church. It’s actually my second time this month, if you can believe it.
“Ready?” she asks from the doorway before taking her granddaughter from my arms.
“Yep. I think I have everything.” I give the room a quick once-over just to make sure the coffee pot and television are off.
The ride to church only takes about fifteen minutes since traffic is somewhat light. The small Lutheran church is nestled back in a great little subdivision where everyone has a white picket fence surrounding their yard. It’s nothing to drive down this road on a Sunday morning and watch them watering their AstroTurf yard or getting the pool floaties out for the day.
Mom is carrying Nat as we walk up the front steps, greeted by an older couple I’ve seen every Sunday that I attend. They wear the exact same outfit, too, no matter what time of year. They are without a doubt the cutest old couple ever with their handholding and their grandparent smiles. I didn’t know my grandparents, but I always imagined that this is what they would have looked like.
“Good morning, dear,” the older woman says to me before turning her attention to Natalia, giving her the typical pat on the top of her head.
“Good morning,” I reply as we walk through the door.
“Do you want to sit in back?” Mom always asks. Of course, I want to sit in back. As soon as Natalia starts her stuff, I try to get out of the chapel as quickly as humanly possible. I hate being the person that everyone is staring at, waiting on me to hush the noisy baby. Of course, I’m not the only young mom in church. Several other babies attend on a regular basis, but I am the only single mom who attends every so often when the guilt of not going starts to weigh her down.
Hey, don’t judge me.
I nod a firm confirmation to my mom and slip in one of the back pews. Several other families are gathered around, all close to the exit in case someone needs to make a fast getaway. I haven’t made it through an entire church service since I was living at home. I can say that because following leaving home, going to college, and living on my own as a young twenty-something, single woman, I didn’t have time to go to church. Hell, I was usually just getting home. Mom never pushed until I got pregnant. Even then, she didn’t push per se, she just suggested I attend with her every once in a while. So, here we are on a Sunday morning, waiting for the service to start.
We barely make it through the first song and I realize today is going to be a difficult day for Miss Natalia. She won’t sit still, won’t play with her toys, and won’t be quiet. She’s basically a church nightmare.
To save myself the embarrassment, I go ahead and excuse myself, firmly latching onto the wiggle worm in my arms, and head to the family room just outside of the main chapel. There’s a small area where families can entertain children, change diapers, or whatever without completely disrupting what is happening on the other side of the big wooden doors.
Natalia, who has been walking for only a few weeks now, is all over that little room. Toys are being strewn from one end to the other, and no matter how much I try to keep it somewhat organized, it’s like a mini-hurricane blew through the room in her wake. It’s just my luck that as soon as I throw my hands in the air and give up, at least until she calms down, a nice looking man walks in carrying a small boy. I’m guessing the child is three or four years old with light brown eyes and matching hair. He’s the spitting image of his dad.
“Hi,” he says with a polite smile as he sets the little boy down to play.
“Hello,” I reply before grabbing the block Natalia is about to put in her mouth. Who knows where that block has been?
“You’re Carly, right?” he asks as he sits down in one of the comfy chairs across from me.
“I am,” I say incredulously. I noticed he was good looking when he walked in, but now that he’s sitting full-on in front of me, this guy is gorgeous. His light brown eyes are sparkling and his hair has that tussled, yet stylish look with just a slight curl to the ends. He’s wearing a plain green polo shirt tucked into pressed Dockers. My heart rate actually kicks up a few beats. “How did you know?”
“Oh,” he starts but then looks down at the little boy playing with a large fire truck. It takes him a few seconds before he finishes. “I kinda asked around a few weeks back when you were here.” I’m pretty sure I blush ten shades of pink at his admission.
“Oh,” I say shyly, looking back down at Natalia who is now trying to take the fire truck away from the young boy. “Is this your son?” I ask as I try to gently pry my daughter away from the little boy’s toy.
“Yeah, this is Liam. He just turned four. Oh, and I’m Bill,” he says, extending his hand forward for me to shake.
“Carly,” I say and then realize my mistake. “But I guess you already know that,” I add with another blush and a smile.
“Yeah, well you are the prettiest girl in church, and I just needed to know your name.” His confession hits me square in the gut. He thinks I’m pretty? God, I haven’t felt pretty in I don’t know how long. Actually, I do know, but I’m determined not to think about that night right now.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“So, I know we just met and everything, but would you like to have coffee with me sometime?” he asks, his handsome face radiating tepidness and hope. Part of me wants to say no. Am I ready to date? Is this a date? Coffee is a date, right?
Oh hell…
The other part of me really wants to say yes. I’ve been stuck living one certain day over and over again for too long; like the movie “Groundhog Day,” I just can’t seem to get out of the rut. Blake is never coming back. He made that clear the night we spent together, so there’s nothing wrong with me finally moving on. Moving forward. That’s what I want. I want to move forward, and for the first time, I feel like I might be ready to take that step.
So without giving it another thought, I look up at him and say, “Sure.”
“Really?” he asks, seeming surprised by my acceptance of his invitation.
“Yeah, I’d love to have coffee with you,” I say as Natalia starts to throw building blocks at Liam. “Natalia, no no,” I chastise in a forceful voice.
“Oh, I remember that age. Wait until she hits two. If you still have hair by the time she reaches three, three and a half, consider yourself lucky,” he says with a laugh, earning one from me in return.
“Well, you have great hair so you must have fared well enough.”
“It’s all an illusion. Liam and I barely made it through.” The far-off look he gets makes me want to ask him to elaborate, but before I can, the door opens and my mom walks in. She seems awfully happy to see me sitting with Bill while our kids tear up the room around us.
“Hi,” I say, trying to keep her attention to me and not towards Bill.
“Hello,” Mom says to me before turning towards the man sitting across from me. “I’m Georgia.”
“Bill Adler, and this is my son, Liam.”
“Well, it’s so nice to meet you, Bill. And I see you’ve met my daughter, Carly?” she asks, stepping next to me with a weird smile on her face. I know that smile. Her mind is working overtime at something, and I’m sure it has everything to do with Bill. She probably has me married off and pregnant again in her mind right now.
“I have finally had the pleasure of meeting Carly,” Bill says. “And I hope to see you all again soon,” he adds before helping Liam pick up the toys he got out. I do the same, though it appears I’m putting quite a bit more away than he is. Natalia is a terror.
When we have the room picked back up as best as we can, Bill turns back toward me and pulls the cell phone from his pocket. He starts typing before handing me the small device. I take that as my cue to fill in my personal contact information. I hesitate, but only for a few seconds. Step one in moving on: give a good-looking guy your phone number.
I hand him back his phone and the room seems to stale with dead silence. Mom appears to be watching us both, smiling with a big grin, until Bill finally gathers up Liam’s hand in his and turns towards me. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Carly. I’ll call you soon,” he says with another friendly smile. Yep, nice teeth. Nice smile. Handsome face. Decent body, a little on the skinny side, but hey, they can’t all be a hunk of beefcake. He appears to have it all.
Yet, he appears to be all wrong.
I shake off the negativity, and offer him a kind smile. “Yes, I’ll look forward to your call.”
Bill throws my mom a wave before stepping out and exiting the room completely with his young son in tow. I try to busy myself with gathering up Natalia, but I can feel my mother’s eyes burning into the back of my skull; like little laser beams embedding in my brain. I already know there’s no way in hell I’m going to get away with not telling her the entire story, but I’d at least like to get outside of God’s House before I blurt out that I have my first date in years.
Of course, she can’t wait. “What was all of that? It sounds like you two hit it off well.”
“Can we wait until we’re in the car?” I ask quietly as we step outside and slip into the receiving line to say goodbye to the pastor.
“I suppose. It’s only buying you a few minutes, though,” she says with a sassy smile. I roll my eyes, but know she’s right. I have a matter of minutes before I’m interrogated by the woman who was always able to figure out each and every one of my childhood lies. The woman should have been in the FBI.
I barely get the door closed to the car and she’s waiting. She sits there all prim and proper in her Sunday best, but deep down she’s chomping at the bit to find out all the juicy details about my encounter with Bill. “Ask.”
“What was that all about in the Family Room?” she asks without turning the car over.
“Bill asked me for coffee. I accepted. End of story.” I try for casual even though deep down, I’m freaking the hell out. I can’t believe I actually said yes.
“And that’s it?” she asks a little shocked.
“That’s it. He’ll either call me or he won’t.”
“And if he does call you, then what?”
I make sure my seatbelt is securely in place, signaling my readiness to leave, before answering. “I’ll probably go have coffee with him. I mean it’s only coffee, right?”
“Yeah, it’s only coffee, but you haven’t had only coffee with someone in a long time, sweetie. I’m glad you’re finally taking this step; for you and for Natalia.” I knew it. She was already picking out china patterns and deciding between the smoked salmon and the beef wellington.
“Mom, its only coffee. It’s not like we’re getting married. I have a very long way to go before this goes further than coffee,” I say, nervously smoothing a hand down my taupe skirt.
“Oh, I know, I know. It’s just that I’m a little shocked and very happy that you said yes. Bill might not be the right guy for you, sweetie, but at least you’re willing to try to find out. I’ve never said anything to you before, never asked too many questions about Natalia’s father, but I always saw the sadness in your eyes. This is a big step for you, and I’m proud of you for taking it,” my mom tells me with a look of sympathy. Mom knew that I was raising Natalia alone, but never really pulled for more information after I told her that it just didn’t work out between him and me. As much as she wanted to, she respected my decisions and my choices in life.
“Thank you,” I respond as my eyes fill with tears. I don’t know if I’m crying from the understanding and love in her words, or from the fact that I’m basically letting go of something that was never to be. Maybe it’s a little of both.
We head home, Mom in a much lighter mood than I am as she sings a song to Natalia in the backseat. It’s not that I’m in a bad mood, per se, it’s that I can’t stop thinking about what she said and trying to determine why I was on the verge of crying a few moments ago. It makes me want to release those unshed tears when I realize that I might actually be crying for the loss of something I never even really had in the first place. It all comes down to Blake.
It always comes down to him.