“So Jackson mentioned the most interesting thing to me today,” my grandma says just seconds after I buckle my son in the backseat of my car and shut the door.
“Oh yeah?” I question, only half paying attention. My mind has been anywhere but present today.
“When were you planning to tell me that you have a man living with you?” Her question snaps me out of my fog, and I look up to find her watching me closely. “I find it curious that I had to find out about this from Jack. Were you planning to tell me at some point?”
“I didn’t think to mention it honestly.” I play it off like it’s nothing.
“Is that because you knew I wouldn’t agree?” She shifts her stance. “Because I don’t have to tell you how irresponsible it is to bring men in and out of Jackson’s life so willy-nilly.”
“I’m not doing anything of the sort.”
I wish my tone wasn’t so defensive, but I can’t help it. She makes me feel the need to defend myself, and that only pisses me off more because she knows nothing of the situation.
“Then what do you call it?”
“I’d call it helping out a friend,” I snip. “Ant isn’t just any guy. He’s been my friend for years. He moved here from Connecticut recently and needed a place to stay for a few weeks until he can find a place of his own. Him staying with us is no different than any other friend staying.”
“And where is this friend of yours sleeping?” She cocks a brow at me.
“Oh my God, Grandma.” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “On the couch. He’s sleeping on the couch, okay?”
“I don’t know why you’re getting so defensive.”
“Because you’re assuming the worst of me.”
“I am not. I just want to make sure you’re thinking of Jackson first.”
“I’m always thinking of Jack. He’s all I ever think about. Everything I do is for him. I think I’ve proven that, have I not?”
“Bree, honey.” She softens her voice. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”
“No, you want to make sure I’m not her.” My voice goes up an octave.
“I know you’re not.” Now it’s her turn to get defensive.
“Do you? Because I thought so, and now I’m not so sure.” I push back the tears that bite the back of my eyes.
I hate fighting with my grandma. She’s the one person I can’t seem to hide my emotions from and that only succeeds in making me angrier.
“I have never compared you to your mother.”
“Maybe not out loud, but I see the way you look at me sometimes.”
“Bree, you are nothing like your mother. Nothing. Do you hear me? I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, but I worry about you and Jack.”
“You don’t need to worry about us.”
“Yes, I do. Because I love you, and that’s my job. That’s what parents and grandparents do—we worry. I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just wanted to make sure you were thinking about the effects having him there could have on Jack. The way he talks about him, he’s very fond of him. I just don’t want to see him get hurt.”
“He won’t get hurt. Ant adores Jack, and he would never hurt him.”
“Maybe not intentionally. But do you not think Jack is going to care when Ant suddenly isn’t around anymore? You don’t think that will affect him?”
“He’s only going to be there a few more days, and he will come visit once he has his own place. I’ve thought this through. I know what I’m doing.”
“Well, for his sake, I hope you do.” She gestures to where Jack is sitting in the backseat, completely oblivious to the small altercation taking place just on the other side of the car door.
“Are you done? I have somewhere I need to be.” I hate being so short with her, but right now if I don’t get out of here it’s likely to end up much worse.
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, it’s fine.” I blink back unshed tears.
“I really do just want what’s best for you and for him.”
“I know you do, but you also need to learn to trust that I know what that is. No matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, no matter how far I’ve come, you’re still looking over my shoulder waiting for me to repeat her mistakes.”
“Your mother wasn’t always that person. When your father left…” She trails off before adding, “People change.”
“I’m not weak like her. I’m not selfish. I know the kind of person my mother is. Trust me when I say, I will never be like her.”
“I know you won’t, honey.”
“Do you? I mean, do you really?”
“Of course, I do.” She reaches out, taking my hand in hers.
“Then you need to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay.” She finally concedes. “I’m sorry I overstepped.”
“I know you mean well,” I say, feeling guilty for being so harsh with her.
“You two mean the world to me.”
“I know we do.”
“I just want to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
“I’m a big girl, Gran. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can. Sometimes I forget that you’re not a child anymore.”
“Mama.” I hear Jack before I have a chance to respond. I turn to see him kicking his legs into the back of the seat, clearly growing restless.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say, turning back to my grandma.
“Of course.” She gives me a soft smile, offering Jack a wave as I climb into the driver’s seat and roll my window down.
“I’ll see you Monday then?” she asks as I start the car and pop it into reverse.
“Yes.” I nod.
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Love you, Nana,” Jack calls from the backseat.
“I love you too, my sweet boy,” she calls through the window at him.
One more small wave and I’m pulling out of the driveway, anxious to get the hell away from this entire situation and all the swirling questions it has left me with.
“Hey, you okay? You’re awfully quiet tonight.” Ant leans against the counter next to the stove where I’m currently making spaghetti.
“Yeah, fine.” I keep my eyes focused on the boiling pasta, still unable to shake the uneasy feeling the conversation with my grandma left me with.
“You sure, because you don’t seem fine.”
“It’s just been a long day,” I say, stirring the sauce simmering on the back burner of the stove.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” he says, snagging the spoon from my hand before sitting it on the counter.
I turn my gaze to find him watching me intently like he’s just waiting for something big to happen.
“I said it’s nothing,” I snip, spinning toward the fridge and proceeding to pull the milk out.
He follows me every step of the way, not giving me an ounce of space to avoid him. He waits patiently until I’ve poured three glasses and placed the milk back in the fridge before taking me by the shoulders and forcing me to face him.
“Bree, this is me. Just tell me what it is. Is it something I did?”
I feel an immediate knock of guilt as I realize what this must look like to him. Last night we shared an incredible kiss and then today I’m totally shutting him out. I can see it in his eyes, he thinks this is his fault.
“No. Of course not,” I say, watching relief flood in his eyes.
“Then what?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“After you move, you’ll still come see Jack, right? You don’t just spend time with him because you’re staying here, do you?”
“Are you seriously asking me this right now?” His question is serious, but there’s a bit of humor playing on his lips. “Bree, I love the hell out of that little boy. Of course I will still come visit him after I move. You can’t get rid of me that easy.” He smiles, the action easy and genuine. “Is that what you’ve been worrying over?” He pulls me into his arms, dropping a kiss on the top of my head as he does.
“My grandma found out you were living here. She’s concerned,” I admit, pulling back to look up at him.
“And she got into your head and now you’re concerned,” he states.
“She just got me asking myself a lot of questions I hadn’t thought to ask before.” I let out a slow breath.
“You know me, Bree. You know I would never intentionally hurt you or your son.”
“Intentionally,” I repeat the one word.
“What?” He seems confused.
“You said you would never intentionally. Maybe it’s the unintentionally I’m worried about.”
“I can’t promise that I’ll never do anything to hurt you. I’m human, and I’m bound to fuck up from time to time. Even someone as perfect as me has his moments.” He winks and then laughs when I shove him and take two full steps backward.
“You take nothing seriously,” I accuse, wagging my finger at him.
“Trust me, I take this seriously. I may be trying to lighten the mood by joking, but I promise you I’m hearing every word you’re saying. No, I can’t say I’ll never hurt you. But I can promise you I’ll do everything in my power to never let that happen.”
“You mean a lot to me, you know?” I’m not sure where the statement comes from, but it just rolls right off my lips like it’s nothing.
“You mean a lot to me too.” He steps forward, pulling me back into his arms.
I take a moment to relish in the feel of him, to pretend for just a brief moment that our actions truly have no ramifications on any of us and that nothing will change. Only it is changing. Moment by moment, bit by bit, touch by touch.
“Mama.”
I pull out of Ant’s embrace at the sound of Jack’s voice. He bounds up to where we’re standing in the kitchen and holds his tablet out to me.
“What is it, buddy?” I ask, looking at the screen where the phonics game he’s playing is currently paused.
“I can’t get through this level.” He sighs, exasperated, and the action has me covering my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing.
I meet Ant’s eyes, and he seems to be doing the same thing. Jackson is such an animated child who sometimes comes across much older than his five years.
“Well, let me take a look.” I smile down at him before focusing on the screen as I un-pause the game.
I look it for all of thirty seconds and swear I’m already going cross-eyed. He’s doing some puzzle game, but the pieces are in all directions and you have to figure out the puzzle before you get the next clue to move on in the game.
Ant, sensing my dilemma, quickly snags the tablet from my hands with a chuckle.
“Come on, Jack man; let’s go figure this out in the living room while your mama finishes making dinner.” Ant winks in my direction before leading Jack from the room.
I stare at the doorway they just exited through for a long moment, wondering if this is what it feels like to have a real family. The mom, dad, and son; just a normal night at home. I know it’s a ludicrous thought, one that would never happen for the three of us. But the more Ant is around, the harder of a time I seem to be having reminding myself of this fact.
I think what happened last night is clear proof that he’s at least attracted to me. You don’t kiss someone the way Ant kissed me and not be at least a little interested. But then he was so quick to let me off the hook which leaves me wondering if maybe it was just his way of backing out because he changed his mind.
My mind continues to swirl around the possibilities as I finish up dinner. By the time it’s ready and I’ve made all three of us plates, an anxious knot has formed in my stomach and my appetite is nowhere to be found.
I’m not sure what I’m doing here. I work tirelessly to convince myself what I want everyone else to believe—that Ant and I are just friends. When in reality, he feels like so much more than that.
I’m just not sure what, if anything, I can do about it. But I’m also not sure if I can continue to ignore the way I feel either. I’m in a catch twenty-two, and I’m not sure which way is the right way.
“You need help with that?” Ant appears in the doorway of the kitchen, Jack sitting atop his shoulders with a wide smile on his little face.
The sight nearly brings me straight to the floor.
Ant, so tall and handsome, looking at me the way I’ve always wished he would. Jack, looking so happy his little cheeks might split apart, his head tilted back in laughter as Ant bobs on his heels causing Jackson to bounce up and down on his shoulders.
It’s hard fighting what’s happening between us—the magic, the pull, this weird gut feeling that this is how it was always meant to be—when they fit together in my life so perfectly.
“Nope. I got it,” I finally answer, shooing them out of the doorway.
Ant smiles wider and then gallops away making horse sounds while Jack squeals happily through the apartment.
I have to fight back the tears and the laughter at the same time because, honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt quite so many conflicting emotions before.
I know what it feels like to be afraid. I know what it feels like to be ashamed, alone, and hurt—both mentally and physically. To feel like I’ll never be enough. Oddly enough those feelings I can handle.
But these feelings, the ones currently pumping through me—the hope and love and possibility—I have no idea how to handle a single one.
Maybe this is another one of life’s cruel tricks. Having something you’ve always wanted within your grasp but not having the courage to reach out and just take it.