Page 19 of Retrofit Analysis

No, I’m not lonely. But Orla’s right about one thing. I’m not social. And she’s also right that I enjoy getting to know Jake. I swallow, remembering my time in the shower this morning where I yet again played out fantasies with Elizabeth. The room heats up as I recall how savagely I touched myself, thinking about the scent of her in my car the other day.

She and I haven’t had any real conversations, not privately. She’s been to dinner with my entire family and I’ve taught her son to mow the lawn, but apart from that car ride I haven’t sat and talked to her. It seems disrespectful to use her in my fantasies and not at least take her out to dinner. Maybe Orla’s onto something.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up my cell and call Beth. She answers breathlessly, like she’s just been struggling with something. I look at the time. “Oh, crap. Are you driving Jake to school?”

“No, no,” she huffs. “I walked him to the bus stop this morning.” I hear the mismatched clunk of her walking cast as she thunks back home.

“Should you be doing that? With your foot?”

“What can I do for you, Kellen,” she counters, an edge to her voice.

I close my eyes and swallow. “I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me this weekend.” There’s silence on the other end of the call. I worry it got disconnected until I hear the throttle of a motorcycle passing near her. “Beth?”

“I…um, yes.”

“Yes?”

“I guess you can’t see me nodding, can you.” She laughs. “I am interested in having dinner with you, but I’m concerned that Jake’s father won’t show up.”

I don’t want to reveal the sinking disappointment I feel at this reminder that, though we are both adults, we are not both independent in the same way. “Well,” I respond. “If that happens, why don’t the three of us eat together.”

“Are you sure? Jake is very particular about his Friday night routine.”

“I like spending time with you both,” I say, truthfully. “But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t prefer to have you to myself.”

I hear a quick intake of breath as Elizabeth gasps, and I worry I’ve said something inappropriate. I hear the sound of her unlocking her door, clunking inside with her boot. “Well,” she says. “See you Friday? Maybe I can text you whether Todd shows up?”

“I could just watch from inside my window.”

“Right. And that’s not creepy at all, Kellen.”

I chuckle, knowing of course I’m going to watch her driveway from my window. Who could help but do so? “I’ll see you around the neighborhood,” I tell her. As I hang up, I think I hear her sigh contentedly.

Sixteen

Kellen

Todd does not show up. I resigned myself to this as soon as Elizabeth reminded me of the expectation. I spent the entire day fretting about it, realizing Orla was absolutely right about my need to put myself out somewhere socially. Who could I even talk to about my nerves for this evening? A date. I haven’t gone on a date with a new woman in 30 years.

Does Elizabeth count as a new woman? I decide that she does, even though I have nobody to confirm my suspicion. I don’t care to discuss these things with my brother. It feels inappropriate to call my daughter or one of my nephews.

So I’m left on my own to agonize over what to wear if we stay in, and whether to change that up if we go out. I even leave work early to pace in front of my closet, eventually deciding on a pair of dark jeans my brother bought me in Europe, paired with today’s dress shirt from work. I move my pacing to the living room around four, when I peer out the window to see Jake pacing in the driveway.

I see Elizabeth talking to him from the steps. I imagine she’s letting him know she loves him. That he can still have a fun weekend. I feel such deep anger for Todd Gaston, a man I haven’t met but would like to strangle. I realize I’m angry on behalf of fathers everywhere. I stand in the picture window with my hands on my hips, looking out until Elizabeth meets my eye from across the street.

She mouths, “Creeper,” and smiles, so I decide to just head on over there.

“Hey, neighbors,” I say, extending my hand to pat Jake on the shoulder, but then catching myself and remembering he might not like that. I’ve always been physically affectionate with Orla and my nephews. They joke about Brady hugs. But I know not everyone appreciates that sort of thing. I wave awkwardly instead. “What are you two doing this evening?”

Elizabeth opens her mouth to say something, but Jake flashes his eyes at me, angry, and says, “It’s Friday. On Fridays I eat pizza and watch Star Wars.”

I nod. “Which episode?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “I’m on Last Jedi. I watch one each week and then go back to the beginning.”

I put my hands in my pockets and raise a brow at him. “Do you loop in Rogue One?”

Jake sinks down on the steps next to his mother, shaking his head. “Obviously not. How could you even ask that?”