Page 23 of Retrofit Analysis

She slides a hand across the table and grips mine. I stare down at our entwined fingers. “That’s an understatement, Beth.” She squeezes my hand. And then, like water over a dam, I just start talking to her. “It’s been so damn long since I had these kinds of feelings, since I had this kind of wondering about a new person. I…” I look over at her and she’s smiling.

Not a pitying type of smile, but a happy one. “You make me feel really alive,” I say, finally.

“That’s a really nice compliment, Kellen.” She leans around the table and kisses my cheek. She makes to lean back into her seat, but I snake an arm out and around her shoulders, pulling her closer. I let go of the coffee mug and cup her chin, tipping her beautiful face up toward mine so I can kiss her mouth. And then I keep on going. Yep, definitely alive.

I lose control of my faculties and am about to pull her into my lap, when she draws back. “I need to talk about…this.” She gestures between us.

My mouth snaps shut. As if she is reading my thoughts, she shakes her head. “No, I mean, yes. I want to do this. I want to be physical with you, Kellen. God, I want to do that.” She blushes again, then swallows. “But there are some mechanical obstacles. Logistics?” She shakes her head. “This is coming out wrong.”

“You can tell me,” I assure her. “I’m not going anywhere.” To emphasize my point, I put my sore foot up on another chair in her dining room. “I’m literally not going anywhere until I take some more ibuprofen.”

That gets a smile from her. “What I am trying to say is it’s been so long since I was intimate with anyone, and well, you know how old I am. We need to go slow is all.” Her eyes widen, a hopeful look on her face. “Really slow. With…penetration stuff.”

Understanding dawns on me. I tingle with embarrassment because I had not taken the time to consider what changes women must experience in that department. I’m briefly struck by the thought that Helen never even got the chance to worry about that, but I push that aside and reach for Elizabeth’s hands. “I’m good with that,” I tell her. “I just like being near you. I like how I feel when I’m with you, Beth.”

She bites her lower lip. “Same, Kellen Brady.” I hear a stirring down the hall, the telltale signs of a teenager reluctantly getting out of bed.

I don’t know if it would be upsetting for Jake to come out and find me here, whether that would be so unexpected it would set him off. I stand. “Have dinner with me tonight again,” I say. “I’ll order in, or if there’s somewhere Jake likes we can go out.”

She stares down the hall, where we can hear him grumbling as he slams drawers open and closed. “Maybe Jake wants to visit my parents for a bit this evening,” she says. Then she grins at me. “That way we could…”

I nod. “I’d like that very much,” I tell her. I bend down to kiss her cheek and snatch the empty coffee mug from her hands. “My lady,” I say, saluting with the mug. “See you around…” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to fill in the time.

She sighs. “My parents eat at like 430,” she says. “They’re ridiculous. I’ll try to have Jake over there by then, so…” she drifts off. “Maybe we can do something before dinner, too?”

“We’re becoming a pair of regular early bird specials,” I say. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

I emerge from her house to find Callum in the driveway, sweaty from a run, sliding underneath his Bronco. “Over for an early visit with your neighbor?” He stares at the two mugs in my hand, like he’s hoping to read more into that situation but can’t quite find a way to insinuate something untoward.

“You mind your business, young man,” I tell him. I squat next to the vehicle and peer underneath. “What have we got going on today?”

Nineteen

Elizabeth

I realize that all the things I bought online will of course not be arriving today in time for my date with Kellen in eight hours. I groan, realizing I’m going to have to go shopping again. I know I just told him we have to take things slowly and there’s no earthly reason to suspect he might be anywhere near my underwear, but the thought of going on a date in my current sagging stash of lingerie makes me shudder.

Somewhere in the past decade, I slipped into my mother’s worst nightmare: I have nothing but gray, threadbare bras and panties with withered seams. “Jake,” I shout down the hall. “Do you need anything at the mall, babe? I need to buy some things.”

“Ugh, I hate shopping,” he groans. “I’m supposed to be online today with Mitchell.”

“I didn’t say you had to come along. I asked if you need anything.”

By the time I get out of the house with his list I’m confident the stores will at least be open. I decide that purchasing these things has very little to do with Kellen, actually. Even if he doesn’t end up seeing the pretty lace underthings, I am buying them as an act of self care. I care enough about myself to buy bras without the wires bursting through the fabric, to buy underwear that wouldn’t bring me shame if the paramedics ever had to cut them off my unconscious body.

While I’m in the department store searching for the undershirts Jake likes, with no tags or raised seams, I decide to splurge on a long dress for myself and a bra/panty set for tonight.

The dress, a flowing black maxi with an asymmetrical neckline, covers the walking boot. The new bra hoists up my bust so I can barely tell that it sags practically to my navel. I stare at myself in the full length mirror for a long time, accepting that I don’t look a thing like the frumpy, flustered mom I’ve felt for the past decade plus.

“I look so good,” I say out loud, realizing that I’m still Jake’s mom, and so much more. I’m the woman who stood up for herself, the advocate who stands up for her son. “And I’m the woman going out on a date with a sexy man tonight,” I mutter, bagging everything up and heading to the checkout.

My parents are delighted at the opportunity to have Jake over to their house, and Dad even pipes in that he’s going to drive the two of them over to some sort of event at the board game store. “That sounds perfect, Dad,” I tell him. I expected Jake to resist when I told him he’s going to his grandparents’ house, but he surprised me by asking if he can go down there immediately rather than wait until 4pm.

“Well, I can’t see why not,” I start to say, staring at him. This isn’t the sort of day I’m used to having, where an attractive, kind man brings me coffee, asks me to dinner, childcare appears, and my usually-rigid son rolls with the punches. I feel myself holding my breath, waiting for the catch. We are not “loose plans” people. As I return from my unplanned errand, my body waits for the meltdown or the call from someone that will throw everything into a tailspin.

I’m so used to planning for the worst and feeling relief at any scrap of a nice time. It actually feels a bit unsettling to arrive home to a pleasant kid, a house that’s not on fire, no trace of a meltdown in sight.

Instead, Jake tells me, “I want to use Granddad’s account to get another copy of the Roblox promo skin.”