Page 84 of Living at 40

Logan sighs. “It’s only a concept. We don’t have a plan. And it involves a financial investment that I can’t give right now.” The doubt in Logan’s voice quietly warns me not to push the idea. However, other thoughts occur. Ones involving him moving here. We could live together. He could move in with me. He could save money that way, and I could . . . what? What would I do for him? We’ve just committed to dating, but what more does he want? I know that I don’t want to lose him, and an honest fear creeps in, considering Ben’s current condition.

Tugging Logan tighter once more, I wish for things I shouldn’t wish for.

33

[Autumn]

As Labor Day weekend drew to an end, it brought another heartfelt goodbye between Logan and me, but this one was without tears. I would be seeing Logan in a week as I planned to visit him in Indianapolis. I suggested I get a hotel room as I didn’t want things to be weird with Lorna. Logan only has a two-bedroom townhome, but he assured me he’d talk to Lorna. He wants me with him at his house. We won’t be able to have sex all over the place as I’d hoped, but I am just as happy to spend time with them, learning more about Lorna.

“I hate middle school.” Those words start the next weekend as we pick Lorna up from school. Logan wants to show me around the city, and then we’ll be heading to dinner—the three of us. As the SUV door slams, I glance at Logan, who shifts in his seat to peer at his daughter.

“What happened?”

Lorna’s crossed arms and red face tell me it’s bad. She stares out the window and doesn’t answer her father. He glances over at me, and I shrug but also shake my head. I remember these days, and it might be best to let her stew. Maybe it’s more than middle school. Maybe it’s me being here or her mom in France. She has a lot going on, and middle school can be the worst years.

We take an awkwardly quiet tour of Indianapolis before Logan parks by the barbecue place he ordered from when I first visited. Once inside, Lorna and I take a seat while Logan places our order at the counter and waits for our drinks.

“Is it me?” I ask, hating how much I feel like a middle schooler asking Lorna, but I want to be cognizant of her feelings. She has a lot happening in her young life.

“Lucas DeFranco called me fat.” Lorna focuses on the tablecloth before her, and her lids blink rapidly. I slide my hand across the table and cover hers with mine.

“Boys can be jerks,” I tell her, understanding exactly how she feels. “Extra stupid jerks when they don’t see the lovely girl before them.”

“Bryce isn’t like that.”

“My nephew?” Oh boy.

Lorna nods. “Why can’t the boys in middle school be like him?”

“Well, first, Bryce is a little older, and now, he’s officially in high school.” Not that a few years gives him more maturity, but a few more years of experience does give Bryce a better sense of how to treat others. I’d like to think my nephew knows how to be respectful and not judgmental.

“Bethany Simone laughed when he said it.”

Oh, man. Sometimes girls are meaner than boys. “You know, I was once like you.”

Her head pops up. “I was a little bigger than my friends. Everyone was petite with small bones and tiny bodies that fit skinny pants. I hated them, but not really.” I recall some of my girlfriends from younger years and my feelings toward them.

“I was athletic and solid, my mother liked to say, but I didn’t find it a compliment. In high school, someone once told me boys like big butts, but I didn’t want a boy to like my butt.” I wrinkle my nose, and Lorna slowly smiles. “I had the biggest crush on an older boy too because he was always nice to me, but he thought I was just a kid.”

Lorna’s face falls. I’m not trying to sting her, but Bryce isn’t going to look at Lorna yet because of their age difference. In a few years, it won’t matter, but presently, it’s everything.

“I held on to the idea of that boy, though. He didn’t see me as fat. He teased me, but it was always good-natured because he was a sweet guy.” I smile larger.

“What happened to him?” Lorna asks, and I lean forward.

“He’s your dad.” I wink at her, and her mouth falls open.

Lorna smiles wider, but then her face falls. “But you aren’t . . .” Her eyes roam my body. “Fat.”

“I’m healthy,” I say as I pat my stomach. “I learned to eat better, and I exercised more, but you’re already exercising with soccer, and you eat well because of your dad’s needs. It takes time for your body to change, and it’s already gone through one big change this summer.” I smile, recalling her first period last weekend.

“That doesn’t help me now,” she wisely states.

“I know. Some days you need to grin and bear it. But you also need to ignore those negative comments because one day, those kids won’t matter. That’s not easy to hear now, but it’s the truth.”

Lorna sighs. “I wish we could move.”

Blinking at her, I pull my hand back. “Move? Honey, you can’t run from your problems like that.”