Page 9 of Chalk It Up

It seems that my authoritative sister doesn’t go unnoticed by Reid as well. She may command authority but Reid stands to attention like she has him on a voluntary leash. Hmm. Interesting.

Alana strides with heel-clicking confidence to my desk even though she doesn’t need to be wearing those. She’s already around five-foot-ten and could come to work in sweats and Birkenstocks and we’d respect her all the same. But Alana dresses to the nines for everything she does. Pencil skirts, boss-girl blouses, and heels that could kill a man. Reid sits back down like the good dog he is while Alana drops some files on my desk and tosses half of her long, dark brown hair behind her.

“I heard we’re helping the school. I wanted to drop off some figures so you know just how much we have to work with as far as supplies and finances are concerned.”

“Already done, Alana. August and I were just wrapping up on the financials and everything will keep us in the black and then some with the write off.” Reid salutes and Alana barely passes him a glance with those piercing-green Von eyes of hers.

“I trust you to work it all out effectively but I’m here if you need me.” Poor Reid, he might as well be a shadow for all the attention Alana pays him. “Will you need someone to watch Addie while you work on the set?”

“As much as I appreciate the gesture, I know kids are not exactly your forte, so don’t sweat it. I plan on bringing her with me anyway. Work on some life skills, make memories, invest. I’m excited to spend the time with her doing something new.” And I mean that, I have one soft spot in my life and it’s Addie. I guess I might have a soft spot for Alana too.

“They might not be ‘my forte’” she says around an eye roll and air quotes. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love or want to be around my niece any less. If you need help with the set, I’m happy to be there for that as well. Just let me know where you need me and I’ll make it happen.” Alana offers while Reid continues to just ping pong back and forth between us. The chances of me asking Alana to help are slim to none. She is beyond capable. More capable than most when it comes to manual labor, but she never rests and I won’t be the one to add to that.

“Thanks, I’ll keep you posted.” I won’t. She has too much else on her plate. She swishes out of my office, bringing the door closed with her.

“Hey man, let me know if you need help with the set.” Reid pipes up enthusiastically after wiping the drool from his mouth.

“Not going to happen. Your motives seem less than altruistic.” I don’t dislike Reid, but I have two living women in my life that I would freeze hell for and I’m not entirely sure I want Reid near one of them.

“Pot, meet kettle.” He jokes “Didn’t we just meet for almost an hour on how this volunteer effort will boost our image and help our taxes?” Okay yeah we did, but again, I’m here for Addie.

“You can see yourself out of my office now,” I demand while grabbing my equipment for the day. “Some of us actually have work to do.”

A deep inhale of the pines tells me I’m exactly where I need to be. I lock my SUV and shuck off my backpack before pulling out my drone and notebook. I’d use a laptop way out here, but thankfully there’s no internet so it’s just me, nature, silence, and my trusty notepad. Sometimes I worry about being out here with no service for so long in case something happens to Addie, but Ms. Wilma has all of the office numbers. We never go scouting without radios, so that always puts me at ease.

Guiding my drone above a copse of pines, I stare through what little parts of the trees I can see while switching to auto, a mode I made sure was part of this particular drone model. The sky is always so beautiful out here, but I’m realizing the shade of blue I’m currently under is so lackluster. There’s a new shade I’m obsessed with, a deep, dark sapphire flecked with gold. Her eyes are the sun and sky dancing together, absolutely heavenly.

I don’t let my mind dwell on that gorgeous shade of blue for too long. I can’t. I haven’t looked at a woman that way since Larissa. The idea of having a family, a happy wife, a child who has a life that they won’t need to go to therapy over–I’ve let all of that go. All of those are pipe dreams that I was so close to, and it guts me that our life is the opposite of what it was supposed to be. It was just barely out of reach. One reckless night, one lie, one wrong woman. I was off the mark of a perfect life by so many tiny degrees that it hurts my chest.

I think the guilt will follow me forever. I hurt for me, but it kills me everyday for Addie. I hate that she doesn’t have a mom who will braid her hair, take her out for girl days, or help her through her teen years of boys and body changes. I don’t mind doing it alone and I don’t shy away from any of that stuff, but I’m sure having a loving mom is preferential in those times over your dad.

I try to work exceptionally hard on our relationship now, so that when those things do come up, Addie is more than comfortable talking to me. It’ll never be picture-perfect, but I’ll give her my best until my dying breath.

A part of me, deep in my marrow, wants to look at Evangeline in that way. I can’t stop thinking about her. I haven’t been able to really stop looking at her since Open House, if I’m being honest with myself. Even then there was some energy or aura that you couldn’t miss. An inner beauty that spoke to how compassionate of a woman she is.

I know she’s beautiful, and the way that Addie dotes on her paints this picture of everything we missed out on with her mom. But I can’t put Addie and myself in a vulnerable position. I can’t set us up to be disappointed by another woman that I misjudged so severely. I refuse. The harsh reality of it is that I don’t think I’m misjudging her in the slightest. I think she’s truly everything I see in her and more than I could imagine. The prospect of that reality is paralyzing.

But it’s not just letting a woman into our lives. It’s the small town gossip and the idea that she could probably lose her job even if I did pursue her.

My drone drops down beside me and I pack up my equipment, along with my feelings. The only difference is my equipment comes back to my SUV with me and I leave my feelings there. In that copse of pines. Where they’ll always stay.

Once I’ve got all of my equipment stowed and locked away in my office, I do a mental checklist of the ingredients I need to make dinner. Today is typically pizza night which is one of mine and Addie’s favorite. Homemade pizza that we make together and use whichever toppings we want for our own pizzas. She always tells me she feels like a little chef when she’s making hers. Little does she know, she can make way more meals on her own than the average seven year old.

I’m just getting in my car when I realize we don’t have any tomato sauce. I usually make everything from scratch that we use for tonight’s dinner, but I just don’t think I have the mental capacity for it today. I shoot off a quick text to Ms. Wilma letting her know I’m going to be a few minutes late so that I can stop by the store and grab some sauce. Which of course, she has no problem with. She loves spending time with Addie and I’m thankful for it.

I pull into the market that really only carries the essentials, and my objective is simple. Get in, get out, talk to no one. I do a quick scan of the parking lot because in this town, we almost know everyone’s cars and who they belong to. I release a deep breath seeing there probably isn’t anyone here that’s going to want to talk to me about anything.

The sliding doors swoosh and I’m hit with a blast of stale air from above me. When Addie was younger, she would act like it was some kind of revolving door and continually go in and out just to feel the air hit her face. Those are the simple kind of everyday memories that I hope I remember forever. Our market is small, but besides the stale air that smacks you when you walk in, the rest of the store smells like the old wood it’s made of, and being someone in the timber industry I deeply appreciate it.

There are very few people here tonight and everyone seems set on their own shopping missions. Most of the time you’ll find people shooting the breeze together like the market is some kind of social hub for sharing the latest news and gossip.

I b-line it directly to the sauce, grab a couple of jars just so I have enough on hand for next time, and successfully make it to the self-checkout without incident. The doors swish open and I walk back into the cool, mountain air, and I instantly feel refreshed. That is until the crisp air is sucked straight out of my lungs by an argument I see unfolding in the parking lot.

There’s a man and woman in a heated disagreement, arms gesticulating and stances firm, mostly coming from the man. The woman I’d recognize in any crowded area. Picking her out of a Where’s Waldo? book wouldn’t even be a struggle. It’s Evangeline.

My feet are moving before I can even think better of it. I can easily say this is none of my business, that it doesn’t involve me, but no man should even come close to talking to a woman the way he’s talking to Evangeline. And basic decency aside, I’m irrationally overcome with an innate need to defend and protect this woman in particular.

I’ve crossed the lot faster than I thought possible, both of them so engrossed in the argument that they don’t see me coming.