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I sputtered, tugging my stethoscope from around my neck and placing it on the desk. “You have four kids and a man that loves you dearly. Why are you so interested in other men?”
“Not for me, sweetheart, for you.” She pointed her finger at me like Uncle Sam, then grinned.
I held up my hands, leaned back in the creaky office chair. “Oh, I’ve had a man. I’m good.” I’d settle for no guy than to have Jack back in my life. But then my thoughts veered to Gray. I sighed.
She pursed her lips and clucked at me. “From what you've told me, Jack was an asshole. I never met the guy, mind you, but I know that’s a fact.”
I thought about my ex-husband. He really was an asshole. “Yeah, but I got Chris out of it. Jack can’t take that away from me.” Especially now that our son was eighteen. Sure, he’d grumbled about getting custody and moving him to California to live with him when we'd first gotten divorced four years ago, but he wouldn’t have gone through with it. He just hadn't wanted to pay me child support. Besides, he and Paralegal Sue couldn’t be bothered by a teenager since they both acted like them.
“Damn straight. Heard from him?” I knew she meant Chris, not Jack, since her tone softened. Her youngest two were still in high school, but her daughter was in her last year at the University of Maryland and her oldest was in the army stationed in Germany. She knew how hard it was to have a child leave the nest.
I sighed. “Last week. I told him to settle in and not worry about me. It’s a big adjustment for him and the first year is extra tough. He did say he's on the soccer team and that Advanced Calculus is, I quote, 'going to kick my ass.'”
She laughed and gave my arm a squeeze. “Girlfriend, you raised a fine boy.”
I did, and I was totally biased, but now what? What was next for me?
***
An hour later, I was climbing the front steps of my row house when my neighbor, Simon, popped his head out his door. “How was it?”
Simon was a few years younger than me, an architect and gay. We’d hit it off since the day he moved in three years ago. He was from Tennessee and his accent was thick like syrup. He was tall and lanky, with blond hair cut in a very crisp, very conservative style; short on the sides and longer on the top. He wore chunky glasses and stylish clothes. Although I’d picked my own dress for the party last night, he’d forced me back into my closet and into the heeled sandals instead of the ballet flats I’d originally chosen. He was bossy, opinionated and had a sense for fashion I never would. He’d also been a great guy role model for Chris when his father had pretty much abandoned him, and had a surprising knack for getting through to a cranky teenager in ways a mother never could. I still had no idea some of the things those two had talked about, but it didn't matter. As Faith said, Chris had turned out just fine.
“It was good.” I dropped my shoulder bag beside the door, then leaned against it as I took off my work clogs. Lifting the metal lid on the vintage milk box, I dropped them inside. They remained there until I went to work next, not wanting to take any of the funk I walked through at the clinic or hospital into my house. The sun was intense and I was sweaty and ready for another shower. Even though I’d had one after my workout this morning, I always took one after being at work or the clinic. “Christy rocked her dress.”
We stood ten feet apart, each on the short set of steps up to our front doors. The entire block was one long row of houses connected, all red brick with white stone steps. Built at the turn of the century, they were ridiculously narrow, but with the basement, were four floors. My parents had bought it back in the late sixties and I'd grown up in it. When I married Jack, I'd moved with him to the suburbs, but returned after the divorce. I even slept in the bedroom I had when I was a kid, but my mom and I had ripped off the old eighties teenage wallpaper and painted it a pale gray the first week back. A year later, they retired and moved to Florida and Chris and I had stayed.
“Of course she did,” Simon replied. He was casual in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeve button-down shirt. “How did the shoes work out?”
He had to gloat. I had to roll my eyes.
“I hooked an auditor named Bob or Bill.”
“Which was it?” Looking downright gleeful, he added, “Was he any good?”
I tilted my head down and gave him the stern look I used on Chris when he was a pain-in-the-ass teenager. “Any good? I didn’t catch his name and there was no way I’d sleep with that guy. He was…dry and was a little obsessed with oysters.”
“Oysters?” Simon cringed. “Yeah, no good. You’re too normal and you hate oysters. You need someone who’s different. Who catches you by surprise. Someone you wouldn’t expect.”
“Me, normal?” I asked, faking insult as I picked up my bag. I knew what he meant. I was plain old Emory. I worked, I worked out. I volunteered. And up until a few months ago, I was a high school parent. I was…dull. Divorced and dull. I needed some excitement and Bob/Bill wasn’t going to cut it. But Gray just might. Just thinking about him was giving me a hot flash. I could only imagine what would happen to me if he actually touched me. Or kissed me. Or got me beneath him.
Did I want to continue just to be normal? I wanted to feel like I had last night when I was talking with Gray. Again and again. That was not normal. He'd invited me to his rugby game. He wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t meant it. So what was stopping me? My embarrassment from last night? Fear? Nerves?
Simon gave a little wave and started to go back inside. I called to him. “Yeah?” he asked, sticking his head out the door.
I fiddled with the strap on my bag as I considered. Screw it. Screw normal. I was going to go see Gray. “Will you go with me to Rifkin Park tomorrow to watch a rugby game?”
I’d definitely confused him. He stepped back out onto his stoop. A car drove by, music blaring from the open windows. “Explain.” He gave the circular hand gesture to keep going.
I ran my toe over the worn stone tread hot beneath my feet from the sun. “There was this other guy last night. I made a complete fool of myself.” I shook my head at my own stupidity. “Not going to say what I did. You can probably imagine.”
He looked at me for a moment, his expression serious. He must have seen something different in me because he didn’t poke fun as he normally would. Thankfully, because that wasn't what I needed right now.
“Yeah, okay. I won’t ask.”
“He asked me to come watch him play rugby tomorrow at eleven. I want to go, but I’m nervous to go by myself. He makes me nervous.”
“This is so seventh grade.” A big grin split Simon’s face. “A guy that makes you nervous? I’m in. I’ll totally be your wingman.”
