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GIBSON
“Ican’t thank you enough, Bridge,” I say as she steps into the room with another one of my boxes. “I’m trying to understand the old kook known as my eclectic ex-landlord. But one week to vacate the house? And it’s all because his son has decided to quit his job and meditate for the next six months to become one with nature. I mean, really. I thought I was being set up. It seems like a joke your husband would play on me. Am I right?”
This has her dropping the box to the floor, doubling over in hysterics. “You’re right. It sounds like something Simon would do.” She slides the box from the top of the stairs over toward me. “You may not be thanking me for long when one of the twins wakes up in the middle of the night, thus waking the whole house, including you.”
“A couple months, tops. I promise.” I’ve told her this time and time again, but she insists I stay as long as I’d like.
I’d been ready to settle down a year ago, when the woman I’d thought I’d grow old with decided I wasn’t the one she wanted to grow old with. In the end, when I packed up from the house we’d shared together, I didn’t miss her. I had been willing to give up so much for her, my desires in the bedroom being one of them.
I moved cities at the end of the school year, got a rental, and planned to buy here. But given I’ve lived in my rental less than two months, I’d only been given a week to find something, and it had been too soon.
“It’s no problem. It will be like old times when our families would rent a vacation house.” We grew up together, both sets of our parents the best of friends. “How’s school going? How’s the class?”
I laugh. I’ve been handed quite the first week, with unexpected and unforeseen events in my classroom that honestly should be scripted for a sitcom. “It’s been interesting. I mean, teaching kindergarteners is really truly different than the fifth graders I’ve been used to before.”
When I applied, there was a third grade position open. At first, I’d been hired for that particular need, but when a teacher didn’t come back from maternity leave, they were desperate to fill it, more than my third grade slot. I’d gotten a merit increase, which was needed since I also basically went from a double income with my ex, Marcie, helping toward our rent and utilities.
“Kindergarteners are cute,” she adds, sitting on one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner of the room.
“Cute, that’s one word for them.” I’ve been teaching for over ten years, all in the upper elementary grades. But Bridget isn’t wrong. They are so cute that even in the hardest of days, like tall buildings being compared to someone’s morning erection, and with my gruff mood over the sudden move, I relish my kids.
“Ah, you love it, and you know it, Gibson Smith. I can see it in that particular little smile, where your eyes glimmer. You like it more than you’ll admit.”
“Yeah, you’ll never get it out of me.” I push to my feet, pulling for a lightweight jacket. It’s still technically summer, but it’s been getting a bit cold at night.
“Where are you going? Want to stay for supper? You’re welcome.” Bridget is behind me as we both descend the steps.
“I have more stuff to move into my storage unit.” I’ll admit the one good thing about moving, after said girlfriend left me, was I didn’t have much to move. Or was it more, I didn’t have much I wanted to move. A bed, a small love seat, a four-person eat-in kitchen, and a few pictures along with limited kitchen crap made this sudden move almost bearable.
“So, are you joining us for dinner?”
I love Bridget’s family. I really do. Brandon is a great kid, and her twins are cute and funny. Simon is a good guy and takes great care of Bridget. But, being immersed into this immediate family isn’t something I’m ready for, yet. “Nah, I need to get some shopping done.”
Bridget and Simon moved a small dorm fridge to the studio apartment over their house for me. I don’t cook often, and not having a dedicated kitchen isn’t a huge problem.
“You know, you can store stuff in the fridge downstairs if need be, and our kitchen is your kitchen.”
Bridget would give the skin off her back to someone she cared for. This is no different.
“Yeah, I know. But I think I’ll head out for the night. Don’t wait up for me.” I give her a wink, leaving her home.
* * *
Why the hellam I shopping first, when I want to stop by and get a bite to eat? And I don’t want to go back to the lonely apartment. Not that I was all that keen with my space at my rental. Or that I even miss Marcie all that much.
I guess it’s because Bridget has her forever. And when I see the two together, the chemistry and love they share eats away at my heart. I want that. And maybe Marcie cheating on me hadn’t been a bad thing. I didn’t think that at the time, but after a month, I realized I’d been settling with her.
Since I’m here at the store and have my sights set on the little bar with the best chicken wings down the street, I’ll just stock up on nonperishables.
I turn the corner from the spices to the canned goods, colliding with another shopper.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Terribly sorry,” I begin, moving away from his grocery cart.
“Ah, I should have been watching myself a little better.” He tips his head to me, and I’m met with the same familiar eyes from just a day ago. “Mr. Smith,” he says, the corners of his lips curling into a broad, and may I add, beautiful grin.
“Dr. O’…” Shit, I’m so bad with names.
“Dr. O’Leary.” He helps me, adding in the rest of his name, as I attempt to burn it to my memory.
