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Jenna
My beloved sloth slippers—which I refer to lovingly as my Slothies—are staring at me from their perch on the toilet as I sit in my bubble bath. I don’t appreciate that they’re giving me a serious stink eye. Sure, I know they can’tactuallygive me a stink eye because their cute faces are stitched into perpetually happy smiles, but they don’t look like they’re on my side right now.
I realize I shouldn’t be so offended by a supposed look from sloth slippers, but I know why they’re looking at me like that, and it makes me a little uncomfortable. Which is sad, because I should be enjoying this bubble bath. I generally take showers during the week because it’s easier and I can wash my hair at the same time, but Saturdays are the one day of the week that I indulge in a little self-care. After the kids are asleep, I always run myself an extra hot bubble bath, light a couple candles, play my favorite playlist, and soak until my fingers are raisins and the water is getting cold. It puts me in a daze for the rest of the evening, but it’s a happy sort of daze.
Tonight, however, my response to Seth from earlier has me feeling squirmish. Before anyone jumps to some crazy conclusion, I didn’t ask why in the heck he thoughtIcould help him and tell him no right out of the gate.
The thing is, I didn’t say anything. At first, I was absolutely shocked because I don’t know the first thing about renovating. I mean, yes, I love watching shows about it, but I’m comparable to an ant who didn’t inherit the building genes. I can lift a decent load—perks to being a mom—but as far as actual renovating? I am completely not prepared for that. If I had my own HGTV show it would be calledFix or Flop,and I doubt they’d leave it on the air very long.
Once the initial shock wore off, I was going to at least say something—even “can I think about it?”—when my neighbors, Alice and Jack, came into the backyard with Alice’s new sno cone maker and that was suddenly the only thing that mattered in my kids’ eyes. Never mind how I spaced off that we had it planned for three o’ clock to make the sno cones.
The point is that Seth left with the reason of Jess needing something, and I never said anything about his project before he did. The project he clearly feels very strongly about, for understandable reasons. Ones he might not realize I can feel on a very deep level, because I haven’t shared all that much about my past with him.
That, my friends, is why my Slothies are staring at me like the stinkbug I am.
I try to ignore them as I finish up my bath, dry off, and lather my legs with tropical mimosa lotion. I don’t splurge on a lot of things for myself, but this lotion is one of my guilty pleasures. It not only smells like I stepped off a tropical island (which I definitely didn’t) but it makes my legs nice and smooth. I don’t think I’ve ever used it and felt worse about myself, so that’s a positive. I then put on my comfy pink pajama shorts and a slightly oversizedWinnie the PoohT-shirt, but my conscience—nor my slippers—won’t allow me to crawl under my covers after the tub’s clean and I brush my teeth.
My phone is already turned off—sorry, brain, but I can’t text Seth now—but I go downstairs to eat another snack as a distraction. I slather some crackers with butter and blueberry jelly and wash it down with a piece of hazelnut milk chocolate. It is Saturday, after all. My phone stares at me from its charging port the whole time, but I’m proud of myself for ignoring it.
I go back upstairs, brush my teeth, and pull a book from the shelf to try and read in bed. It’s no use. The only words I read arewill you help us renovate a house?over and over again. I groan and set the book aside, turn off my lamp, and burrow under my covers in hopes I’ll magically fall asleep.
WRONG.
I don’t magically fall asleep. I huff and shove my comforter aside, then put on my Slothies and stomp as quietly as I can back down to the kitchen. From a non-single-mom standpoint, it’s early for Saturday. Most people are probably just getting their night started, considering it’s just quarter to ten. I keep that in mind as I turn on my phone and send a text to Seth before I can talk myself out of it.
Jenna: Do you have a few minutes to talk?
I don’t expect him to respond instantaneously, so I’m halfway to the pantry for a third nighttime snack when my phone vibrates dramatically on the countertop. I abruptly forget the idea of eating more food as I lunge back across the kitchen. It’s a bad idea and I should’ve walked like a normal person because my shin smacks one of the drawer handles. I’m a mom with two sleeping children, so of course I don’t scream like my instincts tell me to do, but Iknowthere’s going to be a very lovely bruise there tomorrow if the throbbing is any indication.
But as soon as I pick up my phone and look at Seth’s response, I’m suddenly breathless for a whole different reason.
Seth: I have to go into the station and I’m just about to leave my house. If you’re okay with it, I can just stop by.
Maybe I should’ve added “on the phone” to my original message, but it’s a little too late for that, I think, so I respond that that’ll work before running back upstairs to change my shirt. I leave the shorts and slippers, though, because I’m too lazy after my bath to worry about them. And also because I hear Seth’s vehicle pull into the driveway. My bedroom window, which is cracked open slightly to let a little fresh air in, faces the street. Thankfully we live in a quiet neighborhood, otherwise it might be a problem. Ever since I became a mom—especially a single one—I haven’t slept nearly as deeply. One of the kids whimpers? It goes through the (definitely not) paper thin walls of my house and straight into my ear canal as if someone blared an air horn beside my head. I’ve yet to determine if I consider my super-hearing a blessing or a curse.
By the time I get to the front door I’ve managed to calm myself down, and I even have a smile ready when I open it to reveal a fully uniformed Seth. My smile slips a little as I swallow. I thought maybe he was just going into the station to get a notebook or his Taser or something, but it’s not like I’m affected by this turn of events or anything. I’ve seen Seth plenty of times in his uniform, and this is just one more time to add to that list.
I don’t actually keep a list, though.
Never mind that he and I are the only ones awake in my house right now. I try not to dwell on that as I welcome him in like a normal person and we go into my kitchen. I think he notices my Slothies, but he doesn’t say anything about them as I casually put the island between us. I honestly have a decently sized kitchen, but with Seth in here it feels like it was built for a mouse. My Slothies might actually take away from my very average height of five-four, whereas Seth’s heavy duty black boots that probably have steel toesaddto his. I’m painfully aware of how small I am right now, and how in control Seth is, and it’s just a little bit scary to me. Not because I’m concerned about him trying to take advantage of any situation, but because Seth can see past any defenses I might build and that terrifies me. Pete was too focused on his career or his image ninety-five percent of the time to worry aboutusor me.
And even though there’s nousbetween Seth and I, it scares me that these past three minutes in Seth’s presence feels more grounding than basically the entirety of my five years of marriage to Pete.
Thisis why I haven’t opened up to Seth about much of anything. I’m afraid that, if I allow myself to confide in him fully, I won’t have any reasons to keep him at arms’ distance.
“I wanted to apologize for not giving you an answer earlier,” I say after deciding it’s best to just cut to the chase. Small talk is one of my least favorite things, followed closely by canned peas and anything related to drugs. Two very different things, I know, but I just don’t like canned peas. They disgust me. Which is pretty much how I feel about drugs too, so they might not be all that different after all. “I, um… I guess your question shocked me a little.”
Seth doesn’t act like this surprises him, nor does his careful expression slip. He simply gestures to the barstools lining my island, waits for me to go all the way around to sit, and then lowers onto the oneright besidemine. We’re so close that the rough material of his slacks brushes my knee, and I hope he didn’t hear my little intake of air. More commonly known as a gasp, but that sounds a little too dramatic for my liking.
“I figured it would.” His words are even, perfectly measured, and he glances down at his hands.
My gaze inadvertently follows like it’s a stray puppy looking for food, and I take note of just how masculine Seth’s hands really are. They’re not giant or anything, but they’re still so…strong. Manly. Everything about Seth screamsstrength, and maybe that’s the real reason I try so hard not to let him in close. I’m scared that if I allow myself to depend on him just a little bit, I’ll realize how feeble my own strength is.
“Believe me, I was shocked when Leo asked me in the first place,” he continues. “But there’s something about these kids… After I left here earlier, I was looking through some of my past reports, and there are four different kids I would really like to recruit for this project. They’re from different walks of life with vastly different family dynamics, but they all have one thing in common: they’re hurting. Not just because of outside circumstances, either. When our inner selves are in battle mode, everything around us looks like a warzone. Each of these four kids has had some run in with the law, and I’ve been able to dismiss it. But now that I’ve had time to think, this project could be a good way for some indirect community service.”
I don’t really want to convict anyone tonight, especially not Seth, but my mind won’t let this question go. “Are you in battle mode?”
It’s times like this that I wish Seth had reactions like a normal human being. I, for instance, can’t tell a lie without bursting out laughing and if I get offended by something, I either start crying or try to redirect my hurt at the offender. I cannot fathom being able to keep a neutral expression like Seth is right now as he studies me carefully. I feel like part of that comes from his line of work, but also from his childhood experiences.
