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He laughs, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. A motorcycle sits in my driveway, his bike, I presume.
"It's alright," He whispers, his voice so low I can barely hear him. "I know this is unexpected. I was just wondering if maybe we could talk."
Talk? Talk about what? I wonder, Ellie's voice drawing my attention from this ghost of boyfriends past.
I glance back, knowing that Ellie is well-behaved, but I don't want her messing with the stove.
"Actually, Ellie and I are making breakfast, so it's not really a good time."
"Mama, who is it?" She bounces in the room, her hands covered in flour. She stops in her tracks, her eyes fixating on Jameson.
I blow out a deep breath, I don't really want Jameson here around Ellie, but I also want to get this talk over with. He's back in town, and I'm sure we will run into each other. It doesn't need to be awkward.
"Honey, you remember Uncle Judson's brother, Jameson? Well, he used to be mommy's friend. He's going to eat breakfast with us. Would that be okay?"
She doesn't speak to him but offers up a shy smile and pulls me back into the kitchen by my hand. I help Ellie pop the pan of biscuits into the oven, take the bacon out of the cast iron skillet, and get it ready for the gravy.
"So," I start, my terrible attempt at small-talk, "When did you move back here?"
"A few weeks ago, we were busy training, so I haven't had the opportunity to get out much."
"Oh…" I try and think of something more to say as I pour the flour into the grease.
"Judson said you were teaching at the high school."
I wonder what else Judson had to say, I think to myself. My eyes falling down to Ellie, who is bent down, staring through the window of the oven, watching the biscuits brown.
"Yeah, I'm the guidance counselor."
"Mama helps kids pick what college to go to," Ellie speaks up in her little know-it-all voice.
"Among other things," I add.
"That's great, Han."
The way he says my name sends a chill down my spine. His voice doesn't sound exactly like it did nearly six years ago but still takes me back there. Instead of remembering any good times, though, all I can remember is slamming doors and tears. Funny how that works.
We sit at the table for breakfast, his eyes falling to Ellie.
"So Jameson, did you used to kiss my mommy?"
I nearly drop the biscuits onto the table as Jameson tries to stifle a laugh.
"Uh…" he stops, looking to me for help, "I don't kiss and tell."
"Mama?" She questions, and I just change the subject, pointing to her plate with my fork, "Ellie, eat your food."
She takes a huge bite and starts talking, "Mama kisses Eric now. It's so gross." Jameson's knuckles turn white as he grips his glass of sweet tea, "I go to school tomorrow. I get to be in Kindergarten!"
"Ellison, please don't talk with your mouth full. Swallow and then talk."
She giggles, Jameson responding quickly, "That should be fun. How old are you anyway?"
My heart sinks. He's curious. Is that why he's here because of Ellie?
"I'm five, but I'm way smarter than a five-year-old. Mama says so all the time."
"I'll bet you are," he laughs, pushing his food around his plate.
