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“Meet you at home?” I suggest. Only time will tell if the guy is a jerk. I’ll be there to support Carl either way.
“Sure.” We each get into our cars and he follows me out of the parking lot.
It’s Wednesday. A week since my last hit of happiness with Angel. One day shy of my favorite routine lately. Not that I don’t still love my time with Carl, but Angel fulfills different needs. One more night alone before I get to taste the sweetest lips.
Angel will be busy with the kids right now, but I want to pull out my phone to confirm tomorrow. I bet Owen is bouncing off the walls, anticipating the upcoming holiday. Does he love the snow as much as Carl, or are ten-year-olds too grown up for playing outside now?
I slow as I drive past the Apple store on Main Street. Their display for the latest tech sits in the window, covered in holiday deals. Red and green balloons float above it to draw the eye.
The ad reminds me I haven’t been able to text or talk with Angel since their visit last week. They’ve been without a phone for the better part of the past month because Meg lost hers somehow and needed a replacement Angel couldn’t afford to buy.
That makes me wonder if Angel can afford the jump in heating costs the colder weather is bringing. Is there going to be much under the tree for Owen to anticipate? Or Meg? Not for the first time, I consider how easy it would be for me to just go buy them each the latest iPhone.
I can imagine Meg’s smile—the mirror image of Angel’s gorgeous grin—upon opening up that box. I’d have to get something for Owen to keep things fair. He’d flip for the latest gaming console if he’s anything like I was at that age. And maybe whatever fighting game is popular these days. He likes his martial arts classes, so that seems like a solid bet.
Not that I’ve spent much time with the kids. I’ve made it a point not to know Angel’s children well. No collateral damage when this thing between us inevitably ends. No offering Angel more than friendship with a side of orgasms. But friends buy gifts for their friend’s kids, don’t they?
I’ve been getting gifts for Carl’s niece for years. She still calls me her uncle, even though we’ve been divorced longer than she’s been alive. Admittedly, not expensive electronics, though.
I resist the temptation to call Angel and ask for their permission. Except I know how that call will go, if Meg even answers, because I keep forgetting that they gave their phone to their kid. Said kid sent me a puking emoji when I texted to ask Angel if they were up the other night. Thank fuck I sent that mostly innocuous question instead of jumping right into text sex. Except I never jump right in with Angel since they prefer a heads up in case the kids are around.
Even if I could get in touch, Angel would only be upset at me for acknowledging the difference in our financial positions. They’d be doing better if their ex paid his child support. But it would definitely cross every line in the book—both professional and personal—to go after the asshole for that. It’s still a tempting thought.
Angel won’t accept a brand new set of phones. So I need to get creative. I bet if I happen to have a useless spare after I upgrade devices, they won’t be too proud to refuse me gifting it to their kid. Especially if I’m underhanded enough to mention the offer via a text Meg will have to pass on to her pop.
Never mind that my current device is barely six months old and perfectly adequate for my needs. I only wish I’d splurged on something fancier back then. They’re going to be mad, but I don’t care enough to sway me. I want to be able to text Angel without it going through their teenager again. And I want Meg to get the gift she wants without breaking Angel’s budget.
I’m pulling into a free spot in front of the store before I’ve consciously made the decision. I message Carl that I’ll meet him at home in a few minutes. It doesn’t take long for the helpful customer service agent to set up my new phone with my old number. She resets the old one to its factory default—ready for Meg’s SIM card—for a small extra fee. I even get a festive bag to put my old phone in for presenting it to Angel.
I’m whistling and rather pleased with myself as I leave the store, imagining the joy on Meg’s face and Angel’s reluctant relief upon receiving it. This is not the sort of gesture Carl would have appreciated when we were together, but I enjoy taking care of people in tangible ways like this. There’s nothing really romantic about it. Just a practical need met because I can be there for someone I care about.
I text Angel that I got an upgrade, so I have a spare phone for them to give to their kid tomorrow.
Meg texts me back.
Angel:LOL Still Meg. You keep forgetting I have Pop’s phone.
Saint:Oops. Sorry about that. Tell your Pop for me?
Angel:Not ur msgr :P but fine w/e
I take a second to decipher that means whatever, though the eye roll emoji that follows it clarifies Meg’s opinion of me texting her. Teenagers.
Angel:Thx
I glance at my old phone and smile at the thought of Meg texting all her friends. She can tell them all about how her pop’s boring old-dude friend is a massive chump for giving her a phone. I’m okay with that. Better to be a benevolent annoyance than yet another adult who lets her down.
I park beside Carl in our shared driveway and knock on his door. He greets me with a tumbler full of some sort of gingerbread spiced protein shake that he concocted. He knows how much I love ginger baked goods around the holidays. I always tease him about how he’s still my favorite ginger, with his auburn hair. He seems stressed.
“There you are! What took you so long? I have to leave soon.” Carl glances at the gift bag I brought inside with me.
“Had a sudden need to upgrade my phone. When is your date?” I glance at the time as I sip my drink. Mm. He’s a whiz with a blender. There’s the barest hint of lemon under the warm earthy spices that hides the chalky flavor of the protein powder.
“I’ve got an hour to get ready and drive to the restaurant.”
“Okay, relax, babe. You’ve got plenty of time. Let’s see what we’re working with.” I gesture for him to go up the stairs and he leads the way to his bedroom. I sip more of the drink as we go.
“So, I was thinking chinos and maybe a sweater?” Carl paws through his closet, fingers lingering longingly on some of his more vibrant sweaters.
