Love Hurts

by J. J. Keller

  His dark brown irises lit with a fire as she looked into his eyes. Crap, the guy was into her.

  He clasped her hand. Peppermint-scented breath rushed out in short puffs. “Shania, how are you doing? Classes going well?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, I need to go. I have to get Justin from daycare.” Her hand slipped from his grip. His eyes opened wide, no doubt because of her impolite behavior. She turned, her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum, hurried out the door and trotted down the sidewalk. She’d have to add rudeness to her growing list of unattractive qualities.

  Two blocks later, she walked through the open oval oak door into the vestibule of the church. The scent of sage and frankincense assaulted her nostrils as it had each time she’d entered. One antique walnut staircase and three turns down a hallway later, she came to the lower level nursery. She peeked through the clear round pane. Her son sat at a child sized table drawing with crayons.

  A rectangular face surrounded by white and black cloth obscured the window. Thick lenses enlarged dark irises in the deep set eyes. Shania jumped, her hand flying to her chest. The door opened. Sister Agnes’s large caped figure filled the space. Her beaded rosary swung out as she moved her generous hips. She was a force, and currently she blocked the entry.

  “Miss Miller, you’ve come to collect your son?” Her whispered voice carried to Justin.

  His face lit, and he scrambled from the table. Shania’s heart filled with happiness.

  “Yes, I’m sorry I’m late. The class ran over.” Shania’s voice rang through the room.

  “Some children are napping. Please keep your voice lowered.” Sister Agnes’s jowls jiggled like a bulldog’s.

  “Sorry, Sister,” Shania softly responded as she stepped across the threshold.

  Justin stowed his crayons and stuffed his miniature artist pad in his backpack. He rushed to her side.

  “Miss Miller, I find it necessary to mention that Justin’s shoes don’t fit his feet properly. The mission store is open if you’d like to take a look.” Her nose turned down, allowing her to peer over her tiny square spectacles.

  “Thank you, Sister, I’ll do that.” Shania grabbed Justin’s wrist. They made their way to the door. A roar filled her ears as her breath caught. The tears would have to wait. She refused to show weakness in public.

  She held tight to Justin’s hand, exited the room and turned the corner. Up a small set of stairs she entered the Gently Used store. The scent of starch and buffed old leather assaulted her nostrils.

  “Hi, Sister Magdalene. I’m searching for a pair of shoes for Justin. Has anything come in about his size?” Shania asked, while glancing at the clothing. Soon she’d have to buy him a new winter coat. The truth was she couldn’t purchase anything until her Certificate of Deposit matured in two weeks. In a moment of brilliance, she’d placed money in a number of CDs. Her research proved the deposits were a safe and efficient way of saving money. She made sure they matured at various times. She laughed. It wasn’t a well-made plan. Her books ended up costing twice what she’d allowed and between that and various other supplies, now she was strapped for cash.

  “I’m sorry, Shania. Shoes go fast, out of the box, onto the shelves and into hands of the needy.” She shook her head, making her habit shake. “I do have a fine pair of cowboy boots which might fit Master Justin.”

  She scurried to a wooden unit supported by bookshelves. Her nimble pale fingers tugged a lonesome pair of child’s red leather boots off the last rack. A bronco rider, with a lasso spinning above his head, had been stitched on the front of each shoe.

  “Oh,” Justin said. His face lightened with joy. He loved horses and there they were, ready to be worn and admired every day.

  “Want to try them on, Justin?” Sister Magdalene’s moon-shaped face brightened the room.

  He nodded, his blond locks falling into his eyes.

  Sister Magdalene sat on the floor and waved him over. He immediately ran, pivoted and sat on her lap. She pulled off the too-tight footwear and slipped on the boot. The left shoe hit the floor with a thud and the second cowboy rider was secured in place.

  “Now then, give them a try.”

  Justin stood and clomped around a small section of flooring. They were too big.

  “Mommy?” His anxious, sweet face begged her to take them.

  “The way he’s been growing, Shania, they’ll fit in a few weeks. They’re gently used.” Sister Magdalene rose, grabbed a red bandana, and wrapped it around Justin’s neck. She directed him to stand in front of the mirror.

  He was adorable. Too bad Halloween had passed. “How much are they?”

  “Five dollars.” The sister smoothed Justin’s hair. “The bandana is a gift.”

  Shania could eat peanut butter sandwiches for a few nights and Justin loved cereal. Thirteen more days and she’d have cash once again.

  “We’ll take them.” She smiled at Justin who proceeded to whoop and clack around the space, swaggering like a cowboy. “Thank you, Sister.”

  Her fingers dug through her backpack, searching the four pockets and coming up empty. Finally, in the center, tucked in a small space, was the five dollar bill. She laid it on the counter. The ting of the antique cash register sounded as the drawer popped out. Shania picked up his tennis shoes. He’d want to wear the boots home today.

  The time it took to get back to their apartment doubled as he slipped and slid on the oversized footwear. She couldn’t deny him the pleasure of owning the waders, and his small toes deserved a break.

  * * * *

  The next day Sister Agnes opened the door to the nursery with a frown on her wrinkled face. Crap, she didn’t look happy. The news would not be good.

  “Miss Miller, Justin has been complaining of his feet hurting.” Large knuckled fingers shoved glasses higher on her age-spotted nose.

  “I’m sorry, Sister. Not to make excuses, but the mission store didn’t have something his size. We did find a pair of boots, but they’re too large. I’ll buy him a pair of shoes in a few days. Until then, can he wear slippers to school?” Heat rushed to her face. She tried to tell herself she was a good mother, a good provider. Her shoulders slumped forward. She hadn’t planned very well.

  “If cash is a problem we have a fund for indigents. We’ll ask Father Michael to give you some money to buy him shoes.” Sister Agnes’s foul breath flowed over Shania’s face.

  “No,” Shania barked.

  The nun took a step back. Her pale trembling fingers grabbed the cross on her rosary.

  Justin ran forward, a frown on his face. Hands on his hips he faced Sister Agnes.

  “I’m sorry, Sister. I can take care of my son. It’s simply a matter of timing.” She shrugged. “His feet grew too fast and my money is tied up in a CD. In twelve days the first thing I’ll buy will be shoes.”

  Shania held her arm across her stomach. Self-doubt sent a horrible ripping cramp through her, chilling her. She could provide for her son and she would.

  “Shania.” Her voice was firm and low.

  Shania lifted her glance to meet Sister Agnes’s dark gaze.

  “Normally we don’t reduce fees, although I think we can in this one case. You only bring Justin for one hour and thirty minutes on Friday. Why don’t you talk to your friends, see if they can watch him during that class time? You’ll be paying twenty dollars less a week.” She dropped the cross then touched the side of Shania’s face. “You’re a good mother. You provide excellent care for your son.”

  “Thank you, Sister.” She grabbed Justin’s hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Outside the church she lifted Justin. Guilt-ridden, she carried him home. “Please, God, will this struggle ever end?”

  Chapter 4

  Thursday was the longest day of the week for Shania. She rushed from class to class until three, then she scampered to daycare to collect Justin. At five-thirty a teen from down the hall came to watch him until ten, when Shania arrived home from night class. Friday became
her day of freedom. She only had one session, drawing with Monsieur Barrett. The last day of the week would be the one she could keep Justin out of daycare.

  Between her Thursday class sessions, she hurried to the Fine Arts building and tapped on Monsieur Barrett’s office door.

  “Come in,” he bellowed. That deep baritone voice coming from such a small man always set her on edge.

  Shania cracked the door open. “May I have a moment, sir?”

  “Yes, of course, Shania. Come in.” He smiled and pointed to the seat opposite his massive walnut desk. She opened the door wider and shuffled to the hard wooden chair.

  “Sir, I’m seeking your help. Do you remember a student from four years ago, Beck Longview?” She smoothed down her slacks, wiping the sweat from her palms. Reluctant to seek help, she forced herself to ask for this small grant from her professor, lessening her pride a little. One of her positive traits was persistence. She wouldn’t give up until the professor granted her wish. However, the process wasn’t easy. Her glands went into overdrive. Sweat trickled down her back and she needed to pee.

  He tugged on his white goatee and pursed his lips. “Yes, I do, excellent with charcoals. One of my best students. His parents are funding the new art museum on Bell Street. In his honor, I believe.”

  “Yes, the very ones.” Resentment rippled through her. The Longviews’ rejection of Justin continued to hurt her. The art museum was three stories of decadent pretentiousness. Was the new construction a way of eulogizing Beck?

  “Where is Beck now, I wonder?” Monsieur scrapped his whiskers with two fingers, the sound snapping through the silent office.

  “He went to Iraq, has PTSD and is now being cared for by his parents.” She bit her lip, hating that it was so simple to categorize Beck’s life into one negative sentence.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. He was brilliant.” Hair crept over his big earlobes as he shook his head.

  “Yes, he is gifted with drawing.” She scooted forward on the chair. “The reason I’m here is to ask if I might bring my--our--three-year-old son to class with me on Fridays.” She needed to connect the school’s greatest financial contributors, the Longviews, to her son in order to get some leniency. Not something she was proud of, but Justin came first.

  Lips tightened and a cloud cast his eyes.

  “Before you say no. He’s a very well-behaved child. We have three weeks left in the semester. I promise, he won’t be an intrusion. He’ll only be here for ninety minutes each time.”

  “No children in the classroom.” His jaw firmed. He reached up to pull on an ear lobe.

  She’d beg if necessary. “It’s difficult being a single mother.”

  Each day she discovered how her choices influenced her son. Had she made the right decisions? A large tear plopped over her eyelid, hovered on her cheek. She resisted the urge to wipe the moisture away and draw attention to her weakness. “I loved him, and we intended to marry.”

  “Why didn’t you? PTSD isn’t crippling, is it?” He waved his hand in a dismissal mode.

  Shania glanced to her right as his graduate assistant slowly shut the door. “He was taken hostage and brutally ill-treated. His squad finally helped him to break free from his captors after a year. He’s not capable of holding a job or maintaining a regular existence. He doesn’t remember me.”

  Monsieur’s eyes clouded with sympathy. She didn’t want pity. She needed time. He simply must allow her son to come with her for a few hours during class. This was the only solution. Determined, she’d do what she had to in order to provide a comfortable life for Justin.

  “One hour will help me. Psychologically, Justin is still adjusting to being away from me. He’s quiet.” She twisted her hands together.

  “So he’s not like his father.” The smile wasn’t cynical, but touched on humor.

  “Just in appearance.” She glanced at her watch.

  “Okay. We’ll try tomorrow. He’ll stay in my office. You do not tell the other students he is your son because everyone will want their child, grandchild, niece, et cetera, to join the class. If necessary, I’ll tell people he’s family. If it doesn’t work out--too much noise, or any disturbance--he’ll not be allowed to return.” He stood, ending her session.

  “Thank you, Professor.” She stood and gathered her bags.

  “I’ll see you later tonight for lecture,” he said and opened the door leading into the classroom.

  She walked through and glanced around. The only entrances into the room were from his office and the hallway. She could place her easel between the two doors. Justin would be in her line of sight.

  Shania ran to her next class, plotting in her mind. The total of sixty dollar daycare savings would provide winter clothes for Justin. He’d grown at such a fast rate none of his cold weather garb fit him. Late November, snow would fall. His lightweight jacket would not suffice.

  Class ended without her truly listening to the lecture. In robot mode, she exited the classroom and building. Despite the distractions, she sensed someone following her to the church. A quick glance showed students hustling to classes, home, or wherever. She halted to stare at a pair of lovers entwined on a bench, kissing. A pang of envy ran through her.

  They stopped the lip lock and glanced at her. She smiled and hurried toward her destination, heat rushing through her. Several hurried steps later, she ran fingers through her hair, calmed her fast breathing and entered the church.

  The portal to daycare creaked open before she could knock. “Miss Miller.”

  “Sister Agnes, how are you?”

  “Quite well, thank you. Justin has been impatiently waiting for you today.” Her lips tightened as she folded her hands in front of her portly belly. The cross, secured by rosary beads attached to a belt clasped between the folds of her waist, swung back and forth.

  “I’ve made arrangements for Justin on Fridays, so he won’t be here the next three,” Shania blurted.

  “Very well. I assume you’re going to purchase him shoes. A child’s feet should not be bound in tight apparel.” Her eyes narrowed. The woman had a one track mind.

  “No, Sister, they should not. Yes, I certainly will purchase footwear for him as soon as possible.” Shania smiled to lessen the sharpness of her tone.

  Justin rushed to her side holding his backpack and coat in his hands. “Hi, Mommy.”

  Shania crouched and hugged him close. “Hi, baby doll.”

  He frowned and cocked an eyebrow. She’d already forgotten not to call him baby.

  “Er, I mean, honey. Let me help you.” She dropped to her haunches. Her portfolio clanked against the tiled floor.

  Justin dropped his bag and slid an arm in his coat. She helped him maneuver his other limb in the sleeve and zipped the jacket. One strap of his backpack was placed on his shoulder and then the other. He was set to go. Shania lifted her portfolio and repositioned her messenger sack.

  “Thank you, Sister. We’ll see you next Monday.” Shania glimpsed a slight shift of the Sister’s lips.

  “Did you have a nice day?” Shania glanced at Justin as they walked out the front of the church.

  “Yes, Jeremy barfed. It was gross.” Justin made gagging noises.

  Great. She hoped Jeremy didn’t have the flu. “How about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner?”

  “Umm, okay.” He ran to the three-tier fountain in the square and leaned over. The angel at the top poured the water from an urn, which spiraled over a ball, and dripped onto a half-moon. From there the fluid drained to a round bowl which splashed out into a larger basin.

  “Penny?” Justin glanced into the water.

  Coins shimmered under the clear water. Justin waited, leaning on the cement ledge, as Shania dug through her jeans’ pockets.

  “Here you go.” Dr. Adam Raimo’s cupped palm held a bank of coins.

  Justin held out both hands and Adam placed the silver and copper change inside.

  “Thank you,” Justin said and carefully carr
ied the coins to the ledge.

  “You’re welcome.” Adam motioned for her to sit.

  She perched, contemplating how to address her abruptness the day before as he sat beside her.

  Justin moved around the fountain with shiny brass money in hand, searching for the best location to toss the coin, and then ran back to get another.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you stalking me?”

  Adam stared into her eyes and chuckled. “No. I happened to see you and Justin as I was walking to my car.”

  “I see. About yesterday, I was in a rush.” A new relationship wasn’t on her schedule. She loved Morgan, regardless of how much it hurt. But how to tell Dr. Raimo?

  “I understand. Shania...” He moved his hand to rest beside hers on the ledge.

  “I want to be your friend, because I think you need someone to lean on and I want to hear your voice outside my dreams,” he mumbled.

  What? The last part sounded like he said he heard her voice in his dreams. Could he have been one of her clients at Companion Connections? She tried to separate out the different tones and verbiage of her clients. Most of them she’d tried to forget. “Dr. Raimo, I’m―”

  “Call me Adam.” He smiled.

  “Adam.” She laid her hands on her lap. “I need to be quite honest with you. I’m in love with someone and don’t want to--”

  “Shania, who do you have on your emergency contact list?”

  “What?” She’d anticipated him trying to convince her to date him. Asking about her emergency call list was an odd approach.

  “On your paperwork for the university, who did you put as your primary contact? I’m guessing the same person you used in Cyan.” His calm voice made her nervous. Where was he going with the line of questioning?

  “All of my documents have the same name listed.” She wasn’t going to tell him she’d put Morgan as the one. Regardless of what the future held, she could always count on him in an emergency.

  “It’d take your primary contact over three hours to get here. Look, we’ve known each other for four years. I’d like to think we’ve become friends. Let me help you by being the person you call in an urgent situation.” He grinned. “What better person to call than an MD, right?”