by Rye Hart
“Maybe another time,” I said. “I'd rather the kids start out and we'll go from there.”
“You're the boss,” she said with a wink. “But just remember, I won't judge. Everyone has to start somewhere.”
Yeah. Easier said than done though, when you're approaching middle-age and the instructor is an attractive twenty-something who you see on a regular basis.
“Go on,” I said, waving her on. “Zoey is anxious to get started.”
Emma walked toward the ocean, holding not her surfboard, but a bodyboard, and had each of my kids carry their smaller ones alongside her. She was teaching them the first rule of surfing – how to properly carry your board and taking care not to hit anyone with it on your way to the waves.
I couldn't help but smile at how excited they were. Even as Zack looked back at me, I could tell he was already more comfortable learning to surf now that Emma was the one teaching him. I loved how good she was with the kids. She really took to them and they to her; they had an obviously natural connection.
If only I could find a woman like her, maybe I could find love again. But I knew that Emma was special and there really weren't all that many women like her out there, especially women my own age. She had an intelligence and a way about her that defied her age that I didn't see in most of the women I'd gone out with. The fact that she was so much younger than me often blew my mind. Her parents were right about her – she was wise beyond her years.
CHAPTER SEVEN
EMMA
I knew why Marcus changed his mind and I couldn't help but roll my eyes, although, not in front of him, of course. He'd changed his mind about taking a lesson with me because of his oh-so-manly pride. Because to him, I was probably always going to be that little girl next door, and God forbid I teach him something for a change.
Men and their fragile little egos.
He was sitting on the sand watching us, and I hoped to God he could see that I was no longer a little girl. I was a grown woman and this is what I did. I'd been surfing since I was his kids’ ages. My dad was a lover of the waves and had brought Riley and me out here often. Riley was never as interested as I was and never really took to it like I had. She preferred her track and field to surfing. I, on the other hand, was born for the waves and the sand. To me, there was nothing more amazing and magical than being on the water. Swimming, body boarding, surfing, paddle boarding, I'd do any of that before I'd run on a track or jump over hurdles. Put me in a kayak before you put me on a field. Surfing was in my bones and was what I was born to do.
I started off by showing the kids how to body board, starting out slowly and getting them over their fear of the waves. Watching them getting into it made me smile. I'd never felt happier. It reinforced the idea that college was simply not for me. As I watched the kids splashing about, that much was clear.
When we were finished for the day, Zoey asked me, “So when do we actually get to surf, Emma?”
“In time. You have to work up to it. It's not nearly as easy as it looks,” I said. “But don't worry, you'll be surfing in no time. You're a natural.”
“Maybe daddy could come out with us next time?” she asked, her dad walking up to us.
“I just enjoy watching you learn,” he said.
Silly man, I thought. Too afraid to make a mistake in front of me or his kids.
“Are you scared, daddy?” little Zack asked him, staring up with wide eyes.
That was a trick question right there. If he admitted he was scared, Zack might be more fearful too, and he was already a little scared of the water to begin with. That was why we'd stayed close to the shore and I'd stayed with him the entire time.
“Not at all,” Marcus said.
“Then why not join us?” Zoey piped in.
“Because – ” he was trying hard to think of a logical reason.
“Because you're scared. Admit it, daddy, you're scared,” Zoey said, laughing. “We're braver than daddy, Zack!”
Zack just stared at his father, the fear growing in his own eyes. As he seemed to be contemplating the fact that his dad was scared, I could see him questioning whether or not he should keep trying. “Listen, buddy,” Marcus said, pulling his son close. “I'm not scared, I just think Emma has her hands full with the two of you.”
“Not really,” I said and flashed him a mischievous smile to let him know I wasn't going to let him get away with his excuse. “I teach larger groups all the time. When I was in San Diego, I often did classes for companies, and – ”
“I get the idea,” Marcus said, clearly dismayed that I hadn't aided and abetted his excuses.
“So, you'll join us next time, daddy?” Zack asked.
I could tell Marcus was stuck between a rock and a hard place of his own creation. I certainly wasn't about to give him an easy way out. I didn't know why I wanted to challenge his sense of masculine pride so badly, but I did. Maybe it was so that he'd realize I wasn't just some dumb little girl who lived next door to him. Maybe it was so he'd realize I was a grown up, that I had become someone he should trust and respect. Maybe then, he would look at me and see a woman he would want to spend time with. So, I just stood there, my hands on my hips, unable to keep the amused smile off my lips as I waited for a response.
“Sure,” Marcus said, a lopsided grin on his face. “I suppose I have no choice, do I?”
“Great! See you next Saturday then? Same time, same place?” I asked, a wide smile spreading across my face.
“Yep, we'll see you then,” Marcus said. “Or rather, we'll probably see you before then, because you know – ”
“I know,” I said with a wink. “You can't live without me.”
ooo000ooo
“You'll never guess who I'm giving surfing lessons to?” I asked my dad over dinner.
“Who's that?” he said.
“The Pratts,” I said brightly. “It's mostly Zoey and Zack, though. Their father is too chicken to join us right now, but I'm hoping to change that.”
We were all sitting down for dinner, which was something I missed while I was away. Even Riley joined us for a change.
“Yeah, he was asking about you yesterday,” Riley said.
“He was?” I asked, an electric jolt shooting through me. “What about?”
“I dunno. Didn't say,” she said with a shrug, picking at the salad in front of her.
There was a look shared between my mother and father. Something had passed between them and it looked like disapproval of some sort. But disapproval of what? What was it they were thinking?
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, dear,” my mother said.
They remained quiet, but continued to shoot looks at one another as I proceeded to eat my dinner.
Riley laughed suddenly, clapping her hands as if she'd just thought of the funniest thing in the world. My parents looked at her like she had indeed gone mad and I just cocked my head, wondering what she was thinking. Eventually, her laughter tapered off, though she still looked highly amused.
“They think Marcus might be trying to get into your pants,” Riley chirped.
I nearly choked on the piece of chicken I was chewing. “Wait, what?” I croaked, shooting a look at both of them. “Are you serious?”
“Honey, it's just – ” my mom started to say, but then stopped, letting my father continue.
“The way he looks at you sometimes is a little inappropriate,” my dad said. “It's almost like he's checking you out. I noticed it a little before you left for college, but didn't say anything at the time. But now that you're back, it's, well, even more so. And you are spending a lot of time together. ”
“I babysit his kids,” I said. “And now I'm teaching them how to surf, which is a coincidence. Nothing more. He didn't know that I was an instructor down at the shop. When I walked up, he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.”
My parents shared a look that said they weren't sure about that and it infuriated me. Although, the news that even they'
d picked on the idea that Marcus was checking me out sent a secret thrill through me.
“Really? You've known Marcus for how long?” I asked, my voice filled with righteous indignation. “Has he ever tried anything with me?”
“Has he?” my dad asked.
“No,” I said, dropping my fork onto my plate with a clatter as I stared at him with wide eyes. “Never once. He's never been inappropriate with me. Never once. He's been nothing but a perfect gentleman.”
Even though I wouldn't mind it if he did try something, I thought to myself.
“Besides,” I added. “I'm not a kid anymore. If – and it's a big if – he ever expressed interest in me and I reciprocated, there's nothing wrong with that. I'm twenty-one years old now, in case you forgot.”
“Honey, Marcus is a good man, for the most part – ”
“For the most part?” I raised an eyebrow at my father. “He is a good man. A good father, a decent man, and a good person. Period.”
“His past is a little sketchy, honey,” he said. “I know it was years ago, but he has a past you don't know anything about; a past I'd rather you not get caught up in.”
“What past?” I scoffed. “He was married and his wife died in a drunk driving accident. I can't see how that could possibly be his fault. ”
“She doesn't know, Dan,” my mom said, turning to my father. “She doesn't know about his drug problem.”
Drugs? Really? That was shocking to me. Of all the people I would have guessed had a drug addiction, Marcus Pratt would have been the last. He lived in a beautiful, clean, and expensive home in Huntington Beach. He worked a boring financial job, had two kids. There was nothing about him that made me think drug addict. Not in a million years. I didn’t even know what to say. Surely, they had to be mistaken.
“It's true,” my dad said softly. “It's why he never went pro. He played for UCLA and was actually on the verge of being drafted. You already knew that. But what you didn't know is that he was kicked off the football team for a positive drug test. It was one of many, actually. And later, he was arrested with cocaine in his possession. He has a record, and ever since his wife died, I've worried he might fall back into old habits. They say tragedy can make an addict go back to those things that once brought them comfort.”
My jaw was on the floor. Marcus? No way. I wanted to deny it all on his behalf, tell them they were mistaken, but I guess I didn't really know Marcus all that well. I certainly didn't know what he did during his college years. And even so, even if he had a past like that, it was so long ago. He'd quite obviously cleaned up his act since then and was living a good, clean, respectable life.
“So? Who hasn't done stupid shit in college?” I said. “I had so many opportunities to get into trouble in San Diego. My roommate was drunk almost every night. The things I saw – ”
“Honey,” my dad said. “You don't understand. He's an addict, that doesn’t just go away. He will struggle with it every day for the rest of his life. It's fine for you to babysit, but I'm just saying, watch out. Don't do anything stupid. Don't get involved with him personally.”
Suddenly, I'd lost my appetite and stood up from the table. “I left SDSU because I didn't want to be lured into that lifestyle,” I snapped. “I've never given you any reason to think I wasn't level-headed and mature enough to make my own choices. I'm not a child anymore.”
With that, I left the dining room and went downstairs. I had no desire to be lectured about my involvement with Marcus, such as it was. There was no way we'd be together like that, but still, it was none of their business if we were. I had always made the right choices in life, unlike Riley, who got away with things I never even would have dreamed of trying to get away with. I'd always been on my best behavior growing up, and still was.
To think, they doubted me now, as an adult, pissed me off beyond reason.
I grabbed my bag and walked out the patio door. As soon as I did, I smelled something cooking on the grill next door. Marcus was barbecuing something that smelled delightful. He looked over and saw me standing there, and gave me a warm, gentle smile.
“Hey there,” he said. “We have some extra pork steaks if you'd like to join us.”
I knew I shouldn't. I knew if it did, it would only piss my father off more. But Marcus was a good guy. His past was behind him, and nothing my parents said could convince me otherwise. I looked at the house, wondering if my folks were in there listening to our exchange, and decided I didn't care.
“Thanks, I'd love to,” I said with a smile.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Where are the kids?” I asked, noticing the backyard was quieter than normal.
There was no Zoey and Zack running around like chickens with their heads cut off, it was just the two of us standing back there next to his grill. I was so used to the manic energy of the children that the lack of it made the atmosphere in the backyard a little strange, and a little empty.
“Oh, my mom called and wanted to see them, so they're with her for the night,” he said. “She's taking them to see a movie and they're sleeping over at her place. It's good for them to spend time with the grandparents once in a while. And to be honest, I could use the break.”
“Yeah, I'm sure it is,” I said. “My grandparents aren't local. The ones that are still alive, anyway.”
“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know that.”
He popped the top on a beer and guided me over to the picnic table near the pool. I took a seat and Marcus sat down across from me.
I shrugged. “My mom's parents live in Maine, we've visited a few times,” I said. “They used to visit us when they could get around better.”
He nodded. “Getting old sucks, that's for sure.”
“Pfft,” I scoffed. “You're not old. Far from it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Most girls your age consider people my age to be dinosaurs. Maybe even older than dinosaurs.”
“Please,” I said. “For one thing, I'm a woman, not a girl,” I very pointedly corrected him. “And seriously, you're acting like you're ninety. You're not even forty yet, so shut up.”
He laughed, staring off into the distance as if deep in thought. I would have killed to know what he was thinking in that moment, but I didn't want to ask. It seemed too personal. And though we were friendly, I didn't think we were on close enough terms to justify me trying to pry into his mind like that.
“Mind if I get something to drink?” I asked.
“Oh sure, help yourself,” he said. “You are over twenty-one, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“One minute you're telling me I'm not old, the next you're calling me 'sir',” he chuckled. “Anyway, you can grab yourself a beer or a glass of wine, totally up to you. If that's not your thing, there are sodas in the fridge.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, teasing him with a smile as I stepped inside his house.
Like the backyard, the house was eerily without the kids. They most definitely brought such an electric energy to everything, that the absence of it was striking. Even when they were upstairs asleep, their presence just made the place feel like home. I helped myself to some white wine he had chilling in the fridge. As I did so, I noticed a new drawing by Zoey attached to the refrigerator door with a magnet. I smiled as I read the names above each person. Her dad wearing a business suit and carrying a briefcase, she and her brother were holding hands in the middle. and there was one other person off to the side that caught my eye.
It was me.
I stood beside her father, almost in the position a mother would stand, and above my picture was my name written inside of a little red heart. Seeing that filled my heart with a sudden sense of joy and it nearly made me well up with tears.
I realized then, just how much those kids meant to me.
I stepped back outside just as Marcus was plating the pork steaks. He handed me a plate with a baked potato and asparagus – all of which he'd cooked on the grill.
“Impr
essive,” I said, staring at the delicious meal in front of me.
“When you're a single parent, you learn how to cook pretty quickly,” he said. “I wasn't about to raise my kids on TV dinners and fast food.”
“That's because you're a good dad,” I said with a smile.
I remembered what my dad had said, how he'd told me that Marcus had had a drug problem. Looking at him now, there was no sign of any problems, or any relapse into addiction. Yeah, maybe there was some depression, but that could be expected when you'd been widowed young like he'd been. Especially, when you loved your wife as intensely as Marcus had loved Gina.
“I try to be the dad Gina would have wanted me to be,” he said softly. “It's not always easy.”
“You make it look easy,” I said, taking a sip from my wine. “Honestly, I've seen very few fathers as devoted as you, especially single dads. You really ought to give yourself more credit. From where I'm sitting, you're doing an amazing job, Marcus.”
“I just work so damn much,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like I miss so much of their childhood, so many of those special moments that only come around once. But I have to provide for them, you know?”
I nodded. “Have you considered finding another job?” I asked. “One that doesn't require such long hours?”
“Without taking a massive pay cut?” he said.
“You're smart and resourceful. I bet you could figure something out if you wanted to. What have you always wanted to do?”
Again, he stared off in the distance as he finished his beer. He turned back to me and gave me a sheepish grin, almost as if he were embarrassed by what he was about to tell me.
“Honestly? I don't even know anymore,” he said. “It's been so long since I actually imagined what I'd like to do for a living because I have a good job. I'm pretty much at the top of the company, make a good living, and can give my kids a good life. Besides, when you have to provide for someone other than yourself, you can’t really afford to be a dreamer.”
