Melt

by Aarons, Carrie

  “I’m ready!” She pops out of her room in her costume, and I burst into laughter.

  For some reason, she insisted on being that hippo from the Cincinnati Zoo. She loved Fiona, the animal Instagram star, and so we’d pieced together her costume with gray and purple sweats. I’d found hippo ears and a nose online, and added some lettuce leaves on her sleeves because we knew that Fiona liked to eat those. She looked adorable, and I loved her creativity.

  It was a rather easy costume, and I thanked my lucky stars that she hadn’t wanted to be something that involved sewing fifty two pieces together.

  “Look at you! Cuter than any baby hippo I’ve ever seen.” He scoops her up, making what I can only assume are his best hippo noises. “You ready to go Truck or Treating?”

  “YEAH!” She pumps a fist in the air.

  “Mommy, you have to get in your costume.” Jake smiles at me, mischief in his eye.

  I roll my eyes, annoyed that I even have to dress up. “You know, last year all I did was trail behind her and hold the pillow sack. Can’t I just do that again?”

  “No!” They both say in unison.

  Twenty minutes later and we’re all in our costumes, headed down to the car.

  “I don’t understand why I had to be the giraffe,” I mutter, annoyed.

  “Because the skin tight spotted suit so wasn’t going to fit me. Plus, your ass looks better,” Jake whispers as he closes Lennon’s door.

  I swear to God, he only ordered this because I look like Catwoman … except, well, I’m a giraffe. He’s in a penguin costume, claiming he had to be a penguin to peddle ice cream around on Halloween.

  Or correction, the day before Halloween. Since some of the neighborhoods around DC weren’t particularly kid friendly, or safe, Jake and some of his food truck friends had set this up two years ago. Truck or Treating happened the day before Halloween, in a local park where they all got permits to park. They sold their products, but also had huge tubs of candy out front for the kids to go truck to truck. And twenty percent of the proceeds were donated to charities to help at-risk youth around the city.

  If I didn’t already think he was a superhero, Jake just grew ten feet in my eyes.

  Plus, it would give Lennon somewhere to experience a real Halloween in DC. She probably didn’t remember it, but back in Seattle, we lived in a townhouse bordered by a bunch of other young families with children. In our apartment, she really wouldn’t get that same experience. I was thinking about taking her to Mom’s neighborhood, but this would be a great bonus.

  “Oh my God, there are so many people here.” I couldn’t help being surprised as we parked and got out of the car.

  Parked along the sidewalk and overlooking a grassy park were over a dozen food trucks, people lined up at them to buy some grub. Children in costumes of all sorts ran through the park, yelling and laughing and trading candy.

  “I told you, it’s a big deal.” Jake holds my hand as he hoists Lennon up on his waist. “I’m kind of a regular charity superstar.”

  “Can it, Bono.” I walk to Cones & Corks and see Alice already scooping.

  “’Sup, guys?!” Jake’s business partner waves at us, and Lennon shrinks back a bit.

  To be honest, I think Lennon forgets who Alice is because she is constantly changing the color of her hair. Today it is bright neon yellow, and I wonder where she even found a dye that color. She’s dressed like some kind of zombie rockstar, and I’m afraid she might be scaring the children but don’t say anything because I’m cautious of what she’ll say in front of my daughter. While I like Alice, and I know she means well, she isn’t exactly kid friendly.

  “You think maybe you could have gone with a little bit more G-rated of a costume?” Jake laughs.

  Well, at least he isn’t afraid to say something.

  “Lennon, never work for someone else. The boss is always ragging on your balls.” She shoots my daughter a silly look, which makes her laugh.

  “Alice, really? Language.” I chuckle, but can’t be too mad. She’s kind of lovably annoying.

  “Great turnout, we’ve sold out of two flavors already. Go on out, I’ll hold down the fort. Lennon, I expect your pillowcase to be full of candy when you get back, so get to it. Score some Twizzlers for Aunt Alice.” Alice nods at her and salutes, going to help the next customer.

  We went back out, walking to the first truck. Lennon ran a little ahead of us, familiar with some of the truck owners now that Jake had been taking her around some of the festivals recently.

  “You look incredible. This penguin definitely wants to mate with you.” He leaned into me, doing some kind of weird sniffing, animal thing.

  I lean into him, unable to stop from smiling even if I was annoyed that he made me wear this costume. “That would be a pretty weird looking baby.”

  “But it would be fun trying to make it. We would make some pretty adorable babies.”

  He says it so off the cuff that it catches me by surprise. Over the course of the past few months, we’ve become more intimate and closer then I guess I realized. Jake has become one of the people I turn to most in my life, he’s practically living in our apartment, we don’t do anything where he isn’t involved. He’s becoming closer to Lennon, and now I guess we were talking about babies?

  Fuck. Our babies would be so adorable.

  I never really thought about having more kids. Sure, maybe when Derek and I were still together and Lennon was one or so, it was a pipe dream that our family would grow. But when things began to get tough, I kind of put those thoughts out of my mind.

  Having a family with Jake. It was an idea I hadn’t really considered before, as we had said we were going slow at the very beginning. Since then, there hadn’t really been a conversation about where this was going or how serious it was, it just kind of progressed through those steps and we’d become inseparable.

  I realize I’ve been silent for a few seconds, and Jake is looking at me with a look that says, “maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “We would … so long as they have your dimples.” My grin is far off, thinking about what little Jake/Samantha kids would look like.

  “And your eyes.” His look into said eyes is deeper than the joking atmosphere we’d been teasing in before.

  Sometimes, I forgot how young I still was, because as a single mom, I didn’t much feel like it. But clearly, my boyfriend was thinking about things beyond right now. He was considering a future, a life with me. And maybe it wasn’t such a pipe dream to think about what that could be.

  Thirty-One

  Jake

  “We are going to get so much foot traffic.”

  Alice rubs her hands together, examining the thousand square foot store front that was currently under construction.

  “That’s what I’m hoping for.” I nod, looking around the space and seeing all of the vision boards I’d designed with the interior decorators coming to life.

  It turned out, pairing with the Foodie Conglomerate hadn’t been the wish and a prayer I’d been doubtful to bank on. They were the real deal, bringing us in for a meeting a month ago and basically moving lightyears since then. They’d believed in us, listened to our ideas for expansion and brought in the best people to help us. With their help, we’d scouted locations around the nation’s capital until we found the perfect space right on the Georgetown strip. I’d sat down with the trendiest designers, who were perceptive to my idea of both a bar and an ice cream shop. They’d worked to secure us permits, a crew, and anything else we needed.

  And now here we stood, in the half-finished brainchild we’d always dreamt about. The walls were painted a creamy beige, the color of coffee with almond milk. Along one wall stood a long, weathered white counter with a wood top. It held the cash register, and empty stainless steel pits, twelve of them total. They were individual freezer systems, and I’d found the idea in an industry magazine. Instead of having the typical ugly white bubble case to hold our ice cream, we were going to showcas
e the flavors like they deserved to be. The wall behind it was blank, but Alice had a local artist friend who was going to come in and do a word art mural for us. I’d seen the mockups, and was so excited about it that I almost got a boner thinking about how awesome it was going to look.

  The bar was along the other wall. A dark, grainy wood with copper stools seated neatly in front of it, the construction on my favorite part of the restaurant was finally complete. And that part … it took my breath away. An entire wall, top to bottom, of criss-crossing wood beams that created a giant wine rack. It was better than a blow job.

  Okay, maybe not a blowjob. But it was close.

  “Do you think we’ll scare away some of the families with the bar aspect?” Alice rubs her hand across her chin.

  “Getting spooked? I thought you had faith in our vision,” I tease her. “No, we’ve run the numbers with the business guys at Foodie; they think it will only increase sales. It attracts the college crowd, as well as younger parents who want a more hip family place to bring their kids to. This allows them to not only get a sweet treat for little Timmy or Susie, but also let their hair down a bit with a glass of Pinot Grigio.”

  “Look at the sales guy over here talking figures and estimates. Who are you?” Alice hoists herself onto one of the mismatched stools standing by the bar.

  “I did graduate with a business degree, smart-ass.”

  Jana came up from the back, her eyes wide. “Can’t believe that kitchen. You are going to make some kickass dessert in that kitchen.”

  She fist bumped me, which made me grin. Usually, she was a little more reserved, but I think we were wearing off on her.

  “Should we do a taste test? I think it’s only fitting that the three of us pick the first wines we’ll feature.” Alice pulls a crate up, one that I didn’t know she’d been hiding there, from behind the bar.

  “Technically, we don’t have a liquor license yet …” I bit my lip.

  “Stop being a pussy.” Jana slaps my shoulder.

  Alice and I bust out laughing, because we’ve definitely corrupted her over the years.

  We all pull up a stool, the shapes and sizes unmatching because we’re still trying to decide on decor. As Alice pours us each a taste of the four bottles she brought into red Solo cups, I can’t help but sit back and revel in it.

  “Who would have ever thought we’d make it here?”

  Cones & Corks had been a half-assed business scheme when it had popped into my head. I’d rented the first truck, fixed it up with the help of Bryan … and man had I bought him a lot of alcohol to cover the costs of labor. That truck had been my baby, I’d slept in it some nights. I would drive that thing for hours, doing a secret little shimmy of my hips whenever I made a sale to some kid in a neighborhood, or a woman looking for an after work pick me up. I’d had to give a quarter of my profits back to the rental company, and covering overhead costs of making the ice cream in my own apartment kitchen had nearly bankrupt me. But I’d believed in it. Sure, I didn’t quite know that we’d be here three years later, but I had never stopped.

  “I did.” Jana speaks after we all taste the first wine, her head bobbing that the grape was good. “When I joined y’all, I had this feeling that I was coming on to something bigger than just that little office space we used to have.”

  “That’s so sweet.” Alice gave her a sugary smile and we all laughed because it was such a weird expression on her face.

  “I think that in honor of us, Jake should create flavors with our name for the opening. I vote for Jana Jamocha!”

  Alice grumbles. “Not named-after flavors again.”

  Starting on my third glass, a deliciously dry red, I nod in agreement. “It’s a must. I’ll make you some sour apple flavor, Alice, to match your soul.”

  “Do you think we’ll make it a year?” It’s the first time I think I’ve ever heard a niggle of doubt in Alice’s voice.

  “I have to believe we will. Otherwise, we’re shooting ourselves in the foot before we even open.”

  There was a shadowy omen, or curse, that most restaurants sunk within a year. And while it was always a thought in the back of my mind, I just kept moving. I would sweat and bleed for this place, so that it wouldn’t fail.

  “If he says so, then I’ll take it as sermon. Oh wise one.” Alice raises her hands and bows to me.

  “In a year from now, let’s do a shot of Jamo at this very bar.” I finish my last Solo cup and sit back.

  “I thought we didn’t really do liquor.” Alice makes a good point.

  “We’re wine snobs, yes … but for celebration I think we can make an exception.”

  We all nod quietly, and I pray like hell to whatever God listens to my unrepentant ass that we strike gold.

  Thirty-Two

  Samantha

  Mom stands over the stove, mixing a giant pot of tomato sauce.

  “I’m not sure why you’re making enough food to feed the state of Texas. It’s just the three of us tonight.”

  Jake was at the restaurant again, it being crunch time and all before the soft opening in a month or so. They were putting the final touches on everything, cleaning down the place, beginning to mix flavors in the new kitchen in the back. It was actually really cute to see how excited he was about it, and I beamed with pride whenever we were out and someone asked him how it was going. You could hear the tangible joy in his voice, and I for one was thrilled to have a bar I could hang out in that I could also bring my kid to.

  “I don’t know … I’m still used to your brother being here. Even though, I know, he’s been overseas for two years. But once you’re a mother, some behaviors you just can’t go back on. Plus, I can send a bunch home with you for Jake. He’ll always eat it.”

  That was true. Since he’d basically moved himself in, our food seemed to disappear in a matter of days.

  “How are things going by the way?” If that wasn’t a fishing expedition, I wasn’t sure what was.

  She’s lucky I’m in the mood to share. “Things are great, actually. He’s … well, amazing.”

  “I should have thought to fix you two up a while ago. In fact, I may have mentioned when he was on route in the truck one time that I had a daughter. Funny how fate works.”

  Yes, it was. “He’s great with her, too.”

  Mom smiles, looking back. “That’s a good man right there, Samantha Jean. Don’t let him go.”

  I wasn’t planning to. “Mom, did you ever want to date after Dad?”

  The spoon she’s stirring in the pot slows, and I know she’s thinking about how to phrase her thoughts.

  “I tried, honestly I did. But … your father was my best friend. Sure, I’ve thought about it as I grow older, having a companion might be nice after all. But … I’m not sure why, I just can’t seem to invest in anyone I meet. Your father might be gone for a long while now, but I still think about him every day. Maybe that’s what happens, you find the person you’re meant to be with and you have as much time as this earth grants you and then that’s it. I feel like … if I tried to make that happen with anyone else, I’d just be lying to myself.”

  I frown. “That makes me sad for you, Mom.”

  She smiles complacently. “Don’t be. I had a wonderful marriage for many years. And now I have you back, and I have my granddaughter. I have my hobbies and my work, I’m perfectly happy. Sometimes, you get what you need, but not all at once. That’s life.”

  Her easy shrug as she goes back to making dinner, dumping the pasta and stirring in homemade meatballs to the sauce, gives me some … closure. For a while after I had decided to move home, those transitional months in Seattle where Derek and I weren’t really together but I had some hope, I was devastated. Devastated that I couldn’t make it work with the father of my child. Horrified that I’d become just another single mother statistic, that I hadn’t done things in the “right societal order,” so someone was punishing me. Why couldn’t I have the baby and the love and marriage?

&n
bsp; But Mom’s words strike a chord. That’s life. I have my beautiful daughter. I struggled with becoming independent, but I did it. And now I had found that love I’d been looking for. It may have come together in a patchwork sewn together in the wrong order, but at the end of the day, I had one complete quilt.

  “Let’s eat. You’re getting too skinny.” Such a mom thing to say.

  Looking into the living room, I see Lennon asleep on the couch. She had a fun filled day with Grandma, and I decide to let her sleep, knowing that could make for a disaster tonight. But it was the weekend and I was okay with being a bad mom right now. My appetite didn’t want to wait, and I chose myself in the tiniest of ways.

  Right as we were about to sit down, the table set with steaming bowls of comfort, my phone dinged.

  “Turn it off,” Mom scolds me, still not allowing cell phones at her table.

  “One second, Mother.” I can’t help but sound like myself at sixteen.

  Derek: Got job offer in Argentina. Will be flying out in an hour. Tell Lennon I love her and will try and call when I get settled.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I stare at my phone, dumbfounded.

  “You’re lucky she’s asleep.” Mom pointed to Lennon napping on the couch, a cartoon playing on the TV in the background.

  I keep staring at the illuminated screen, relief and fury coursing through my body like antidotes to one and other.

  “He left.” I can’t seem to form more words than that.

  “Jake?! Oh, honey—”

  I cut her off, because she’ll just go into some speech about how strong I am. “No, Derek. He’s moving. To Argentina.”

  She crumples up the napkin in her fist. “That bastard.”

  There is nothing I can think of to type back. I want to tell him to go fuck himself. I want to wish him well. I both want him out of our lives and in hers as well. I feel guilt that I’m glad he’s moving to a country where he will no longer be a factor in my parenting of Lennon. That this most likely means he’s moved on from trying to be a father, and won’t file for custody. But it’s also euphoric, not having that worry sitting on my shoulders anymore. I’ve won the parent contest, and that little devil sits on my shoulder grinning.