East Down South

by Eliza Freer

  Wilder isn’t sure if he should be smiling or sticking to his fearful expression. He glances my way again. I smirk and suppress my laughter while I continue to drink my coffee. My dad’s eyes don’t leave Wilder’s.

  “Also, since I need to be very clear with you and cut the crap…my daughter,” Dad points over his shoulder to me, “is the most perfect, important person in my life. She is absolutely breathtaking inside and out. Now. I want you to know if you do anything, and I mean ANYTHING, to dim that light that glows so naturally inside her, I will not hesitate to turn the fifty-five very large, very protective, very eager to put down anyone deemed an enemy at my disposal onto you. Don’t think for a second that the Coach of this football team can’t find out where you live, what your class schedule is, and where you spend your time. Because I promise you, without a shadow of a doubt, I can, and I will.”

  I’m actually very touched by my dad’s words and I finish off my coffee and go to the kitchen to drop off the cup. As I’m coming back I hear Wilder clear his throat to begin his rebuttal. This should be good.

  “Respectfully, Coach, while I’m honored to meet you today, that pales in comparison to how honored I am that your daughter decided to go out with me. I see her light, just as you do, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did anything to lessen that. I also find her astonishing in every aspect, and think you should know that you have done an amazing job, because who she is isn’t just about this girl standing here now, but who you helped shape her to be. She is a piece of you. Just like you shaped the football program here into a contender, you helped to guide your daughter into the woman she is now.”

  My dad chuckles. “While that is a very lovely speech son, and I’m very happy to hear all of those things, I wouldn’t let my daughter hear you say too many more times that anyone shaped who she is today other than her. She doesn’t need any pieces of me to be unmatched. And, quite frankly, she doesn’t need us to stand here gushing over her to know all of these things already, but as you should also take note, there’s nothing wrong with bestowing an amazing woman with compliments she deserve. Remember that, or I will come after you.”

  My dad takes a step closer to Wilder, who to his credit, doesn’t step back. My dad claps him on the shoulder. “Take care of my girl today. Nice to meet you, Sullivan.”

  Dad walks back into the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee, but not before winking at me on his way back in there. I follow him in and give him a kiss. “Okay, Pops, I’ll be back tonight sometime. Before curfew, so you don’t need to worry. You going to be at the field today?”

  “Yep. Don’t know what time exactly, but I’ll be sure to text you and let you know what’s up.”

  “Love you, Dad.”

  “Love you too, kid.”

  And with that, I push Wilder out the door and onto my porch after grabbing my jacket and purse. He stays standing on the porch staring at my front door.

  Wilder looks at me straight in the eyes with a bewildered expression on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever been directly, and indirectly, threatened so many times in the same sitting before. He’s scary but in a way where you don’t find him aggressive, just, you just believe him. Like he will do what he says. And that’s scarier. I do not doubt that he would send the football team after me. Even though, in fairness, they’d do it without him saying a word because they care about you so much.”

  I continue pushing him off the porch and over to his car, which is a hunter green jeep with the removable sides and tops. Wilder double checks to be sure I’m not offended at the possibility of my hair getting a little messed up, and I let him know I’ll just pull it back for the ride. I have a feeling this breeze will feel nice against my face which is sure to flush as it always does around him.

  “Yes, well, that’s my dad. But, he’s right. I shaped me into me. Of course he helped, but TECHNICALLY there’s no piece of him in my DNA.”

  Wilder starts the car and scrunches his eyebrows together. He looks at me and he puts the car in reverse and lays his arm over the back of my seat. “I’m not entirely following, but we have time for some explanations.”

  I sigh. “First, where are we going?”

  Wilder smirks. “Well you didn’t help much when you put the kibosh on nature without offering me any other options, so I’ve got a few things planned and you’ll just have to deal. You have to agree now that you’ll follow through, even if it might be nature adjacent.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek contemplating. There can’t be anything too bad, and if he tries to take me on a trail to hike or something equally awful, I’ll just fake a sprained ankle.

  “Fine, deal, but you have to agree to a term from me too.”

  “Name it, kitten.”

  “I continue to hate you for that, but my condition is you have to play a game of truth or dare with me. FULLY honest from beginning to end, where we each get….three turns.”

  Wilder sighs. “It’s not like it’d be the first game we played to get us to this point, so yeah, fine, it’s a deal.”

  I clap my hands in delight. “Excellent. I LOVE WINNING!” I scream out into the ether as we speed down a highway.

  Wilder chuckles this rough, deep chuckle that makes you wonder what he sounds like groggy from sleep. Not that I’m thinking of him sleeping…or seeing him the next morning afterwards. I’m blaming this squarely on my attraction to him, and not on any sort of feelings that are blossoming. Denial is a six letter word.

  He leans into me and asks, “So are we starting this game now, or later?” The car starts to slow and pull into a gravel parking lot. Wilder finds a parking space, even though they’re unlined and quite makeshift.

  “Where are we?” I stay seated even after he shuts off the car. Waiting to hear his response.

  “Now or later, kitten?”

  “Hum? What?”

  “Are we playing now or later? I need to prepare myself for your particular brand of torture.”

  I laugh. “Right. Let’s say we can start now and see where the day takes us.” I flutter my lashes a little so they appear flirty in an obvious way.

  Wilder sighs and gets out of the jeep. He walks over to my side and opens the door for me. I hop out and start to follow him up to the building, which is now coming into clearer view.

  “Wy, did you bring me to a greenhouse? Because along with my hesitation when it comes to nature, a green thumb I do not have.”

  I look up at him and he smiles down at me. A genuine smile like he’s excited to show me what he has planned. “That in no way surprises me, East. There’s a certain kind of nurture there that you clearly couldn’t care less about, but you don’t have to be good at everything. Bright side, you can make a mean cup of coffee, and by that I literally mean MEAN. You’re quite aggressive and feisty at work and your coffee can tell.”

  I punch him in the arm as he opens the door for me to the building. We walk inside and it’s beautiful. It looks like a greenhouse on the inside that’s been converted into some sort of restaurant. It’s a small glass building with plants, vines and flowers climbing up the sides, and planters beside every table with beautiful, multicolored flowers that there’s no way in hell I could name. It reminds me a little of that book The Secret Garden. It seems like a small, quaint private oasis that serves absolutely mouthwatering food. At least that’s how it smells.

  Wilder looks down at me apprehensive as we’re shown to our table. “Do you like it?”

  “Wilder, it’s beautiful. How did you even know about this place?”

  The hostess drops us off at our table and Wilder pulls my chair out for me. I smile seeing as how no man has ever done that for me before. Especially not inside a beautiful garden oasis restaurant.

  “Well, when you meet my mother, you’ll notice she likes nice and exclusive things. This is one of those places that only the most connected of people knows about. I don’t know why. One of those connected people probably owns it, but a
nyway, my mom has teas here and stuff. I’ve had to escort her to a couple and instead of drinking some oolong with some old ladies, I wandered back to the kitchen and watched them work. They took pity on me and fed me, and now when I need a moment away, I’ll come here and get a little lost with some good food.”

  I’m in the middle of drinking my water when I realize he said “when I meet his mother.” “Um. Wy. I’m not meeting your mother today am I? Like she’s not going to show up here and say, hey girl, wanna scone or something? We’re not doing like a golf course or country club or anything where I’ll have to small talk about Ivy League barber shop quartets from people named Miffy and Augustus, right?”

  Wilder throws back his head and gives a genuine, loud laugh. “Oh, god East. Is that what you think of when you think of rich people? You must be drowning in ‘80s movies. As far as Chloe Sullivan goes, don’t expect her to ever say “hey girl”, because while she is a good mom, she’s not a “cool Mom” who wears the same pajamas as her teenage daughter and serves margaritas at sleepovers.”

  I smile at the Mean Girls reference. “Okay, Janice Ian, if I’m heavy on the ‘80s movies, you’re drowning in Mean Girls references.”

  “Touché.” Wilder takes a long drink of his water. “So, I’d ask if your mom was one of those “cool moms” but when I walked you home that day you said something about her taking off and never being around. I think that’s probably not a question you can answer, right?”

  I find myself suddenly very focused on my menu. I steady my breathing by focusing on the very light scent of jasmine I can smell wafting around the restaurant.

  “Sorry, East, you don’t have to if you don’t want.”

  I look up at Wilder who seems uncomfortable that he made me uncomfortable, but there’s a softness to his eyes where I can tell he genuinely just wants to know me. He’s right, I did open the door when he walked me home, so it’s not like he’s totally in the dark here. Plus, it’s not a past I’m ashamed of, it just seems so complicated.

  “No, no, you’re fine. Um. Yeah, so. You’re right, I can’t say if my mom would’ve been a cool mom. I can’t say if she even liked margaritas or would’ve let me have a sleep over. I don’t know if she would’ve waited up for me to make sure I made curfew, or taken me shopping, or talked about boys, or brushed my hair out of my face while I laid my head on her lap when someone broke my heart. I can’t say if she looked like me. But, what I can say, is that she never loved me. Not for a second.”

  Wilder sits forward and puts his hand on the table to reach my fingers. He brushes the tip of my hand when the waitress walks over to take our order. Wilder tells her we need a few more minutes, and I dive back into my past, dredging up the feelings I try to not think about too often. That voice in the back of your head that teases your insecurities in your worst moments. The one that interrupts your confidence, and makes you question what you understand about love and loyalty. The one that tells you you just weren't good enough. The feeling of being unwanted.

  I smile at Wilder and his gesture of comfort as he moves his fingers back and forth against the tips of my fingers. “To start from the beginning, I guess is to say that I don’t know who my bio-dad is. He’s some guy who got my mom pregnant and disappeared like Kaiser Soze. Honestly, I don’t know if she told him, or if they had any kind of relationship, I just know he wasn’t going to be a part of my life, or that was the plan. So my mom met Sam, my dad, when she was already pregnant with me, but he fell so hard for her he just didn’t care. He’s the best man in the entire world, so he just wanted to be with her, and agreed to raise the kid as his and basically start a relationship with a built-in family. Near the end of her pregnancy, Sam and my mom got engaged. He didn’t want it to seem like he was marrying her just because she’s pregnant, even though that didn’t make sense because it wasn’t his, so he wanted to firm up his commitment and let her know he was in this, without making it seem seedy or false.”

  I clear my throat and take another long drink of my water. A server is there almost immediately filling my glass again. This place has great service. I move my fingers up so they’re now interlocked with Wilder’s, and lean into the table more so our ankles and feet are touching under the table. That bit of contact isn’t just for comfort, it’s sexy too. He’s just super sexy, even while telling this depressing story.

  “So, Mom’s in labor, giving birth to this miracle you see before you today, Dad’s in the delivery room, everything goes smashing. They hand me to Dad to cut the cord and he gives me to Mom, who I imagine held me for all of about thirty-five seconds give or take, before she said she was too tired and they wheeled me out to get cleaned up. Then they take me into that human equivalent of a pig pen where all the newborns chill out. Dad goes to make some calls, tell people everything is great, Mom says she wants to rest as having me has just taken every ounce of strength out of her, so they leave her be after checking the vitals and all that. Couldn’t tell you how much time passes, Dad’s never really been clear on that part. I don’t think he knows himself, but when he comes back to see her, see if she’s awake and well enough to wheel down the hall and see me, she’s gone. There’s some lame note she wrote on a smashed up piece of styrofoam from a cup of ice she was given about how she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be a mom, it’s all too much. And then she was gone, and out of my life before I even had a name. So, if you think scones and tea with Chloe Sullivan is bad, you ain’t got nothin’ on that Mother of the Year award winner.”

  At some point during my speech Wilder has moved his chair closer to mine and is sitting almost right next to me. Since we’re at a little round metal table with metal chairs, it’s not too hard to close the distance between us. I guess being stuck in a reverie gets you distracted.

  Wilder moves his free hand to the back of my chair, never letting go of our intertwined fingers. I can feel him start to play with strands of my hair, but it’s soothing, so I don’t move or say anything. “So, then, how does Sam fit into this picture? And, I’m assuming he’s told you this whole story, right? I mean there’s no way you could remember all this.”

  I laugh and take the brief moment to flag over our waitress so we can order. There’s something spicy with chicken on it, so that’s my definite go-to. Wilder orders some type of burger with fancy ingredients on it I’ve never heard of.

  “Yeah, all this info has come from Sam. He’s offered to tell me more, tell me about her. But I don’t want to hear it. If she couldn’t stick around to even name me, to want me for a single second, then I don’t want to give her a moment’s thought. He thinks I’ll change my mind. That I don’t necessarily want to have her in my life, but I might want to know her name. Know what she looked like. Know how they fell in love. Really I’m just sorry he ended up with someone so selfish, and somehow got saddled with a kid out of it.”

  I take another deep breath. I’m sure the sound teeters between sadness and exasperation. “But, Sam, like I said, is the best person alive. He gets back, sees she’s gone, gets security involved, they look at tapes, she indeed took off and got a cab or something to somewhere and she was never heard from again. So this leaves this little girl alone and lost with no biological parents to speak for her, but Sam says he took one look at me and knew I was always meant to be his. That he had no doubt in his mind that he was supposed to be my father. That we would belong to each other and live this life together…ya know…us against the world or whatever. That if I’d already overcome so much, and I’d just been born, that I’d have some steel in my spine just like him. That he wanted me, and said his proudest moment was when he knew he’d be able to call himself my father.”

  My voice cracks at that last part and Wilder tightens the hold on my hand. I take a deep breath. “So. Sam gets in touch with Child Protective Services and basically says he was supposed to be my dad, they were engaged, etc. and worked some magic and was able to adopt me essentially straight out of the hospital. I don’t know how it all
works, I don’t pretend to, I’m just thankful for him, for never having to spend a day in any sort of foster care, or wherever the put unwanted kids. Because I was wanted, by him. He wanted me, even if my biological parents didn’t.”

  Wilder leans in and whispers in my ear. “Sam is a very smart and lucky man. I’ve never met anyone more deserving of love than you. And I can tell you, you are wanted by more than just Sam. And I don’t just mean me, by the way.”

  I turn my head and he’s so close if I moved an inch we’d be kissing. Instead, he pushes a strand of hair off my forehead and looks at me with the kindest, most sincere, interested, beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. The emotion wrapped in his eyes as he looks at me takes my breath away. The brilliant sapphire blue takes on a special shine and sparkle that I’ve only seen when he looks at me. If nothing else, that makes me feel like I matter more than others do. My breath hitches when his fingers graze my face.

  Luckily, we get a small emotional reprieve when our food arrives, and we dig in. Since we’re basically eating brunch, I’m hoping he has a few more food stops in this day-long plan, since I eat like a normal human and get hungry more than once a day like some of the campus birds.

  Wilder wipes his mouth with his napkin. “So, Sam adopts you, and I’m assuming he’s the one that named you as well? Where did Easton come from?”

  I smile at the explanation I’ve been given over and over through the years. “It’s where he’s from. Easton, Pennsylvania. He said he thought it sounded nice and he loved where he’s from, he’s very proud of it, so he chose that. He also told me later that he was having a hard time being creative, which, who can blame him. My middle name is Alexa, that was his mom’s name, but he said one look at my face and he knew I wasn’t meant to be an Alexa. But, he’s right, I like it. I think it suits me.”

  Wilder finishes his burger during my explanation and throws his napkin on the table. He takes a big drink of water and says, “I do too. I love your name. It’s different, like you. It could be a guy’s name, but it’s more cooler as a girl’s name, just like you.”