by Hadley Quinn
I didn’t even have to ask who he was talking about, but I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You got a thing for her?”
His question wasn’t evasive—it was actually more of a statement—but I really didn’t care to answer.
“Who’s Clare?” Danny asked as he grabbed another slice of pizza.
“The new neighbor down the street,” Trent answered.
“She hot?”
“Yeah, total babe. But she’s married with kids.”
“Hmm, well, I mean if there’s trouble on the home front…”
I shook my head as I listened to these two have a conversation without me. Carlos barely acknowledged them—he was basically having a conversation with the game on TV—but I just let Trent describe Clare to Danny while they discussed the pros and cons of shagging married women.
“You guys are horrible,” I finally said. “I would never come between a marriage, I don’t care what the circumstances are.”
“You say that now,” Danny shook his head. “But wait ‘til you get a woman that is so sex deprived that she turns to you to make her fantasies come true. And you don’t even have to deal with the relationship crap because that would tip the hubs off, so you get wild, crazy sex with a side of zero commitment.”
“You’re worse than me,” Trent chuckled, shaking his head at him. “At least I didn’t know the chick I hooked up with was married.”
“And at least she never let the husband know,” Danny agreed. “You dodged a bullet with that one. This one chick from the gym…”
I got up with my pack of smokes, letting them think I needed a cigarette. Truth was, I couldn’t stand talk like that. What Aubrey did to me was bad enough; I couldn’t imagine doing that to someone else, especially if there was a marriage and kids involved.
It got me thinking about that Grant fucker that she left me for. I’m sure he had no care in the world about how he’d affected my life. But deep down, I knew he wasn’t the one to blame. I wanted to blame him, but I couldn’t. For whatever reason, it was her choice to take those steps in her life. I may have unknowingly weakened my chances here on my end, but it was her decision to handle things the way she did.
“You just might suck the life out of that thing in one draw,” a soft voice said in the night.
It took me by surprise; I didn’t realize anyone was around. But in the darkness, I could barely see Clare walking along the sidewalk in front of the house next door. As she got closer to the front of my house, I saw she had something white in her hand but couldn’t tell what it was.
I crushed my cigarette into the ashtray and stepped off the porch. She was alone and it made me curious. “What are you doing out here by yourself?” I stopped a few feet in front of her.
She paused for a second as she crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn’t to cover her breasts since she had on a hoodie, but that’s when I noticed the baby monitor in her hand.
“Just needed to get out and stretch for a bit. I’ve been unpacking boxes all day and my back is killing me. But I got more done in the two hours the girls have been asleep than the four hours I tried while they were awake.”
Smiling I replied, “They’re mischievous?”
“Ha, more like it’s a race to see how many things I can put away before they unpack some more. It’s two against one, kind of not fair. I’m trying to teach them how to help with their own boxes, but that didn’t last long.”
I ran my hand through my hair, debating whether or not I should offer to help again. She’d already turned me down a couple of times, but I’d still yet to see a man come in or out of that house.
“I work during the day, but I’m free in the evenings and most Sundays,” I told her. “Let me know if I can help.”
She shook her head. “That’s okay, I’m not looking for sympathy. It’s just a challenge, that’s all.”
“Well I wasn’t really being sympathetic, I was just offering to help a neighbor with something.”
She paused but studied me for a few seconds. I wished it wasn’t dark outside because I wanted to see her eyes again. I wanted to find out if they really were silver or if I’d just been seeing things.
“Sorry, I’m a bit defensive about that kind of thing,” she finally answered.
“Defensive about what? Receiving a helping hand?”
A dog across the street started to bark, and when the owner shushed him, Clare answered, “Yeah, I guess. Maybe I’m too proud to receive help or maybe it just hurts because I might actually need it.”
My interest was piqued. I hated sounded like a nosy fucker, but she was out here talking to me and I felt the urge to inquire further.
But it wasn’t in the cards because she turned for her house and said, “Thanks for the chat, but I should get back home. I’m paranoid that this is suddenly broken or something,” she chuckled as she held up the baby monitor.
“What do you need help with, Clare?” I forced myself to ask. She paused and turned around to face me again. “I’m all yours if you need anything.”
She wasn’t married. I was sure of it. No ring on her finger and just the little things adding up. I wasn’t sure if it was one thing or the other, but there was definitely no man living in her house.
“What do I need help with? That’s sometimes the hardest thing to answer,” she replied softly. “But thanks, Matt. Have a good night.”
I watched her leave that time. It was like being drawn to something you feel in your head you shouldn’t spend time on, but she had me hooked in this bizarre way that I couldn’t explain. I felt like I could help her out somehow, but at the same time, I wasn’t going to push it.
For the next week, I tried not to think about it too much. I naturally liked helping people and had never thought twice about someone deeming my intentions to be ill. But when Trent made a comment about Clare probably assuming I was trying to get in her pants, I was somewhat caught off guard. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. All I’d been hinting at was helping her unpack, or helping her move furniture… Hell, I didn’t know what I was offering, but it wasn’t that.
“Well you could use it,” Trent responded with a bit of sarcasm.
We’d finished up a session in the batting cages after work and somehow gotten on the subject of Clare. I guess he asked if I’d seen much of her, so I had recapped my brief interactions with her.
“I could use what?” I asked him. “A hookup? Pssh, no thanks. You know me better than that.”
“All I’m saying is…maybe it’d be good for you.”
Trent and I didn’t exactly talk about the details of my sex life, but I was pretty sure he knew that having sex with women that weren’t Aubrey was not on my to-do list. For some reason it was a subject he never got into with me. He’d make mention of getting laid, or hint at finding a girl with no strings attached, but I would quickly redirect the conversation.
Nope, I haven’t been with anyone since Aubrey. If that’s pathetic as hell, I don’t care. I’m not the type of guy that goes out and screws every female I can, just to get someone out of my head. It wouldn’t have worked anyway, but that’s just not how you prove how much you love someone. Yes, it was my way of remaining faithful to her even though she hadn’t done the same to me, but if she ever came back into my life, I wanted to be able to honestly say there hadn’t been anyone else but her.
Maybe I wasn’t very intelligent, but I sure as hell was loyal.
The whirring sound of the pitching machine brought me back to the present. Trent had restarted it for me, so I took my session pitch by pitch until my turn was up. I traded places with my brother, but before he slid on a batting helmet, he paused and faced me.
“I’m just saying… I can tell you like this girl. Or at the very least, she interests you somehow. Maybe you should just give it a shot, huh? See where it goes.”
He stepped into the cage and lined himself up in the box. I started the next series of pitches for him, but my mind was jumping aro
und all over the place.
Perhaps taking his advice wasn’t a bad idea at this point in my life. Maybe not with Clare since she seemed so aloof…but someone.
5
I guess sometimes life is thrown at you when you least expect it. Or maybe you just need something to kick your ass to get you to move. Either way, it wasn’t but the very next day that I was home in the evening after work and a loud knock sounded at my door.
I was headed to answer it but heard a female voice call my name and say, “It’s Clare! From down the street? If you’re home can you—?”
I pulled the door open and there she was with both girls in her arms. She looked like a frantic mess, but her beautiful eyes—yes, they were silver—were full of worry.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I need to get Sadie to the after hours clinic. She’s had a high fever all day and it keeps spiking. I have a friend coming over to watch Mia for me so I don’t have to take her, but he’s running late and—”
“Yeah, I’ll watch her,” I interrupted. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to drop her off with me or have me watch her at her own house, but I reached my arms out for the little girl in her right arm.
She handed me the other kid instead.
“Here are a few of her things,” Clare handed a bag over. “Just let her eat Cheerios and watch a cartoon if that’s all that will keep her happy. There’s one in the bag.”
“Don’t worry about it, I got it.” I knew I didn’t, though. I had no idea what to do with this kid. In fact, I probably looked like a total idiot holding her awkwardly against me.
“My friend will be here in a minute,” she rushed, readjusting Sadie against her chest. “Like any minute. And he’s- he’s…big and mean and… He’ll be here any minute.”
I got the point. I felt pleased that she actually asked for my help, but yeah, leaving your kid with a guy you barely knew was probably pretty scary.
“Seriously, he’s a police officer and he’s—”
“It’s fine, Clare, she’ll be okay here. Go.” I motioned her away, and even though she paused, I was glad she at least took a deep breath of air.
“Thank you, Matt. My cell phone number is in the front of the bag…”
“Okay,” I nodded, slowly shutting the door so she could leave. But mainly because this little person in my arms was about to throw a fit and I didn’t want anyone to witness me suck at being an adult.
When I had Mia in my living room, I turned her around to get a better look at her. Big mistake. She got one look at my face and let out a shriek that was worse than hearing a guitar string break.
Or three at once.
“Whoa, hey now, you don’t even know me, kid. Give me a chance. Is it my scruff?” I stroked my beard.
She let up a little bit when I set her down on the couch and found the Cheerios as quickly as I could. She’d already thrown herself backward against the cushions in an angry protest and then slowly slid herself to the floor. She just sat there for a few seconds, looking around with a nasty scowl on her face.
Rifling through the bag Clare had handed me, I found the DVD that was tucked inside. But first things first…I found Clare’s phone number on a yellow slip of paper and tucked it in my pocket. I’d hold on to it for safekeeping, of course. You know, in case of emergencies.
Mia was quiet by then, staring/glaring at me from the floor while I put the disc in and started The Little Mermaid. Her expression didn’t change as the movie began, but at least she wasn’t crying. I felt like my brief success should be documented for eternity; I didn’t care if she’d been in my care for less than five minutes.
However, it didn’t last long when she looked at me again and her lower lip began to tremble. I knew a great big wail was going to come out of her and I was already disappointed that I’d failed to keep her content for another five minutes. I was seriously praying to God that whomever Clare had coming to get Mia would get here soon.
I was a horrible human being.
When the crying began, my brain couldn’t think. She had her Cheerios, she had her movie on… Wasn’t that supposed to do the trick? How was I supposed to keep this kid happy and what the hell else could I do for her?
Well, I resorted to the only thing I knew could please an entire room full of people and I grabbed my guitar. It was automatic, I didn’t even think about it or waste time worrying that it would make me sad or angry. I just wanted a freaking toddler to stop crying.
She was still bawling when I set my guitar on my lap—her eyes were squeezed shut, and by this time, she’d thrown herself onto her back—but the second those first few notes hit the air, she immediately stopped and looked at me from where she was sprawled out on the floor. I wasn’t really playing an actual song—just strumming a dainty little melody of some sort—but she cumbersomely pulled herself into a sitting position and listened.
After a minute, she got up and stood next to the guitar and reached for it. I paused and laid it flat on its back on the couch. I showed her how to touch the strings to make her own sounds, and once she realized her chubby little fingers were the cause of each noise, she became obsessed.
For the next ten minutes, all Mia wanted to do was touch that guitar. I tried to distract her with the movie or with more cereal, but she just wanted to touch the guitar. Then she said something to me—toddler is not a language I understand—but when I realized she was trying to pick up the guitar, I did it instead. Then she stood there and waited for a few seconds.
“Pay,” she pointed at me.
“Oh, you want me to play?”
She actually smiled at me. Score another one for Matt. I got a smile from a two-year-old!
So I played again, only this time I picked a nursery song I was pretty sure I knew the words to, and made up the notes to go along with it. I sang “Twinkle Little Star” and Mia was making noises—or trying to sing? —while she bobbed her head from side to side. It was pretty fricken cute, so when the song was over and she instructed me to “pay ‘gan,” I chose another song—ABC’s, everyone knows that, right? —and she did the same thing.
“You’re quite the little rocker, aren’t you?” I joked, thoroughly amused.
She reached forward and plucked a string again. Just watching how intrigued she was with my guitar was kind of fascinating. I know that look in older kids and teenagers when I used to teach down at the community center twice a month, but it was quite a different experience seeing it in a toddler.
Then I heard a not-so-magical sound rip through the back end of her pants. Maybe that look in her eye hadn’t been about the music but pure concentration on the shit she just took in her diaper.
Oh God, a diaper… I checked under her pants and thankfully she was wearing one. And the smell… Jesus, that came out of a little girl?
“Poo-poo,” she announced innocently, staring at me like I didn’t just hear her shit like a grown ass man.
“Uh, yeah, I’d say you probably did.”
She started tugging at her bottoms…. Oh, no way! She was trying to undress herself, which she did pretty quickly because she’d already slid her pants down to her ankles. And then she was bent over awkwardly, gripping at her sagging diaper.
“Oh, no-no-no-no,” I exclaimed, grabbing her hands so she didn’t pull it off and drop a huge load of shit on my carpet.
I was not prepared to change a little girl’s diaper. Clare had said “any minute.” Where was that jackass that was supposed to come watch this kid?
“Poo-poo.”
“Uh huh, yep. You surely did poo-poo.”
I exhaled a breath of air but pulled her pants back up until I could decide how to handle this situation. I’d seriously never changed a diaper before, and it’s not that I couldn’t figure it out if I tried, but I just didn’t want anything to go wrong.
And it would. I just knew it. Me plus kid plus shitty diaper plus lack of experience… Total nightmare.
“Okay, I think I have a plan,” I an
nounced as I stood.
Mia stared up at me with that are-you-gonna-change-me-or-not look on her face.
“So you have extra clothes in the bag, we’ll just take you into the bath tub, strip everything off of you, and hose you down. Sound like a plan?”
She just stared at me, but then started tugging at her clothes again. “Poo-poo.” Her face contorted and I knew she was about to cry.
“Okay, let’s fix the poo-poo,” I agreed. I picked her up under the armpits and held her out from me, away from my body. “Yeah, you stink something fierce. How can such a cute little thing smell that bad?”
Her big blue eyes stared right into mine. “Poo-poo.”
“Yes, got it. I will somehow…fix this…”
I was looking around for the bag I’d put somewhere when there was a knock at the door. I set Mia down so I could answer it, and when I pulled it open, was a bit surprised by the guy standing there. Assuming he was who was picking Mia up, it kind of made me smirk.
Big and mean my ass. This guy was barely five-foot-eight, and at six-one, I felt like I towered over him.
“I’m here for Mia,” he said. “I’m David.”
Realizing Clare hadn’t even given me a name, I looked him over for a second. “You’re not who I was expecting,” I stated casually.
His eyebrows creased and he huffed out a breath of air. “And who were you expecting?”
“I don’t know, Clare never gave me a name. But you don’t match the description she gave.”
“And what description was that?”
Should I? Okay, I probably shouldn’t insult this guy based on Clare’s attempt to intimidate me. I understood her intentions and this guy didn’t deserve my facetious sense of humor.
“She just said you were a cop. Guess I pictured a uniform and all,” I explained lamely. I asked him for identification to be sure, and while he fished it out of his pocket, I glanced back at Mia to make sure she wasn’t trying to take off her diaper again. She was sitting on her butt, holding a stuffed elephant she must have pulled out of the bag.
