by A. F. Henley
"Madison was an asshole. And a whore." Aubrey handed her credit card to the waitress without even bothering to check the interior of the proffered billfold. "That you managed to keep him as long as you did is medallion worthy. Monuments should be built to your patience and forgiving nature." She gestured wildly, "Fucking sonnets should be written. Musical scores—"
"I get it," Ian waved her off. "Not only am I am obsessive-compulsive boor who can't hold anyone's attention, I'm also an idiot."
"Your words, not mine," she grinned.
"I loved him."
"I know, hon." Her voice softened. "Life's a bitch."
Ian huffed a half-chuckle. "Just like Maddie."
"Zing!" Aubrey trailed her finger through the air with a laugh. "That's much better! Now, let's make our mood swing official and go get shoes or something.
Ian lifted his glass of wine, drained it, and stood with a flourish. "After you, m'lady."
She followed suit, flicking her hair back dramatically and clinging to his arm. "Why thank you, sir."
They ignored the other patrons as they sashayed to the exit.
*~*~*
The mall was busy. Saturday always brought a mind-blowing mishmash of characters: the quiet and the studious, the loud and obnoxious, the mothers with the strollers, the fathers escaping weekend chores, the seniors and the teenagers. Ian was one of the few who didn't mind the chaos in the least. He spent far too much time holed up in his office with no one to keep him company but for the occasional intrusion of the IT guy. And that was only for as long as it took to get whatever might be that day's rant off said specialist's chest before he'd fling himself back into the hall and get on with his day. Ian, on the other hand, wasn't a wanderer. He did what he did far too easily in life–he hid. Which meant he got a lot accomplished, and that he was the guy that was always there when someone important came looking; both things that boded very well for his career. But it was a lonely way to spend one's days when one came home to nothing as well. At least when Maddie had still been around, Ian had someone to talk to. He'd been someone to cling to on those days when there was no choice but to succumb to the urge to bury against someone. For too many months, life had been damn quiet.
So he relished the noise, the shoves, the "excuse mes" and the wailing. He was smiling while he sidestepped wheels and heels and the skateboarder that shot him the finger. He didn't even mind playing mule to Aubrey's seventeen billion satchels and bags. Because he was out! With people! He'd managed to slip through work-managed and self-imposed security and though he most likely looked like a captured stowaway, blinking in newfound sunlight and smiling nervously, he was free for the moment.
They stopped to grab a coffee while the crowd made its slow personnel changes from day staff to evening, as the families began to trail away and get replaced by a younger, louder crew, and watched an overly-chlorinated fountain trickle listlessly while they chatted about next to nothing.
It was the shriek that caught Ian's attention. There was an animalistic quality to it that made him, and most of the food court, turn heads and shocked glances to see what was killing what. Surprisingly, no dragons cast looming shadows over prey; no reptilian beasts bared fangs or claws. Rather, a simple child, young, tiny, tow-headed and straight-faced, stood beside the glass elevator doors and verbally expressed the emotion that didn't make it to his face. Rage, apparently. At the same time, a taller version of the boy stood above, trying to soothe and quiet. Ian's eyebrows rose in time to the widening of his eyes.
"Holy. Shit."
"No, I know, right?" Aubrey's lip curled in distaste. "Children. How awful."
Ian shook his head. "No, I mean, holy shit it's him."
"Him, who?"
"Him, the kid from the bar. Jordan." Even Ian heard the reverence in his voice as he spoke the name. Yet as embarrassed as he was by it, the tone had come without intention.
"Please tell me you don't mean the child screaming," Aubrey teased. "'Because that would just be all kinds of icky."
Ian sighed and shot her a look of disgust. "The other one, of course. His ... I don't know? Brother?"
"Father?" Aubrey suggested.
"Resemblance ..." Ian tilted his head.
"Agreed."
Another shriek echoed through the food court and Ian watched Jordan cringe and drop closer to the child.
"You should go say hello," Aubrey said, gathering handles into her fist, but Ian was already lifting himself from the chair. "Okies," she called after him. "I'll just be here. Getting all this stuff. Don't worry about me or anything."
Ian had already stopped listening. His brain was too busy trying to detail the differences between coincidence and fate while rushing to assure Ian that deities had not, in fact, suddenly opened portals in blue skies that promised to lead him towards destiny.
He couldn't hear the words being mumbled to the child, but he could tell they were being pleaded desperately. They seemed to fall on completely deaf ears, the child staring straight up at the windowed ceiling, expressionless, either mystified or stupefied.
Ian cleared his throat. "Hi, there?"
The reply came so swiftly and matter-of-factly that Ian flinched. "We're fine, thank you."
"No ... right ... I mean ..." Ian swallowed hard and tried again. "I mean, hello. Hi. Again."
Jordan tossed a look his way and turned back to the boy without a single flicker of recognition. "Thank you, we're ..." Jordan paused, tilted his head and slowly turned back to Ian. Frustration was replaced by a sputter of surprise that was quickly shut down. "We're fine."
At a loss for anything else to do, Ian extended his hand. "Ian. From the bar?"
Jordan stood, his jaw tightening. "I know."
Aubrey's voice broke the all-but-nonexistent conversation. "Yeah, so I got everything." She smiled up at Jordan with her most fetching grin. "Oh, hiya. I'm Aubrey."
A smirk twisted the side of Jordan's mouth. He lifted an eyebrow at Ian. "Your wife?"
"My—" Ian shut down his reply, turned to Aubrey and gave her a puzzled look until she shrugged back at him. He turned in confusion back to Jordan. "I'm gay. I mean, you know that."
Another unreadable expression, similar to the one Ian had seen in the bathroom, crept over Jordan's face and for just a moment Ian wondered if Jordan had mental issues. He looked down at the child staring blankly–were those kinds of things hereditary?
"Thank fuck," Jordan hissed suddenly and Ian whipped his attentions back. Had that been for him?
"I've been watching for like, half an hour," Jordan grumbled, brushing past Ian like he was a ghost.
A tired, bored young woman met Jordan's advance. She swung a dirty toddler from one hip to the next. "Hey, Jordan. Hey, Cole. Sorry. I tried to get here quicker but the bus schedule was all fucked up. I wouldn't even be here if you got yourself a damn phone."
"What do you me—"
"I can't watch him, Jordan," the girl said. "I got called in to work tonight. My mom's coming over to watch Emma but she said she's not looking after Cole. He's too much for her."
Jordan lifted both arms in a gesture of astonishment. "Chrissy, I'm expected at work in half an hour!"
Chrissy shrugged and shifted the baby again. "Sorry. Nothing I can do. You'll have to deal." She let a small smile light her face and nodded at both Ian and Aubrey before her expression fell flat again. "And get yourself a goddamn phone. I can't keep running across town just because I need to tell you something."
"You could have told me before I left the apartment, for fuck's sake. We live two doors down from each other, Chrissy!" The same desperate tone Ian had heard as Jordan spoke to Cole was back in Jordan's voice. But to infinite degrees. "You said you were going to be here! You said to meet you here! So I dragged Cole all over the fucking place and now you're not even going to watch him?"
"I didn't know then or I would have," Chrissy snarled.
"I never do this to you!" Jordan's voice cracked. "Damn it, Chrissy, I have to work."<
br />
Chrissy snorted. "And now you have to deal. I'm not gonna turn down a shift anymore than you would. Figure it out."
As she walked away, her small frame swinging under the weight of the child, Jordan's hands were shaking.
"I'll take him."
Ian regretted the words the moment he spoke them. Aubrey stared at him like he'd sprouted a second head and Jordan glared at him like he'd just been notified that Ian was the devil incarnate. Only Cole remained impassive.
Jordan grunted. "That's not going to happen."
"Why? What's wrong with me?" Ian asked, wounded by both intonation and expression.
"I don't even know you, moron."
"Didn't seem to stop you at the bar," Aubrey said in sing-song and Ian glowered.
"I'll have you know," Ian said, smug doing its best to mask insulted. "I'm a damn nice guy."
"Sure," Jordan nodded. "Like all serial killers and pedophiles say just before they snatch their victims."
"Wait ... what? Why would you even say that?"
"Well you did have sex with him in the bathroom of a bar," Aubrey murmured behind him. "And he is half your age."
"Just one minute there, missy," Ian hissed, only half-joking with his tone. "He hit on me. And I made sure he was legal first."
"Ah," she folded her hands in front of her and nodded at Jordan. "Proper gentleman then."
"I'm not ... I'm just saying ..." Ian shook his head. "This is ridiculous."
"Yes," Jordan agreed. "Yes, it is. Dude, I don't care if you're the second coming. I'm not going to let you walk away with my kid. Even I, as simple as I am, know that's a big no-no."
"I'm with a woman!" Ian insisted.
"So was Bernardo."
Ian opened his mouth to argue but forced himself to snap it shut. He folded his arms over his chest and stared at Jordan. "True enough. Well said."
"Thank you," Jordan frowned. "I think." He flicked an anxious glance at Cole who stood, unmoving, still staring. "Anyway, we'll be fine. You two have a nice day."
"Wait," Ian said quickly, his voice far louder and much higher than he'd intended it to be. He winced when the little guy flinched noticeably. "What about after? When you get done? We could go grab something to eat or …"
Jordan was already shaking his head as Ian's words trailed off. "Thanks but no thanks."
"Another night then?"
"Nope." Jordan reached for the little boy's hand and spoke sharply. "Cole, eyes on me. Give me your sleeve, please."
"A movie then?"
Jordan didn't bother to say no again. "Cole, now please."
Cole's eyes never left the ceiling as he inched closer and lifted his arm towards Jordan. In a move that made Ian frown with confusion, Jordan secured the cuff of Cole's sleeve and held Cole by hooking his pointer finger underneath the fabric.
"The park?" Ian tried. "The three of us? It's supposed to be a beautiful weekend ..."
They didn't even wait for Ian to finish speaking. Jordan's steps were clipped and determined. Cole toddled beside, paying no attention whatsoever to direction or footfall.
"Dee-nied," Aubrey chuckled. "Should we stop and get some ointment for that burn, or what?"
"And you're what? Fourteen now?" Ian snapped. Just as quickly he sighed, lifted his hand to stop her retort and hung his head. "No, I already know. That was uncalled for. And I'm sorry."
Aubrey sighed and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Oh my, baby. You'll never learn will you? Always letting yourself fall too hard and too fast." She kissed his cheek. "Let's get out of here. I have wine back at the house?"
He flicked a glance down the corridor. "Wine is good. A sledgehammer to beat my brains out might be better."
Da Capo
Ian was staring at the sprig of rapini in his fist, wondering why he wasn't just buying broccoli, when he first heard the voice. It wasn't that he had a specific hatred for rapini, he was telling himself in silence; it just seemed a little overdone. Four dollars for the "idea" of something cool when he could get an entire head of almost the same thing for a quarter of the cost, and for that reason alone the vegetable seemed a touch elitist …
"Hey," the voice repeated, closer to Ian's ear and more insistent.
He looked up with a scowl, ready to growl something about "waiting their damn turn" and cocked his head at the young woman with the toddler on her hip.
"Remember me?"
There was no welcoming smile. There was no I'm-so-happy-to-see-you familiarity; just the darkly circled, exhausted eyes so common among the very young that were burdened with the weight of parenthood.
Ian offered her a smile. "Of course I do. I don't recall the name but you're Jordan's babysitter, right?"
She shrugged. "Chrissy. And Emma." She tilted her hip to draw attention to the child. "And kinda. We sit for each other actually. You live around here?"
"Kinda," he grinned the parroted word back at her. "I'm one of those old farts that actually dig through their flyers for deals. So I make my rounds of the entire supermarket circuit." He circled his arms dramatically.
She stared at him, straight-faced.
Ian folded his expression into a serious one. "For example," he said, shaking the handful of leaf and vegetable. "Rapini: for the low-low price of still way too goddamned expensive."
"So just get broccoli," she said in monotone.
"You know, I was just thinking the same thing myself—"
"So, yeah," Chrissy cut in, her impatience with his attempts at conversation obvious. "I was just thinking, since you're here and all, that you might want to give me a ride back to my apartment." She leveled her gaze with his suddenly blank one. "You do have a car, right?"
Without waiting for him to reply she continued, "They've got juice on sale if you buy the case. It's real cheap. But I can't very well load up on it, carry her," she nodded at the babbling child, "and still fight my way over the bus system. I'm good, but I'm no freaking Black Widow if you know what I mean?"
Ian tilted his head at the reference, confused.
"Let me guess, you haven't seen the movie."
Apparently not, he thought, as his brain was still trying to make a comparison between a juice-juggling, hip-slung mom and a Soviet sniper-slash-spy with skills in weaponry and martial arts. Somewhere, somehow, he knew he was missing something.
"I don't think—"
"It's real close. Only like … five minutes by car. Tops."
He shook his head. "I don't have a car seat?"
Chrissy shrugged. "There aren't any car seats on the bus either. That doesn't stop me from getting on it."
"No, I suppose that's true but—"
She smirked. "Jordan might be home."
"J—" And just like that Ian's heart was skipping in his chest.
"Are you kidding me?" his brain scoffed.
"Was she serious?" his belly chimed in.
"Do it!" his conscience bellowed.
Ian cleared his throat, cocked his head and attempted suave. "Jordan?"
She rolled her eyes. "Save it. I know the whole story."
Ian gave up on the rapini, dropped it back on the shelf, and tried to keep the bite out of his voice as he replied. "Oh you do, do you? And what story would that be?"
She shifted the child from hip to hip. "That he was looking for a fuck and found you. He said you looked like the perfect little out-for-a-fling suburbia husband and that you'd fuck him and then fuck off. Then he said you went all stalker on his ass."
Ian frowned. His jaw tightened. "Asking someone out is what we refer to as stalking these days?" He stepped around Chrissy and picked up a head of broccoli, dropping it in his buggy with a clang. "I was unaware. My apologies."
"Dude," she said, stopping his buggy with one hand. "Relax. That's exactly what I said. Jordan's just ..." She paused, circling her hand and shrugging. "Odd. Doesn't know when he's got a good thing on the line. God knows I'd take you for a roll if you were into girls. You look like you got some pretty good cash. It'
s a damn shame actually."
Ian smiled coldly. "Damn shame, indeed."
"And you seem like a nice guy. But I'm mean, there're a lot of nice guys out there. You seem like you got a little extra going on." She grinned. "A deluxe package, you know?"
"Apparently not," he said. "If you'll excuse me—"
Chrissy's face fell. "Aw, come on! Don't make me walk. I get you care less about a chick like me but think about Emma. I'm not trying to buy frigging ice cream here. It's juice for God's sake!" She attempted a cute pout. "Help a girl out."
Ian snorted. "And then I show up at your apartment, where Jordan obviously is from the sounds of things, and I'm getting arrested for harassing some poor, innocent young guy who thinks stalking is asking him out on a date. No thanks."
"He's not there-there, he's just kind of there. I mean, he lives in the building but not in my apartment. I was just going to show you which apartment was his. You can't get arrested just for being in someone's hallway."
Chrissy ran her free hand through her hair and shifted the baby yet again. "Besides, calling the cops would be the last thing Jordan would ever do. He doesn't like them. He avoids them like the plague."
Emma reached forward and began to bang on the wire of the buggy, her grinning, slightly snotty face as bright as sunshine.
"A fucking stalker," Ian's wounded pride pouted.
"Juice for the baby," his conscience countered and Ian sighed.
"Which direction is it?"
*~*~*
If the elevator hadn't been broken, Ian wouldn't have had to help walk the cases up the stairs. If Emma hadn't started squawking, he would have been able to just leave them at the door and could have bee-lined it back to his car. If Chrissy had been able to calm the suddenly irate child, Ian wouldn't have felt it necessary to step in and help. Which meant he wouldn't have found himself stuck there for fifteen minutes while he re-sang the same line of Hush Little Baby over and over as it was, quite literally, the only lyrics in the entire song that he knew. It was, however, surprisingly effective. Not only did the little baby hush, she fell asleep in his arms. And that had him thinking all kinds of warm and happy thoughts.
