by Marisa Logan
“That would be great.” I reached out and squeezed his arm. “You have no idea how much I'd appreciate that.”
“When do you want to get together?”
“Hmm.” I thought about my schedule, but it wasn't as open as last semester's had been. I was in classes Tuesday and Thursday this semester, but my Tuesday chemistry class was a double-length session because of lab time, and it kept me stuck here a bit late in the afternoon. Which had been a deciding factor in letting Ari go home by herself after school.
“Tuesday night after class might be my best day,” I said. “I could stay a little more than an hour after class before I have to get home and make dinner for Ari.”
By “make dinner” I really meant “bring her takeout from the school cafeteria,” but I sounded like a better mom when I pretended that I actually cooked.
“Tuesday works great for me,” Conner said. “We can meet in one of the student lounges.”
“Really?” I gave him a hopeful smile. He might just be saving my ass. “That's awesome.”
We figured out the details, then sat down to listen to the poets read their work. I still hadn't even admitted to Conner that I was starting to write my own poetry. I was determined that my poems would remain hidden until the day I died, then I would specify in my will that they must all be burned and the ashes spread in the gardens of better writers than me.
***
When Tuesday rolled around, my brain was almost completely fried by the end of my chemistry lab. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but the information just wasn't clicking in my brain. I did fine when it came to writing or history. I was even enjoying my psychology class (not to mention figuring out a lot of what was wrong with my family thanks to the chapters on family psychology). But chemistry and I just did not get along.
I headed to the student lounge to meet Conner, but when I got there the place was crowded and noisy. I met Conner near the door and asked, “Any ideas on someplace quieter?”
“The library has private study rooms,” he said. “You can book one for like an hour at a time and have the space all to yourself.”
“Sounds good.”
We walked over to the library and got the key to one of the little study rooms. It was pleasantly quiet inside, which was nice, since I had enough to deal with without having any noisy distractions. Conner did his best to teach me the formulas I needed, though it seemed way easier for him than it was for me. I started getting a headache about halfway through our study session.
“Ugh. I need a break.” I buried my face in my hands, feeling like I might cry if I had to read anything else about electrons and atomic bonds.
“Hey, don't worry so much.” He scooted his chair closer to mine and put an arm around my shoulders. “Just try to relax.”
I wanted to relax, but his sudden proximity made that impossible. I felt warm, and his arm felt really nice holding me like that. I hadn't dated in a long time. A long time. In fact, the last time I'd done more than go on one or two dates with a guy had been with Ariella's father. None of the rare, few men I'd dated in the years since had been that interesting to me, and having a kid was usually a pretty big turnoff for prospective dates.
I lowered my hands to the table, glancing at Conner out of the corner of my eye. I tried to figure out what he was thinking and feeling just then, whether he was just being friendly or if there was something more. I wasn't foolish enough to think that a young man would spend so much time with a girl without having at least some interest in her. They'd said it right in When Harry Met Sally: men and women can't be friends. The warmth I felt radiating through my body right then was proof of that.
But I couldn't think of Conner like that. He was seven years younger than me. He wasn't even old enough to buy alcohol yet, though I knew his birthday was coming up in a month.
My twenty-eighth birthday was also coming up. I did the math—I'd read online somewhere that the minimum age for dating someone was half your age, plus seven. By that standard, Conner was just barely within the limit. And we did have a lot in common.
I knew I was rationalizing. Trying to convince myself that it was okay to do what I already wanted to do. Which was to grab him and kiss him right there. He was sitting so close that I could feel his warmth. He had to be thinking the same thing I was. Guys didn't sit that close when they only thought of you as just a friend.
He started to move away, probably taking my silence as a rejection. I grabbed his hand to stop him from moving. We both sat very still, his arm around me, his other hand holding mine. I tilted my face just a bit towards his. I didn't know whether I should make a move or not. I was sure he'd respond if I did. Just as I was sure he wouldn't be bold enough to make a move without a really clear signal. He'd been hurt too much in the past, by whoever it was that had rejected his tears, for him to be likely to make a move.
Screw it, I thought. He's cute, and I haven't had a man in years.
I turned towards him, slipped a hand behind his head, and pulled him into a kiss. He responded eagerly, pressing his lips against mine.
I had a brief thought that I was glad we were in a private room, before all thoughts vanished and all I could focus on was the kiss.
I pulled back for a moment and leaned to the side, looking out the window between the study room and the main library. There were plenty of people out among the stacks, though none were close enough to pay attention to what we were doing.
He pulled me tighter against him. I could tell that he was ready to go, but I was torn about how far I wanted to take this. I had to think about my daughter, and I had to think about the fact that I hadn't been on birth control for years, since there'd been no need for it for so long. Getting knocked up and having to drop out of school again would ruin everything.
But I didn't want to lose this chance to find out where this relationship could go.
***
“Wow,” Conner whispered. “You are amazing.”
I grinned at him, then my cell phone sounded with an incoming text message.
“Crap,” I said. I grabbed my phone. “It's my daughter.”
“Oh.” Conner's eyes widened. I wondered what he was thinking in that moment. Whether the reminder that I had a kid had suddenly turned him off. But I didn't know how to even begin to bring up such a subject.
I read Ari's text. She was wondering when I was coming home. Which was code for asking me when I was bringing her dinner. I sent her a reply, saying that I was on my way now.
“I need to go,” I said.
“Right.” Conner got up, awkwardly brushing his hands on his pants. I started gathering my things, then paused when he wrapped his arms around me. He held me tight for a long moment, then he whispered in my ear, “You're amazing.”
I smiled at him, then gave him a soft kiss. “We'll talk later. Thursday.”
“Right.” He started gathering up his things, though he still had a blissful look on his face.
I watched him subtly as I packed up my books. There were so many things I wanted to ask him. I didn't know how many girls he'd been with before, or whether he was thinking this was the start of a relationship or just a one time thing. I didn't know if he was prepared for dating a mother. Hell, I didn't even know what would happen when fall came and he transferred to a different school to finish his degree. There were a lot of complications, and now just wasn't the time to deal with them.
After we packed up, Conner walked me to my car. I put my bag in the back seat, then we kissed, and I held him for a few minutes. When we parted I squeezed his hands and said, “We'll talk Thursday. But just so you know, I'm glad this happened. It was really amazing.”
“Definitely,” he said. He had a huge grin on his face, and I couldn't help but smile.
I drove home, and when I got there I threw together a quick dinner made from leftovers I'd brought from the school cafeteria yesterday. Ari made a face at them, probably tired of college cafeteria leftovers by now, but I'd forgotten to stop and pic
k up something fresh on the way home.
She looked at me while we ate, a curious look on her face. I felt my face heating up as I wondered if she could tell what I'd been doing before I came home. She was a smart kid, and we'd had “the talk” a few months ago, so I knew she at least had a grasp of the basics. But there was a big difference between knowing the basic idea of where babies came from, versus finding out your mother had fooled around with a guy in the school library right before she came home.
She didn't say anything, though she gave me a look that convinced me she knew something was up.
She finished her dinner and headed into her room, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my shame. Now that the heat of the moment was over, I couldn't stop wondering if what I'd done made me a bad mother. Sure, plenty of single mothers still dated, but what I'd done didn't qualify as “dating.” I'd fooled around with a guy who was supposed to be helping me cram for my chemistry exam.
I sighed and flopped down on the living room couch. I pulled out my chemistry book, though I couldn't focus on any of the practice questions inside. All I could think about was Conner, and what I was going to do about him.
I didn't think a relationship was even a possibility, but I was afraid that if I rejected him, I was going to end up breaking his already fragile heart.
Chapter 9
All day Thursday, I was distracted by thinking about what I would say to Conner. I had a hard time focusing on my classes, which was especially bad in chemistry, since I was already struggling.
When my last class was finished, I gathered my things and headed for the rec center, still trying to figure out what to say to him. I knew I needed a way to let him down easily. I liked him, and he was sweet, and he'd made me feel really good the other day. But I couldn't get into a committed relationship right now. I had to focus my attention on school, and on my daughter.
When I got to the rec center, I found Conner already waiting for me by the door. Instead of going inside, we walked around to one of the benches alongside the building and sat down.
“How've you been?” he asked.
“Good.” I looked down at my feet, brushing a strand of hair back over my ear. “It's been a busy day.”
He reached out and took my hand. I gave his hand a light squeeze. I opened my mouth to start giving him the speech I'd been practicing, but before I said anything, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and said, “I wrote this for you.”
I took the paper, my mouth suddenly going dry. I slowly unfolded it with trembling fingers. I licked my lips and took a deep breath, then started to read:
I'm never good at forming words when speaking to a girl
My tongue gets tied, my palms will sweat, my thoughts begin to swirl
I try to think but in a blink my words are all but lost
So, I thought, a poem will work to get my words across
You're cute and sweet and always sure
To make me smile wide
For months I've felt your deep allure
Though my feelings I tried to hide
And now I hope these words will tell
Just exactly how I've felt
And you will know I long for you
And that my heart is true.
“I know it's no good,” he said, looking away and rubbing a hand through his hair. “I'm a horrible writer. But I just wanted you to know how I feel.”
I read the poem over a second time, unable to find any words. No one had ever written me a poem before. And while maybe it wasn't exactly Keats, it was really sweet, and it made my heart strum in my chest.
I looked up at him, smiling. My eyes felt a bit misty. I held the poem against my chest.
“Do you...like it?” he asked.
“Yes. Very much.”
I leaned forward and kissed him. Long and slow and sweet. The speech I'd been practicing vanished from my mind. I pulled him close, feeling his warmth, and letting my worries fade away as I was swept up by the kiss.
When we pulled apart he blushed, giving me a bashful smile. “So,” he said, laughing nervously. “I, uhh. I mean. I also wanted to ask. If maybe you'd like to have dinner with me one night soon.”
“I'd love to.”
There was a little voice in the back of my mind reminding me of all the reasons why I shouldn't have been getting involved with anyone right now. But Conner was just so sweet and adorable. I couldn't bear the thought of pushing him away or rejecting him. I didn't know how a relationship would work, or if it even could, but I felt the need to find out.
I kissed him again, then we took a long walk around the campus, hand in hand, enjoying each other's company and talking about what we'd like to do together. I forgot all about the Lyrical Alliance meeting for that day. I'd already read the only poem I needed to see.
* * *
Over the rest of the semester, Conner and I saw each other two or three times each week. Most of the time we got together on campus, either having a meal in the cafeteria, or finding a secluded corner somewhere to fool around.
Some nights, when Ariella was either at her after school art class or spending the evening at her grandfather's, he took me out to dinner or a movie. We ended up missing the ending of the latest Marvel movie when we spent half the film making out in the back row. I felt like a teenager again, though unlike my teenage years, this time I made sure to get on birth control.
By the time the end of the semester rolled around, I was pulling a C average in my chemistry class, and Conner was asking me when he'd get to meet my daughter. We sat in one of the student lounges talking about it one afternoon.
“I mean,” he said, “if you don't want me to, that's fine. I just figured since we've been going out for awhile, I'd like to meet her.”
I toyed with the straw in my drink, thinking it over. “I think I should talk to her about it first. I haven't exactly told her I'm dating someone. I mean, I'm pretty sure she knows, since I never used to stay out late. Not that she minds having some extra time killing alien marines or whatever it is at her grandfather's house.”
“Well, you let me know,” he said. “No pressure.”
When we finished studying for finals that night, I went to pick Ari up from her art class. On the way home I stopped to get us some water ices and we sat out at one of the picnic tables at Rita's so we could talk.
“So, kiddo,” I said. “I've got something to talk to you about.”
“Oh boy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Here we go.”
“Hey! You make me feel like you don't like our mom/daughter talks.”
She sighed and stirred her water ice. “This isn't another sex thing, is it? Cause, eww.”
“No, it's not a sex thing.” I balked at the idea of her asking me about my sex life with Conner. Though I silently promised I would be open and honest, and explain to her about birth control. I just hoped we could avoid that talk for a few more years. At least until she was a teenager.
“So, what's up?” she asked in a bored tone.
“Well, I don't know if you know this, but I've sort of been seeing someone.”
“Yeah, Conner, right?”
I dropped my plastic spoon and stared at her. “Wh-what? How? Ari, how did you...?”
She giggled, a mischievous smile on her face. “Come on, Mom. You use the same password for everything.”
“Have you been reading my emails?” My eyes widened, and I made a mental note to delete a few text messages and pictures from my phone as soon as we got done here.
She shrugged. “Not really. Your emails are boring.”
“You wouldn't know that they're boring unless you've been reading them.”
She shrugged again. “So, do you like this guy?”
I was still reeling over the notion that my ten year old daughter had hacked my email. Not that Conner and I had sent anything illicit over email. He'd sent me a couple of poems and sappy love letters, and a few times he'd sent emails about our dates, like when we were going to the mo
vies and it was easier to email me the list of show times than it was to call or text it. Though I silently prayed that she hadn't gotten into my cell phone. I wasn't ready to explain to her why a grown woman might feel the need to send her boyfriend pictures of herself doing...certain things.
“Yes, I like him. He's really sweet, and he treats me nice.”
She shrugged. “Cool. So do I get to meet him?”
“Do you want to?” I fiddled with my spoon, trying to figure out if she was being so casual about this because she just didn't care, or because she was in some kind of denial.
“Sure. Does he play video games?”
“I...I don't know.” I pursed my lips together in thought. Conner had never mentioned video games, but I wasn't a gamer, so I'd certainly never brought it up. He certainly seemed like the type, though.
“How about I invite him over for dinner one night?” I asked. “A real dinner. I'll cook.”
She gave me an uncertain look. “You're going to cook? Like, actually cook, not microwaving?”
“Yes.” I gave her an offended look. “I can cook.”
She snorted and shook her head. “Mom, the last time you cooked was french toast Christmas morning. And you burnt it.”
I pouted, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “Well, I'll cook something else. Spaghetti. You like my spaghetti.”
She shrugged, tilting up her water ice cup to slurp up the slush in the bottom. I sighed, glad that she was so nonchalant about my dating life.
I'd been expecting more of a dramatic affair, possibly with denials of “He's not my father!” Though I wasn't sure if “father” was really part of Ari's vocabulary. She hadn't seen her father since she was in diapers, and the only contact she had with him was once or twice a year when he called her from jail. She never even talked about him, or asked me why he was in jail. I dreaded the day she found out her father was on the national sex offender's registry.
“Can we go home?” Ari asked.
“Yeah. Okay.”
I finished the rest of my water ice, earning myself a brain freeze for rushing. We headed home, I did a deep cleaning of my cell phone's picture gallery and text messages, then I texted Conner and invited him to dinner.