by Rossi, Carla
When she returned to the living room, she was surprised to see Rocky had already transferred to the couch. He hadn’t changed his clothes or removed his shoes.
“I thought you were going to get comfortable. Didn’t you want to change?”
“I took off my belt and washed up,” he said. “Everything else is too much trouble. I’ll get undressed when I go to bed.”
She’d wondered about that belt the other day when she watched him center the buckle at his waist. Why would he need to mess with a belt if he didn’t have to worry about his pants falling down? It was the same day she contemplated why he had so many shoes. But if she lost the use of her hand, wouldn’t she still paint all ten nails to match the other hand and complete the look? Conclusion: He needed certain shoes and certain belts to complete certain looks. She should be happy he was conscious of such things.
“I hope you’re not changing your routine because of me. You should be comfortable in your own home.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve been known to lie on this couch in my boxers and eat a whole pizza. Have to tell ya that will probably happen again.”
“Fair enough.”
He turned slightly and rearranged the pillow behind his head. “C’mon,” he said. “Cuddle up. You promised.”
She moved her hair to one side and prepared to inch her way onto the narrow space. It wasn’t weird or anything, but they’d never tried to lie down together before and she couldn’t tell if they could pull it off now. The spongy couch did not cooperate.
He pulled her into his arms as if she weighed nothing. “This couch is getting old and saggy,” he said. “Hard for two people to stretch out.”
“Exactly how many women have you tried to stretch out with on this thing?”
“Not nearly enough.”
“I’d smack you if I wasn’t trying to hold on.”
“I’m kidding. Don’t waste a good punch.” He moved again. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” She rested her head on his chest and put an arm across him. “Perfect.” She pressed her legs alongside his and couldn’t help but notice how much longer his were. It was another thing she’d wondered about. How tall was he? She imagined his big, powerful body on the football field. What a presence he must have been. She made a mental note to look around for pictures.
“Do we recycle?”
“Yes. Bin’s in the garage. They take it with the trash every Thursday.”
“I have a garbage bag and some plastic in there by the door.”
“I’ll take everything out when I leave in the morning.”
O—K. So he wasn’t going to give her a pass to the garage. “Thanks. There’s no more cake so don’t get your hopes up at breakfast.”
“Yes, there is. I saw some in the freezer.”
“Don’t touch that. It’s for our first anniversary. You’re supposed to freeze the top and eat it in a year.”
“Who told you that?”
“No one had to tell me that. It’s the law. I’m warning you, Rocky, don’t mess with that cake.”
“What are you going to do, call the wedding cake police?”
“No more police,” she said and jabbed him in the side. “Stay away from the cake.”
He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “What’s your news?”
“I have a job interview tomorrow. Probably not my dream job, but it’ll do. It’s at the community rec center.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m not sure. They have day camps all summer for kids. I’m willing to check it out. I also filled out an online application to be a substitute teacher. If all else fails I can stay busy doing that come August. And lastly, I talked to a detective today. I’m filing a report about the assault. It’s all I can do, and I need to do it on the outside chance it will help someone in the future. You were right about that and I could still kick myself for not paying attention to those letters I received at camp. Those could have been evidence.”
“Water under the bridge, babe.”
“I know. I’m thinking I want to do something else, but we can talk about that another time. Now back to you. How was your day? Were you brilliant?”
“I tried to be, but I spent too much time thinking about you. I’ll try to do better tomorrow.”
She smiled and nuzzled his neck. His scratchy whiskers couldn’t deter her from getting closer, especially since he smelled so good. “That’s very sweet, but you need to concentrate at work.”
“Speaking of concentrating, I’m not going to be able to talk to you about our parents if you keep doing that.”
She stopped mid-nuzzle. “Right. So what did my dad say to you?”
“It was nothing. He was curious about the usual stuff, my job, where I went to school. My dad jumped in and we got on to football and touched on my injury. He wanted to know if I owned this house.”
“That’s nosy. Did you tell him?”
“He has a right to know if his daughter is going to have a roof over her head, so yes, I told him all about it. It’s not much, but no one can take it away from us. Your dad’s not that bad. I found him very charismatic and personable. No wonder he has a huge congregation. I kinda liked the guy once we got to talking.”
“I’m sure he likes you, too. It’s me he has a problem with.”
“Let it go, Gia. Your parents love you. Maybe this is a time for a new beginning.”
“Maybe. They’re probably discussing this baby’s paternity as we speak. I couldn’t tell where they ended up on that matter.”
“Who cares? But if it bothers you, maybe you should tell them the truth. As I’ve said before, they’re your parents. They’ll be there for you.”
“No... I have this terrible fear my father would say I got what I deserved.”
“This has to stop, Gia. You’re letting your anger get the best of you and that’s not healthy. There’s no way he would say that.”
She processed the ugliness of what she’d suggested. “I know. That sounded horrible. You’re right. I didn’t realize it was so bad.”
He shifted again and pulled her closer. “So how’d it go with the mothers? We heard cackling. Thought we were next door to a slumber party.”
“Oh yeah, those two are like long-lost sisters or something. They hit it off immediately.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes, but they did almost give me a heart attack when your mom asked my mom if they were driving back to Dallas tonight. She said no, that they would be staying over due to exhaustion. So your mom decides to tell my mom what a nice guest room you have. Mercifully, my mom jumped in and said she wouldn’t dare spend the night with us newlyweds. Then your mom apologized because she realized she was extending invitations when the new lady of house was sitting right there and all I could think about was how was I going to explain my mess in there and get the sheets changed for company.”
“I get it. Take a breath.”
“This story ends with us meeting my parents for breakfast in the morning if you have time.”
“I’ll make time.”
“Otherwise, we had great girl-talk. Those two became fast friends and were willing to talk about anything. And I mean anything.”
“Like what?”
“Sex. And food. But mostly they wanted to gross me out with sex talk.”
“You don’t mean like the birds and the bees ‘cause, well...”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Was my mom trying to give you helpful advice of a personal nature regarding my injury? If so, she has to die.”
Gia laughed. “No, it wasn’t like that. She only touched on your special needs—”
“I don’t have that many special needs. I do what I want. All you need to know is to not hide my Chips Ahoy in the top cabinets, don’t get any ideas about puttin’ down a bunch of throw rugs that I’ll get tangled up in, and don’t move anything out of my reach in the shower.”
“Understood.”
“And by the
way, I’ve been meaning to tell you I have a really nice shower. Me and my dad put in this big spa-like stall with a built-in seat and all kinds of water jets and a couple of wands and a heat lamp and a rain shower head. It’s cool. You should try it.”
“You can stop with all the fancy courtin’ talk, cowboy. I already married you.”
He scooped her up so fast it took her breath. In one second, she was sprawled on top of him, nearly nose-to-nose. She let out a squeal and then laughed.
“Are you making fun of my shower?” He pinned her to him with one arm while he threatened to tickle her with the other.
“No, I’m making fun of the way you fondly talk about your shower.”
“Hey, that shower is awesome. You’ll talk about it too once you use it.”
She threaded her arms around his neck and planted tiny kisses on his cheek.
He seemed to respond, but then abruptly moved to something else. “Hang on a minute. Can you reach my phone?”
She dangled off the edge of the couch and retrieved it from the coffee table. “Um... Are you comfortable? Do I need to move?”
“Nope. Stay there. I have something to show you.”
She rested her chin on his expansive chest and waited.
“Here. I found this app.”
He turned the display her way. It was so close she had to move a bit to focus. A video started and a tiny body wiggled on the screen.
“Awww...,” was all she could say.
“I plugged in all your data, and this app sends a weekly update and a video. This baby is at nine weeks and it says he’s about the size of a peanut and weighs about two grams.”
“My app doesn’t have a video,” she lamented. “All it tells me is what my body is doing and what I should and shouldn’t be eating.”
“We’ll get you this one. It’s much more fun. According to this, our peanut is already movin’ and shakin’. He could wrap his fingers around something—if there was something in there to grab—and he has fingerprints.”
She gazed at the miracle for a long time. He hit the replay button twice.
“I have a confession,” she finally said. “I need to tell you I don’t think our peanut is a he peanut. I think it’s a she peanut.”
“What?”
“You keep saying he, and I’m pretty sure it’s a she. As in a pink peanut versus a blue peanut.”
“What makes you think that?”
She shrugged. “I just know. It’s a feeling I have.”
“Well, as much as I trust womanly feeling stuff, I’m going to hold out for more information.”
“Fine. We’ll wait and see. I think we should pray for the peanut.”
“OK,” he said and held her tight.
They made their way through a tired prayer, mentioning their family and friends, and seeking God’s provision for the pink or blue peanut.
“Amen,” she said. “You should get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“I will, but I want to see the sports.”
He reached for the remote, but by the time Gia heard the score of the Astros game, he’d fallen asleep.
She tossed the crocheted blanket over him.
And then knelt to remove his shoes and socks.
14
Gia entered her code on the keypad at the back door of the community rec center and then went to clock in. Today she would be supervising twelve second graders as they participated in a culinary arts class—also known as cupcake baking from a box mix—in preparation for the center’s own patriotic version of Cupcake Wars. From there she was supposed to take a turn in arts and crafts, and finish her day as a judge for the Fourth of July door decorating contest.
She would love every minute of it.
She put her lunch in the refrigerator and greeted other employees who milled around the staff kitchen area.
“Hey, Gia,” someone said. “Coach was asking if you’d come in yet. He’s probably still up in the office.”
She checked her watch. She wasn’t late, and she’d only been employed for nine days. If she was in trouble, she didn’t know why.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll try and catch him there.”
Coach was tall—like professional basketball player tall—and he always had a whistle around his neck. Some female staff said he was an attractive cross between Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant, and Gia wondered who had time at work to do such specific facial analysis.
She’d seen Coach in passing the last three days but they’d only spoken briefly twice. Though he was her direct supervisor and the man in charge of the youth department, it was the executive director who’d hired her on the spot while Coach was on vacation. Perhaps he wanted to get to know her better. Those second grade pastry chefs were his responsibility, after all. One should know who’s keeping an eye on them.
He spotted her through the glass doors of the youth services suite and waved her in as he disappeared into his own private office.
Misty, the eighteen-year-old behind the receptionist desk, waved at her, too. “Wait up, Gia.” She stretched toward a box behind her. “Here are the two staff t-shirts you ordered. One pink and one green.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” she said. “There’s also a box of used shirts in the lunch room. They’re from staff who have quit. Help yourself.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I think it’s full if you know what I mean.”
Gia nodded. “Awesome, thanks.”
“Is that mineral powder foundation you wear? Your skin is always glowing. But in a good healthy way. Not in an oil slick way.”
Gia absently touched her cheeks. If she was glowing it was because mini white-hot hormonal volcanos were shooting fire out of her pores. She read this could soon be followed by a pregnancy zit explosion to end all zit explosions.
Yaaaayyyyy...
“Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t wear much makeup to work. It melts off my face in the heat. It’s probably my tinted sunscreen.”
“Misty,” Coach called. “Everyone else has work to do. Don’t you?”
Misty made a face and put her hand on her computer mouse. “Yes, sir.”
Coach, who was probably around forty-years-old, stood and greeted her with a cordial handshake and motioned for her to sit. She spotted her resume on his desk. He picked it up and looked at it and then studied his laptop screen for a few more seconds.
“So,” he said and leaned back in his chair. “How is it we snagged you away from Towering Pines in the middle of the summer?”
Well. It wasn’t exactly a trick question, but...
His hearty laugh was too loud for the little room. He tented his fingers in front of him. Yes, she was sure the man could palm a basketball, maybe two.
“Let me rephrase that.” He looked at her resume again. “You are overqualified for the position the executive director hired you for. I’ve got three e-mails here from other staff who have spotted you doing something phenomenal with the kids and were so impressed they had to share it. That doesn’t happen around here, Gia, especially in a short amount of time. I’ll be honest. This place is a mess. I took over this department a year ago and it’s been slow-going. Good employees are hard to find and keep with what we can pay. Granted, I have some key staff who uphold the standard and make us look good, but this is a hard population and community to serve. Some of these kids don’t have a safe place to sleep or enough food. So again, being brutally honest, a professional like you could work anywhere. Why here?”
“Well, sir—”
“Coach is fine.”
“Well, Coach.” She shifted in her chair. “Honesty, right?”
“Speak freely.”
“All right. First of all, I don’t believe you can be overqualified to work with kids. That’s never made sense to me. How can you know too much to handle a six-year-old? As for Towering Pines, I wish I could have finished the summer. I miss it. I enjoyed taking the lead there, training staff, and helping develop ideas,
but I’m recently married and my husband’s home is here. The timing was right to make the move. It would have been my last summer anyway. There’s not a full time job with benefits for me there.”
“Congratulations on your marriage. I didn’t know you were a newlywed.”
“Thank you. Regarding my work here, I needed a job and no one else made an offer. I love to work with children. In fact, I intend to continue my education and specialize in children’s psychological care.”
“There are occasionally other positions in our system here. Program coordinators, things of that nature.”
“I know. I’ve applied, and now I have my foot in the door as they say. Maybe something will open up.”
“Anything with city, county, or federal funds moves slow, but don’t give up.”
“I won’t.”
“There’s another reason I wanted to visit with you.”
“Yes?”
“How are you with angsty thirteen-year-olds?”
“My specialty,” Gia said and laughed. “Why?”
He scooted his chair forward and moved his laptop aside so he could rest his arms on his desk. “I wasn’t on vacation last week. Wanted to be, but my wife and I had to travel to Tennessee with our seven and nine-year-old daughters to move my nephew back with us. At least temporarily.”
“I see.”
“It’s a bad situation. My sister is either not able or not willing to give him the care he needs. He sustained some major injuries two years ago in a car accident that killed his biological father. There are some physical disabilities, but he should be participating in his own care and his own life a lot more than he is. He has shut down.”
“Is he enrolled in any of the scheduled activities for the day campers?”
“Not yet. I’ve brought him to work with me a couple times in hopes he’d make friends and want to take part, but so far he’ll only hang in that game room. This whole building is ADA compliant. We don’t have any specific programs for kids with disabilities, but we don’t turn anyone away providing they can safely participate. Believe me; Ty could participate if he wanted to.”
“What would you like me to do?”
