“We have plenty of help. I don’t have a whole lot to move, anyway. But I’ll FaceTime you tomorrow night and show you my new place after we’re finished.”
“I’d like it better if I could see it in person.”
She grins. “When’s your next day off?”
“I have an early day on Wednesday. I could drive to you…we could order take-out. Can’t spend the night this time, but I could stay a few hours.”
“That sounds good. I’ll cook for you,” she says.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a home-cooked meal?”
She smiles again and then follows her smile up with a sigh. I open my mouth to tell her how pretty she looks, but I’m interrupted when Justice walks into the room. “Hey, buddy,” I say, looking up from my phone. “You feeling okay?”
Justice nods but doesn’t look at me. He walks to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator.
“I’ll let you go,” Maggie whispers, pulling my attention back to my phone.
I smile appreciatively at her. “Call me tomorrow when you’re all settled.”
“I will. Goodnight.”
I stare at her a moment, not quite ready to end my conversation with her. But I also don’t want to be on the phone with her while Justice is in the room. “Goodnight, Maggie,” I whisper. She waves and then ends the call. I toss my phone on the couch and then walk into the kitchen with Justice.
He’s standing with the refrigerator door open, and he’s opening a slice of American cheese. He takes a bite out of it, leaving the slice dangling from his mouth while he grabs the deli meat. He pulls out a slice of ham and shoves it in his mouth, along with the rest of the slice of cheese.
“It would be easier if you just let me make you a sandwich,” I offer.
Justice grabs the bag of ham and closes the fridge. “I couldn’t wait that long. I feel like I might die of starvation.” He grabs a bag of chips and sits down at the bar with the ham in front of him. He opens the bag of chips and puts a few in his mouth. “Who were you talking to?”
“I take it you’re feeling better.”
“If you count starving to death as feeling better. Who were you talking to?” he repeats.
“Maggie.”
“The same girl you went to see in the hospital?”
This is why I didn’t want to be on the phone with her while he was in the room. He doesn’t shy away from anything. And I’m a big believer in being honest with him, so I nod. “Same one.”
“Why was she in the hospital?”
“She has Cystic Fibrosis.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It is. You should research it.”
Justice rolls his eyes because he knows I’m being serious. Every time he asks a question that I tell him to research, I always follow up with him the next day to make sure he did. Then I correct him on anything he learned that was inaccurate. That’s the downside of Google. There’s a lot of information, but you have to know how to weed through the bullshit. I think that’s really why I always have him research answers to a lot of his questions—so that he can learn how to properly navigate the bullshit.
“Is Maggie your girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“But you’ve had sex with her?”
The combination of my eleven-year-old asking if I’ve had sex with someone while chewing on a mouthful of ham is both odd and entertaining. “What?”
“You mentioned something about not being able to spend the night with her again. Which means you’ve spent the night with her before. Which probably means you’ve had sex with her because Cody says that’s what adults do when they spend the night with each other.”
“Cody is eleven. He isn’t always right.”
“So that’s a no?”
I feel guilty because I’m currently wishing Justice were still in bed sick. “Can we put this conversation on pause until you’re about fourteen?”
Justice rolls his eyes. “You say you like that I’m a curious kid, but then you never want to feed my curiosity.”
“I like that you’re curious. I like feeding your curiosity. But sometimes you’re too hungry.” I open the refrigerator and grab him a water. “Drink this. You haven’t had enough liquid today.”
Justice grabs the water from me. “Fine. But on my fourteenth birthday, be prepared to revisit this conversation.”
I laugh. God, I love this kid. But at this rate, I’m not sure I’ll make it until he’s fourteen. His curiosity is going to kill the cat. I’m the cat.
“You want me to make you something else to eat?”
Justice nods and closes the deli meat. “I’ll take some cinnamon toast. Can we watch Signs?”
I want to tell him no because the idea of watching one of his favorite movies for the twentieth time sounds excruciating. But I know before long, the last thing he’ll want to do is watch movies with his dad. As a father, I’ve learned to take what I can get while I can get it, because none of the phases a child goes through last forever. Eventually, the things you once found repetitive and irritating become the very things you’d give anything to repeat.
“Yeah, we can watch Signs. Get it started while I make your toast.”
I scan the radio stations in search of a song I can sing to. I’m in the mood to sing. My windows are down, the weather is gorgeous, and it occurred to me on my way home from work that I haven’t been in the mood to sing at the top of my lungs in my car in a long time. I don’t know if it’s because of the trajectory my life took over the past year, or if it’s college, or a combination of both. But something shifted this past week. It’s as if my life was a roller coaster, speeding through dark tunnels and spinning through loops with my entire body being jerked left to right and front to back and then…whoosh. The emotional roller coaster is coming to a smooth, slow, comforting part of the ride where I can just release a breath and know that I’m safe and everything inside of me is beginning to settle.
That’s what this feels like. My life is finally beginning to feel settled.
After helping move Maggie in on Sunday, we were all exhausted. We sprawled out on her living room furniture, me and Ridge on one couch, Maggie and Bridgette on the other, and Warren on the floor. We all watched the season finale of The Bachelor—a show none of us has seen a single episode of all season, but we couldn’t find the remote and no one felt like changing the channel. Warren got really into it and started arguing with the TV when he felt the guy picked the girl Warren would have bet against if Warren had money.
When it was over, Ridge and I walked back to his apartment and crashed for the night. I was too exhausted to drive home, and we were both too exhausted to even shower. We walked straight to the bed and fell on top of it. We must have fallen asleep right away without even removing our clothes, because I woke up in the middle of the night to him slipping off my shoes and pulling the covers over me.
It’s been three days since then, and it’s all just felt so right. So good. It’s strange how I don’t even have my shit together yet, being a college student living paycheck to paycheck. But I feel like I would be happy with my life if it stayed this way forever. It goes to show that a person really doesn’t need much if they’re surrounded by the right people. Loved by the right people.
If I could bottle up the love I have for my life today, I would. It’s a love worth saving.
I pull into my complex and grab my phone to check it as I exit my car. There’s still no text from Ridge. He told me he’d text when he finished up with work today, but it’s after seven and I haven’t heard from him.
Me: You coming over tonight?
Ridge: Do you want me to?
Me: I always want you to.
I insert my key into the lock and open my apartment door. I’m staring down at my phone, waiting for Ridge to text me back, when someone grabs me from behind. I scream, but realize almost immediately that it’s Ridge, just by the feel of his arms wrapped around me. I spin in his arms, and he’s smiling down at me.
“I’d like it better if I could see it in person.”
She grins. “When’s your next day off?”
“I have an early day on Wednesday. I could drive to you…we could order take-out. Can’t spend the night this time, but I could stay a few hours.”
“That sounds good. I’ll cook for you,” she says.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a home-cooked meal?”
She smiles again and then follows her smile up with a sigh. I open my mouth to tell her how pretty she looks, but I’m interrupted when Justice walks into the room. “Hey, buddy,” I say, looking up from my phone. “You feeling okay?”
Justice nods but doesn’t look at me. He walks to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator.
“I’ll let you go,” Maggie whispers, pulling my attention back to my phone.
I smile appreciatively at her. “Call me tomorrow when you’re all settled.”
“I will. Goodnight.”
I stare at her a moment, not quite ready to end my conversation with her. But I also don’t want to be on the phone with her while Justice is in the room. “Goodnight, Maggie,” I whisper. She waves and then ends the call. I toss my phone on the couch and then walk into the kitchen with Justice.
He’s standing with the refrigerator door open, and he’s opening a slice of American cheese. He takes a bite out of it, leaving the slice dangling from his mouth while he grabs the deli meat. He pulls out a slice of ham and shoves it in his mouth, along with the rest of the slice of cheese.
“It would be easier if you just let me make you a sandwich,” I offer.
Justice grabs the bag of ham and closes the fridge. “I couldn’t wait that long. I feel like I might die of starvation.” He grabs a bag of chips and sits down at the bar with the ham in front of him. He opens the bag of chips and puts a few in his mouth. “Who were you talking to?”
“I take it you’re feeling better.”
“If you count starving to death as feeling better. Who were you talking to?” he repeats.
“Maggie.”
“The same girl you went to see in the hospital?”
This is why I didn’t want to be on the phone with her while he was in the room. He doesn’t shy away from anything. And I’m a big believer in being honest with him, so I nod. “Same one.”
“Why was she in the hospital?”
“She has Cystic Fibrosis.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It is. You should research it.”
Justice rolls his eyes because he knows I’m being serious. Every time he asks a question that I tell him to research, I always follow up with him the next day to make sure he did. Then I correct him on anything he learned that was inaccurate. That’s the downside of Google. There’s a lot of information, but you have to know how to weed through the bullshit. I think that’s really why I always have him research answers to a lot of his questions—so that he can learn how to properly navigate the bullshit.
“Is Maggie your girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“But you’ve had sex with her?”
The combination of my eleven-year-old asking if I’ve had sex with someone while chewing on a mouthful of ham is both odd and entertaining. “What?”
“You mentioned something about not being able to spend the night with her again. Which means you’ve spent the night with her before. Which probably means you’ve had sex with her because Cody says that’s what adults do when they spend the night with each other.”
“Cody is eleven. He isn’t always right.”
“So that’s a no?”
I feel guilty because I’m currently wishing Justice were still in bed sick. “Can we put this conversation on pause until you’re about fourteen?”
Justice rolls his eyes. “You say you like that I’m a curious kid, but then you never want to feed my curiosity.”
“I like that you’re curious. I like feeding your curiosity. But sometimes you’re too hungry.” I open the refrigerator and grab him a water. “Drink this. You haven’t had enough liquid today.”
Justice grabs the water from me. “Fine. But on my fourteenth birthday, be prepared to revisit this conversation.”
I laugh. God, I love this kid. But at this rate, I’m not sure I’ll make it until he’s fourteen. His curiosity is going to kill the cat. I’m the cat.
“You want me to make you something else to eat?”
Justice nods and closes the deli meat. “I’ll take some cinnamon toast. Can we watch Signs?”
I want to tell him no because the idea of watching one of his favorite movies for the twentieth time sounds excruciating. But I know before long, the last thing he’ll want to do is watch movies with his dad. As a father, I’ve learned to take what I can get while I can get it, because none of the phases a child goes through last forever. Eventually, the things you once found repetitive and irritating become the very things you’d give anything to repeat.
“Yeah, we can watch Signs. Get it started while I make your toast.”
I scan the radio stations in search of a song I can sing to. I’m in the mood to sing. My windows are down, the weather is gorgeous, and it occurred to me on my way home from work that I haven’t been in the mood to sing at the top of my lungs in my car in a long time. I don’t know if it’s because of the trajectory my life took over the past year, or if it’s college, or a combination of both. But something shifted this past week. It’s as if my life was a roller coaster, speeding through dark tunnels and spinning through loops with my entire body being jerked left to right and front to back and then…whoosh. The emotional roller coaster is coming to a smooth, slow, comforting part of the ride where I can just release a breath and know that I’m safe and everything inside of me is beginning to settle.
That’s what this feels like. My life is finally beginning to feel settled.
After helping move Maggie in on Sunday, we were all exhausted. We sprawled out on her living room furniture, me and Ridge on one couch, Maggie and Bridgette on the other, and Warren on the floor. We all watched the season finale of The Bachelor—a show none of us has seen a single episode of all season, but we couldn’t find the remote and no one felt like changing the channel. Warren got really into it and started arguing with the TV when he felt the guy picked the girl Warren would have bet against if Warren had money.
When it was over, Ridge and I walked back to his apartment and crashed for the night. I was too exhausted to drive home, and we were both too exhausted to even shower. We walked straight to the bed and fell on top of it. We must have fallen asleep right away without even removing our clothes, because I woke up in the middle of the night to him slipping off my shoes and pulling the covers over me.
It’s been three days since then, and it’s all just felt so right. So good. It’s strange how I don’t even have my shit together yet, being a college student living paycheck to paycheck. But I feel like I would be happy with my life if it stayed this way forever. It goes to show that a person really doesn’t need much if they’re surrounded by the right people. Loved by the right people.
If I could bottle up the love I have for my life today, I would. It’s a love worth saving.
I pull into my complex and grab my phone to check it as I exit my car. There’s still no text from Ridge. He told me he’d text when he finished up with work today, but it’s after seven and I haven’t heard from him.
Me: You coming over tonight?
Ridge: Do you want me to?
Me: I always want you to.
I insert my key into the lock and open my apartment door. I’m staring down at my phone, waiting for Ridge to text me back, when someone grabs me from behind. I scream, but realize almost immediately that it’s Ridge, just by the feel of his arms wrapped around me. I spin in his arms, and he’s smiling down at me.
