Jay Walking (6 page)

My dad presses his cheeks together, and wipes his hand over his face. "Chelsea, I thought Daniel didn't want to be involved. I wish he could have just signed off his rights, but since our lawyer said a judge wouldn't go for that, Daniel agreed to stay away." He turns to my mom. "Rose, I told you we should have gotten it in writing."

"Chelsea risked too much doing that. Maybe he would have changed his mind and decided to fight for custody."

"I doubt that. He didn't want anything to do with the baby or Chelsea."

"Dad, I'm right here." I understand Daniel wished for me and James to disappear as though we never existed, but it's still painful to listen to it. Especially from my parents. I didn't want him out of our lives, initially. As the months went by, I got used to it.

He scoots forward on the couch and hikes his pants up a bit, displaying his Donald Duck socks. My dad has always been a bit of a goof. "I'm sorry if this hurts you, Chels."

"This isn't news to me. You act like this is the first time I'm hearing this, Dad. I'm finally over what happened. His text threw me for a loop, that's all." James lets out a small cough through the monitor. I want to get back to him. He's right downstairs, but I don't want to leave him very long, even if he is asleep and the door is locked. I came upstairs to let my parents know about the text and nothing more.

"I don't like this, dear," my mom chimes in. "I think we're asking for trouble if you meet with him."

Does she think this involves her or is her decision? "Whether or not I text him back, or even agree to hear him out, is entirely up to me." I'm a grown woman. I can decide this for myself. "I'm not asking for your permission."
 

"It kind of sounds like you are." My dad stares at me, holding his poker face, and I can't call a bluff. Am I fooling myself?

•••

I stare at the ceiling, still not sure of what to do. As soon as my dad made me question my intention of telling them about Daniel, I raced downstairs and checked on James. I watched him sleep for a few minutes before going to bed myself. Now, I lie in bed, curiosity chewing at me, and I can't stop considering all the scenarios of meeting him. How will I feel? Will it be as though nothing changed? Will I still be attracted to him? Will
he
be attracted to
me
? Should I bring James with me? Does he even want to meet his son? What will he say to him? Will James realize Daniel is his father? I turn over and grab my phone off the nightstand.
 

The brightness from the back light almost blinds me, but after awhile my eyes adjust. The text stares back at me, taunting me, begging me to respond. How much will my life be affected if I reply and meet with him? I may have something of his he needs back, so he only wants me to return whatever it is. My fingers hover over the keyboard. I begin to type I'll meet him, then erase the words. No. My parents will hate me. I write the opposite. "I don't think it's a good idea." The SEND button sits there, but I can't press it. What the hell is wrong with me? I delete the line, leaving only the "I" on the screen.

The lonely I. That one, single, letter in the tiny box drives me nuts, completely representing who I am. Me. Me, myself and I. Of course, James and my parents are in my life, but for the past two years it's only been me, and, quite honestly, a long time before that. Daniel and I never really were together. During our entire relationship, his heart belonged to Lauren. She stood by him through thick and thin and he by her. He went home to her every night, and he proposed and eventually married her. I sat back while I let it happen, getting pregnant in the meantime. I can't believe someone who I devoted so much of my life to didn't love me unconditionally. Still, I loved him that way. I stayed with him through his ups and downs with Lauren, and waited for every chance he could see me. When he proposed to Lauren, my devotion remained in my heart in case he changed his mind and came back to me.
 

I'm certain he isn't in love with me anymore. I don't doubt that. And I don't love him. I've got a date with a hot doctor and, best of all,
single
doctor. No good can come of seeing Daniel again. Still, if I don't respond, his reasons behind his text will eat away at me. I don't need to tell my parents. We'll meet up, talk about whatever he wants, and move on with our lives. I finish the rest of the sentence, telling him I'm available in a few days. As if going back in time, my eyes linger on the phone, waiting for another response. I don't expect a full-fledged conversation over text messaging with Daniel, but, I guess, in a way, I hope. After five minutes of no reply, I shut off my phone, place it back on the nightstand, and lie with my eyes open until I slip into darkness.

Work calls, and I'm ready. I despise my job sometimes, but I need to stop thinking about what Daniel can possibly want. I know, though, that until we sit together and he tells me what he texted me for, I'll drive myself crazy. He never replied to my text, and I'm secretly hoping he does to tell me he changed his mind. Still, I'm anxious to find out what he wants.

The first thing I do is log onto my computer and sift through my email. Ten require my attention, which is nothing compared to my inbox at the end of a quarter or year, but the daunting task keeps my thoughts of Daniel at bay for a while, at least. A few customers email me asking if I made a decision on their loan or to confirm their closing date. I receive a few responses from verification companies I'm waiting for. This is my day, every day, filled with emails and phone calls and pushing buttons on my computer like a robot.

My boss sent an email to the team informing us Amber would be late, and, sure enough, she shows up at her cubicle at almost eleven. "Why are you late?" I ask as she sits down at her desk.

"Overslept and then my car wouldn't start. My neighbor helped me change my battery."

A valid excuse, I guess. Amber often comes in late, but she manages never to get in trouble or written up. She always calls, so she's not flat out skipping work and being irresponsible. I think she may be Barb's favorite. Anyone else arriving late so much probably would be fired by now, or, at least, on a final warning. My educated guess is she
did
oversleep but took her dandy time getting ready. No one rolls out of bed looking as hot as she does, and she
always
looks good, even more so now that she's trying to impress Ryan.

"Did you enjoy your night?" she whispers over the wall to me.
 

I hate our blue partitions. Both Amber and I are fairly tall, so at least we can whisper and by reading each other's mouths understand what the other says. Others try to chat, but the walls block them from figuring out what they're saying. My walls are covered in paper, from important phone numbers to new procedures I often forget to look at and, therefore, follow, and a few cute drawings Amber makes me for fun when she's bored. That's the only exciting part of my wall. My only picture of James leans on my keyboard against my monitor. I don't need much else. Some people put pictures of their families or significant others covering their desk and walls, but I don't want that. James is my happy place and I don't want to bring him into the hell I call my job. One small photo gets me through the day.

"Mostly. I took James to the park. Something happened."

"What?" Her eyes go big and her smile wide. "Did you meet another guy? You'll be fighting them off with a stick soon, Chelsea."

"No, nothing like that." Fighting guys off? That doesn't sound appealing at all. I want to devote my life to a single person. The courtship, proposal, wedding. The whole fantasy. "I received an interesting text when I was at the park with James."

"Let me guess - Jay the doctor. Did he send you a picture of him naked with only a stethoscope around his neck?" Amber salivates as she imagines Jay, someone she's never seen before, naked. I don't know how she gets any work done as much as she thinks about guys.

"No." I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. "Daniel wants to get together and talk."

She lets out a laugh, drawing attention from our coworkers. "Sorry," she says as she raises her hand up in apology. She turns back to me. "I bet you told him where to shove it."

I'm not sure how to respond. My face is covered in uncertainty. Should I have told him off? Not even been nice? That's not me. I grew up a lot since Daniel and don't always let everyone walk all over me anymore, but I'm not aggressive about my feelings.

"What? You didn't tell him off? Chelsea, why not?" Her head is tilted and she's genuinely concerned.

"I can't answer that." I think the response as I say the words out loud. "I just, I don't know, the curiosity got to me. We haven't even picked a time to meet and I'm going crazy thinking about it. I need to know what he wants. Maybe he's going to pay me back all the money he owes me. He hasn't sent a penny James' entire life."

"Girl, he's not giving you money. If he wanted to give you money, he'd send it in the mail."

"But-"

"But nothing.
He's
a butt, that's what." She shakes her head. "You're going to regret this. Big time."

"Why?" Simply meeting him and hearing him out isn't a bad thing. I'm not going to be sucked back into his world and my attraction to him. I'm past that. Way past it.

"What if he wants you to introduce him to James? Or what if he wants you back? Or, maybe, he caught some disease from all the fooling around he did and his conscious said he should tell you. Tell me, how are you feeling down there? Everything okay?"

"Stop, Amber!" I say harshly. She may be open about, well, everything, but I'm not discussing something that personal with her. For the record, I'm fine. "I'm sure he doesn't have ... something. I'll regret it the rest of my life if I don't find out what he wants. I'll always wonder what if."

"Well,
what if
he never lied to you in the first place and you and him and James were one big happy family? Seems pretty unrealistic, right? Because it is. Daniel's
not
a good guy and no good can come of this. None! I don't want to be the one to tell you I told you so, but I might."

She will, too. Amber is a very honest, straightforward person. She voices what's on her mind without any type of filter. This doesn't bother me, though. She says what she says because she cares. But, this is something I need to do for me. I can't sit and fester over what he wants and I doubt he'll tell me over a text message, or he would have done so by now.
 

My phone rings. "Fine. If he tells me he's riddled with disease, you have my permission to say you told me so." Another ring. Three more rings before the call bounces to one of my coworkers. Then whoever picks up will be pissed because I'm clearly not busy at my desk. "But, if it's something else, then
I'll
tell
you
I told you so."

She gives me a thumbs up sign and a smirk as I pick up the phone. Any outcome from this probably won't make me happy. Still, I need to do this. For me.

Saturday rolls around and I'm anxious for my date with Jay. I get James ready and check my phone for the weather outlook. Sixty degrees out, but kind of windy, which brings the wind chill down to almost fifty. Not wanting to freeze, I opt for the long leggings as Amber suggested, and a long sleeve shirt, topped with a lightweight jacket. I don't know where he plans to eat after, and hope my outfit is appropriate. However, considering we're going for a walk first, I don't think he will want me to dress too fancy.
 

Jay and I agree to meet at the gas station where the vicious bee almost killed me. I curse that station now, and every bug occupying a one hundred foot vicinity. Damn jerks. I purchase a water before sitting outside on the retaining wall to wait for him. I find myself fiddling with the bottle cap, and even drop it on the ground a few times. I don't want him to be late. This is our first date and if he doesn't show up on time, he may not really be interested. I'm going on my first date in years,
years
, and I want it to go well. I
need
it to go well.

Jay approaches in a pair of sleek black workout pants and a light jacket. I'm torn if I prefer him in his exercise clothes or his doctor coat. Either way, he's sure good looking. I wonder what's under the jacket. I imagine a ribbed tank top with his pecks exploding out of it. I blush, and if he catches me, he doesn't say anything.

"Hey Chelsea," he greets me with a small wave. "Glad you showed up."

"You thought I wouldn't?"

"Well, I tossed around the idea maybe the bee sting eventually killed you. Or perhaps you found out you're allergic to calamine lotion, and that was your demise."

Very funny. A few days ago, I considered comments like this jerky, but I realize now this is his sense of humor, and I think I like it. "Ha ha. Nope. I'm here. I'm glad
you
showed."

"Good. I'm glad to be here."

"We're using the word glad a lot." His eyes are a shade of brown I've never seen before. Honesty, perhaps? I want to stare into them for hours.

"We're happy people," he smiles. "Happy people who need to get walking." He starts moving toward the sidewalk as a signal for me to get off my ass and join him.
 

Disappointed to lose his focus, I hop off the ledge and meet his stride. "Where do you want to go? You said you planned on lunch after."

"I live about two miles from here and there's a cute family owned restaurant about a half mile further. I thought we would head there."

For me, that's already a three-quarter mile walk to the gas station, and another two and a half to eat, for another three and a quarter mile walk home. I'm too new at this for an over six-mile walk today. My body is much too inactive for this.
 

"Don't worry. I'll drive you home after lunch," Jay responds, sensing my uneasiness.
 

"Okay," I agree. "Sounds great."

We keep walking, and my body welcomes the movement. I'm actually doing something. I love taking some control in my life. I especially love I'm setting goals for myself. I love James more than anything, but the past few years my attention has been one-hundred percent devoted to him. I never do anything just for
me
. My mom often tells me I should, and so does Amber, but I always feel guilty. I'm not being a horrible parent leaving James with my mom so I can go on a date, right? I don't think I am. I hope I'm not, anyway. Does taking time for myself label me as a bad mom? Am I being selfish? I can't think about this now.