Heart-strong (6 page)

Fletcher eyed him up and down as if Jim were a decaying fish
set before him as a snack. “And is this dating serious?” asked Fletcher.

“It very well could be,” Donna answered as she took Jim’s
arm, still holding Tyler.

In the face of the tacit game being played between Donna and
Fletcher, the wisest course of immediate action was silence and an expression
of benign, if obtuse, goodwill. He could ask Donna to fill him in after
Fletcher left. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with either the man
or the woman. To relieve the tension, Jim offered a high five to Tyler, who
used his uninjured arm to whack away with enthusiasm.

The action seemed to relieve some of Donna’s anxiety, and
she moved toward the kitchen as she said, “I’ll make an ice pack for his arm.
He might as well stay here now that he’s back.”

“So,” said Jim, hands thrust into pockets, rocking on his
heels.

“So,” echoed Fletcher, thrusting his stalwart jaw forward.
“How long have you been seeing Donna?”

“We’ve been on a few dates.” Jim didn’t want to get roped
into a commitment he wasn’t willing to make. But he sensed this man wouldn’t be
keen to see some stranger hanging around his son. He decided to make a
distraction and challenged, “Haven’t seen you at the soccer games.”

Fletcher’s jaw receded, and he muttered, “I’ve had to travel
a lot for work this fall. I did make the team potluck. Didn’t see you there.”

Jim thought he’d better not mention the ski trip, so he
avoided the subject. “I understand the trophy for most improved player went to
Scott Kinsey, a young friend of mine. Of course, he can’t match your boy’s
skills, but he’s trying hard.”

“Oh, yes, the bushy-haired one.”

Jim started to bristle, then shrugged. “I guess he has bushy
hair. But he has some native talent if he practices enough. His mom’s raising
him on her own, so there’s no dad in the picture, which puts him at a
disadvantage.”

“You seem to know a lot about the team and the mothers.”

“I make time for them.”

“I bet you do.”

Before Jim could decide whether he should respond to the
implicit insult, Donna returned. “I’m putting Tyler to bed, Rex, so you might
as well leave.”

“Guess that’s my signal, too,” said Jim. “It’s late, so I’d
better get going.” He moved to grab his coat.

“Oh, no,” Donna objected. “I’ll be down very shortly.”

Rex stuck his prominent chin out. “I’ll help put
our
son down.”

“Young Tyler’s been through a lot,” said Jim, thinking he
himself had, too, what with the confrontational ex and all. “Donna, we can make
it another time.”

“All right.” Donna turned acquiescent and transferred Tyler
to Rex’s arms, nearly dropping the child in the process. “I’ll walk Jim to the
door.”

As they arrived at the door, Donna placed a hand on Jim’s
arm to stop him. “I’m sooooooo sorry about all this. Let me make it up to you.
How about dinner next week? We can even shop together so I get all your
favorites.”

Jim scrambled mentally for an excuse. He didn’t like the
glint in Donna’s eyes and he’d about decided to stop seeing Donna anyway.

“Puh-leeze,” Donna said with a flirtatious flip of her
eyelashes. “You said we could make it another time.”

Yes, he’d said that. Seeing no escape, Jim agreed. As he
walked to the car, he realized Rachel had another major advantage over Donna—no
ex-husband hanging around.

* * *

A mad dash from the bus to the grocery store. A normal
hectic post-work foray for sustenance-level food. Rachel mentally ran through
the stock of staples at home. Yes, they had olive oil; yes, they had onions and
rice. But really they needed something to add to make a complete meal. Cheese?
Chicken?

In the market she swept up and down aisles. Although January
had hardly begun, valentines held sway on several shelves. Hmmm, she’d have to
pick some up for Scott’s school party. Funny, funny, funny, she thought as she
thumbed through the kids’ collection. Maybe she should get a humorous, casual
one for Jim. Although she and he were getting along even better than before,
calling or texting one another nearly every day, going to a museum or jazz club
every week, a kernel of uncertainty remained in Rachel’s mind.

Maybe because Jim sometimes seemed to sidestep her
suggestions about things to do. Or when he saw Scott, he reached forward to
shake hands rather than offering a hug, which seemed to put some emotional distance
between them. Most especially, Jim hadn’t come out and stated anything to
confirm he felt he and Rachel were a real couple.

Enough brooding, she scolded herself as she replaced the
valentines. On to shopping. She pushed her cart around the corner to approach
the produce section and nearly knocked over—Jim!

A huge welcoming smile broke like a wave over her face, and
she almost reached for him. Thank goodness she didn’t, for standing right next
to him, balancing a melon and a bunch of carrots, was the blonde mother from
the soccer team. Donna, was that her name? Yes. And she and Jim looked awfully
cozy as they both had a hand on a grocery cart, which was loaded with the
makings of dinner—a baguette, cheeses, fruit tart, a big steak, and baking
potatoes.

“Um, hello,” Rachel managed. “You’re missing the vegetables
for your meal. Very important to have veggies and a salad. The asparagus is on
sale today.”

Why on earth had she produced that inane statement? She
wanted to duck and hide behind her cart, but because the sides weren’t solid,
she still would have been exposed.

Jim’s smile froze on his face half way between a sincere
hello and an embarrassed smirk. He swallowed, then proceeded. “Um, hello,” he
echoed. “Rachel, I’d like you to meet Donna Fletcher. Donna, this is Rachel
Kinsey. Both your boys are on the soccer team.”

“Oh, yes,” said Donna. “I thought you looked familiar.
What’s your son’s name?”

“Scott. Scott Kinsey.”

“He won most improved player this year,” Jim interjected for
no apparent reason except to fill in time.

“Yes, he did. Although neither of you would know since you
weren’t at the awards ceremony,” said Rachel, so sugar-sweet she could have
been sucking on a peppermint.

“That was the weekend we went to Vail,” said Donna.
“Remember?”

Jim muttered a “yes” in the lowest tone he could manage.

“Ah. Vail? Vail. Well, see you around maybe,” Rachel
squeezed out between clenched teeth. Her cart moving so quickly sparks nearly
shot out from the wheels, she headed for the self checkout lane without finishing
her shopping. And without stopping at Jim’s call of, “Rache, Rache. Wait a
sec.”

The incomplete shopping trip brought complaints from Scott
later on. “Mom, you forgot the chocolate ice cream. And the frozen waffles for
breakfast.”

Rachel slammed three bologna and cheese sandwiches on the
table, accompanying them with carrot sticks and cucumbers—
she
didn’t forget vegetables!—and bowls of chicken noodle soup.

A bewildered Sharon had the audacity to ask, “I thought we
were having meat loaf and mashed potatoes.”

“This is dinner,” Rachel snarled. “Take it or leave it. And
don’t forget the millions of Third World residents who don’t have
any
dinner.” She yanked her chair out
and took her seat.

“Uh-oh, what’s wrong?” Sharon said as she bit into her
sandwich. “When you start lecturing us about the Third World, you’ve either
read a heartbreaking news story or you’re pissed off. Which is it?”

“Little pitchers,” said Rachel, and jerked her head toward
Scott.

“Oh, Mom, I’d be happy to take my food into the living room
and watch TV,” said Scott.

Sharon nodded her head in agreement and waved her fingers in
the direction of the living room. When Scott disappeared, she asked, “What’s
up?”

A gush of tears was Rachel’s response, and she covered her
face with her hands, emitting a series of short screams in between sobs. “It’s
Jim—eeek!—I ran into him tonight at Super Shop—eeek! He was with a tall, thin
blonde whose son is on the soccer team—eeek! They had dinner fixings in their
cart, and she oh-so-casually mentioned they’d been to Vail together.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sharon squeezed her sister’s arm. “But that
doesn’t mean they’re serious.”

“No, but it does mean he can’t be all that serious about me.
That we’re not in an exclusive relationship. And you and I agree about the importance
of trust and exclusivity between a man and a woman.” She sniffled mightily. “I
don’t know whether to bawl or bellow.”

“I can’t tell if you’re sad or angry.”

“I’m ping-ponging back and forth. Sad that Jim’s not nearly
as serious as I am. Pissed at that skinny blonde. She wanted to rub my nose in
her little getaway with him.”

“Eat up,” Sharon said as she handed Rachel a paper napkin to
blow her nose on. “No man’s worth skipping dinner for.”

Rachel nodded in agreement, wiped her face, and with only a few
sniffles to break her concentration on food, flourished her fork with vigor.
When the sisters were done with the meal and Scott dashed into the kitchen with
his dinnerware, Rachel filled the sink with water and bubbles and began the
dishes. She lifted the sponge in the air, squeezed soap, and considered as it
dripped into the sink.

“Oh, well, I guess he’s like all men. I don’t need ’em
anyway. I’ve done fine on my own for years,” Rachel said, her jaw working back
and forth.

Sharon threw down the dishtowel and the plate she was
drying. “What are you talking about? Can’t you see that you’re still reacting
like you did to our family? You tried your best to patch things up between Mom
and Dad, stop the arguments, be the diplomat so we’d get along. The same way
with your ex. When your intrigues didn’t work, and our parents got divorced,
and your ex walked out, you denied you even cared. Played tough. Built a wall
around yourself. You’re so headstrong.”

“You’re nuts. You make me sound like an immature idiot, insisting
on her own way, trying to get all the attention.”

“No.” Sharon stepped closer to Rachel and put both arms
around her. “It was because you cared so much. I remember once you begged Dad
to come home for a Sunday dinner because it was Mom’s birthday and she’d be
brokenhearted if he didn’t show. And if I was late getting home after school,
you’d run around and do my chores so I wouldn’t get in trouble. Whereas I just
fought and screamed and refused to obey.”

“I never succeeded, did I?”

Sharon broke the hug and stepped back, still holding
Rachel’s shoulders. “Nope. Then Scott’s dad, that eternal loser, you’d do back
flips to help him land work or be a decent father. Praise him, build up his
pathetic ego.”

“He wanted to be a good husband and parent. He just didn’t
know how,” said Rachel. “You know he was fatherless...and his mother, the less
said, the better.”

“You don’t need to make excuses for him or our father. You
tried your darnedest. Their loss. But I noticed what you were doing, and it
mattered to me.” Sharon looked deep in Rachel’s eyes. “I wish you knew how much
you deserve a decent relationship. Maybe if you show you want Jim and need him,
he’ll give himself and you a chance. Try being heart-strong for once.”

* * *

Text messages offer an easy way to avoid an emotionally
messy situation. You can communicate without risking much of a rebuff. You
can’t see degrees of disgust or repugnance in the person you’re texting. All in
all, Jim decided, texting was the way to test the waters with Rachel. The memory
of the surprise and pain on Rachel’s face when she’d bumped into him with Donna
at the grocery store had been tough. She didn’t give him a chance to explain,
had sped away with her little cart and nary a glance back, like a little old
lady escaping a mugger.

Jim admitted to himself that he swayed perilously close to a
decision about actively pursuing Rachel. Surprised to find himself drawn to the
ready-made family she offered, relieved when he thought about giving up his
bachelor ways, and smoldering inside at the physical attraction that he felt,
he hoped he could mend the rift. Rebuild a bridge with her. Sure, she wasn’t
perfect—but she was pretty darn close. He opened his cell phone and began
entering.

* * *

Rachel glanced at her cell phone. A new text.

Jim: Hi

Hi?
What
kind of a game was this? But the guy deserved a chance.
She replied back
the same.

Jim: WUP?

What’s up? Was he
serious?
Somewhat
familiar with texting language, Rachel answered the code for “not much.” “NM.”

Jim: Wntd xpln mkt

Now Rachel began to get confused.
Was he trying to explain how to “mark it?” Mark what?
So she
replied, “Mkt? Mkt what?”

Jim: W/D. @str

Rachel had no idea who or what “D” was. And did “str” refer
to “street?” So she replied, “W/D? D who?”

Jim: Just a fr

This was somewhat comprehensible. Whoever D was, most
probably the woman who’d been with Jim, she was just a friend. However, Rachel
wasn’t ready to overlook the entire episode, so she texted back, “NOMB.” This
to her meant “none of my business.”

Not to Jim. He translated the phrase as “no obligatory
message back.” So he moved on.

Jim: R we ok?

Rachel got on her high horse and responded, “DKDC,” meaning
“don’t know, don’t care.”

In the world of texting, misinterpretations are frequent, and
Jim thought she’d said, “Dude, okay, do come.” Happy she seemed to be forgiving
him, he texted back: ASAP

Rachel: ASAP?

Jim: SYS?

This was wide open to misinterpretation. While Jim meant,
“See you soon?”, Rachel read it as “Say you’re sorry?” She bristled. She had
nothing to be sorry for, so she flashed back “RUNTS,” meaning “Are you nuts?”