Wednesday (3 page)

There’s no mistaking the
resemblance when the kid comes up from behind and launches himself into Aria’s
arms.

“Who’s that, Mommy?” the little boy
asks.

“An old friend,” she answers, her
face turning red.

I might’ve debated that
characterization if I was in my right mind.

“Tristan.” Aria gives the kid a
squeeze. “This is my son, Caden.”

Shit, I don’t want to know this.
Man, why did I have to stop to check her out?

Dammit, tight yoga pants!

I can actually feel my face heating
up. Itchy and uncomfortable, my fight for that self-preservation is on. Step
one, get out of the danger zone. And fast. In my haste, words spill out of my
mouth. They sound something like, “Cute kid. Nice seeing you. Sorry about the
melon. Gotta go to my steak. Say hi to Alex.”

Idiot.

My head feels like it’s going to
explode. Still, I vaguely remember her saying something as I left.

When I get back to the beach house,
I can’t help but wonder what it was.

After we get
settled in at Mom’s, Cade is quiet, withdrawn. My brother, Jack, was there to
greet us with his wife, Philly, and their five-year-old twins: Leo and Logan.
Little
devils.

Leo told Cade his room was haunted
by the man who lived there before Nana. Logan snapped the waistband of his
underpants and challenged him to a race.

Cade hid behind my legs, clinging
to them like a PMSing woman to her last chocolate bar. He didn’t leave me for a
second. My poor boy. He didn’t engage with the kids. He watched them, oh how he
watched their every move. Even smiled a few times at their antics, but he
didn’t join in.

Thankfully, they didn’t stay long,
sensing we needed time. Or should I say Philly sensed it. My brother is a
completely oblivious man-child. In fact, I’m quite sure he taught the boys the
underwear snapping trick, right after their burping and farting contests.

Though I am determined not to raise
a Neanderthal, I worry about Cade. I know I should’ve taken him to more
classes, had him spend more time with kids his age. Not that there were a lot
of options living by a college campus. Still, now what? He can’t socialize? He
can’t relate to children? He’s going to end up as some recluse ordering weird
shit off the internet? Or become an agoraphobic, never able to go out in
public. He’s not even four yet and I’m convinced I’ve ruined him for life.

Hell no! We would fix this
situation pronto.    

“Hey buddy.” I shake Cade into a
little dance. “How about we go to the grocery store to pick up some of your
favorite foods? That way it’ll feel more like home.”

“Can I get a treat?” he asks, eyes
wide.

“Hmm,” I say, tapping a finger to
my chin. “Let me think about it.”

“Mommy,” Cade howls out, impatient.

“Hmm,” I continue, drawing out my
answer.

“Mommy,” he says again in a huff.

“Okay,” I finally tell him and I’m
rewarded with a huge smile. Then I flip him over my shoulder and we head to the
store. He squeals into the early spring breeze.

Once we get there, I plop Cade in
front of the bakery shelf and I’m greeted by one of Mom’s friends working
behind the counter.

“Aria,” she sings. “Your mom told
me you were coming home. And this must be your little one. What an angel.”

My stomach sinks. Though her words
are kind, there is judgment in her eyes. I nod to Cade when he looks up at me.
Our code for
be on your best behavior
. See, there is this way people
look at you as a young mother – like you don’t really know what you’re doing.
Like your child is a big oops and
oh boy, let’s watch how she handles it.

It’s why, in the beginning, I
always wanted Alex with us when we went out in public. I’m ashamed to say, he
made Cade and me seem like we were a real family and not an oops.

I’ve since gotten over that and I
will never apologize for my son. But that doesn’t stop me from taking the path
of least resistance from time to time.

“Hi, Mrs. Thorton,” I say. “This is
Cade and he’s very interested in the cupcakes.”

We make small talk and I repeat the
same information I gave to the neighbors and the mailman when I arrived just a
few hours ago: I missed the Florida weather; I’m excited to bring Cade closer
to his family; I’ll be taking classes at the university this summer. I leave
out the part about my divorce. Thankfully, the people around here are polite
enough to let it go.

At least to my face.

Mrs. Thorton brings out some
freshly baked treats and I realize it’s going to take Cade a while to make a
selection. “Take your time,” I tell him. “Pick out something for you and for
Nana. I’m going over there to get our fruit.”

“These look belicous,” he tells
Mrs. Thorton, and the judgment in her eyes begins to fade. That’s my son, the
charmer. But shit, we need to work on those Ds.

Jerry’s is a small store so I can
easily keep my eye on Cade and get most of my shopping done.  Plus, Mrs.
Thorton is fussing over him, letting him sample almost everything in the case.
For the first time, I feel almost optimistic. Maybe this will be the best thing
for him. Dare I say,
us
?

Unfortunately, that optimism
dissolves when I see
him.

It’s his laugh I recognize at
first. Then his eyes, though they aren’t soft and kind like I remember. As they
narrow in on me, I feel a little uneasy and drop a cantaloupe on the floor.

Great.

My chest squeezes as he stalks over
to me. It’s the only way to describe his gait. He’s graceful, confident, and
almost predatory. Damn, he should be sure of himself. In high school he was
cute, but this grown-up version of Tristan Green is something to behold. He’s
filled out his lanky frame with tight muscles that are apparent even covered in
a T-shirt and jeans. Long, thick lashes frame his steely eyes. His jaw, now
more square, rocks a perfect five o’clock shadow.

Crap, I might be drooling.

We say hello and we chat, but I
have a hard time focusing. It’s completely fake. Truth is, Tristan Green and I
are no longer friends. In fact, he’s the absolute opposite of a friend. I don’t
like to gossip, especially after being on the receiving end of so much of it
since high school, but Tristan Green is a selfish, childish irritation of a man
who actually wished me ill on my wedding day. Who called my son a mess and said
I deserved all the bad that would inevitably come my way.

At least that’s how I remember it.

 Even now, after all this time, you
think we’d be able to forgive and forget. Not possible, considering the way
he’s working his jaw, looking all dark and surly.  It brings back all those
awful memories.  

It is the most awkward and
uncomfortable conversation, and I’m completely on edge. And when Cade joins us,
the situation is downright tense.

“This is my son, Cade,” I tell him.

Tristan nods, his eyes darting
around like he’s trying to find the quickest getaway.

“Cute kid,” he says. Then he
mumbles something about the fruit and a steak and Alex.

“Alex and I aren’t together
anymore,” I say, but Tristan is already bolting to the other side of the store
before I finish.

For the tiniest of seconds, I wish
he hadn’t seen my son. That he didn’t know I’m this loser single mother. And
the fact that I let myself go there really ticks me off.

I watched Mom go through it as a
single parent of me and my brother and sister. The little comments; the pity.
That’s really why I married Alex. I didn’t what to be
that
girl
–
the one who got knocked up and ruined her life. Somehow with Alex,
my life was legitimized. With Alex in the picture, Cade wasn’t a mistake and we
had a great future ahead. Everyone knew Alex would be drafted by the NFL;
everyone thought we’d all have a charmed life.

That’s all I ever wanted for my
son.

When Tristan came to see me on my
wedding day, begging me not to marry Alex and telling me it was a mistake, I
knew he was right. He has no idea how close I was to following him out of the
church that day.

And that’s something he’ll never
have the privilege of knowing
 –
 or my son for that
matter.

His loss. 

“What the fuck, Danny.”
I call my only friend from high school once I get to my car. “Why didn’t you
tell me Aria had a kid?”

“Oh, shit. What happened?” he asks.

“Tell me why,” I demand, navigating
out of the parking lot as fast as I can so I don’t have to see her again.

“Because of your stupid rules,
asshole.”

Yeah, the infamous rules. The ones
I created to keep my sanity after Aria left. They basically involved keeping
all mention of Aria
–
and Alex
–
out of our conversations. I went to great lengths to avoid
anything Aria-related. But this? This was different. He should’ve told me. 

“Considering the magnitude of the
news, I think you could’ve broken the rules,” I tell him. “Surely that has to
be in the guy code of conduct somewhere.” Not that I would know. I wasn’t
exactly
that
kind of guy growing up
–
a guy’s
guy. I had no teammates or brothers or any type of testosterone-bonding
activities. No one had my back. At least back then.

But once I met Danny, he did his
best to catch me up. We started hanging out senior year when his parents came
to me begging for my tutoring services. Danny, on the other hand,
was
a
guy’s guy. He played baseball, watched ESPN, went to parties, got the girls.
Still, he didn’t act like the rest. And despite his pathetic knowledge of math
and science, we became fast friends.

He never left Gulf Bay. Always been
one of those people perfectly content with his lot in life. I guess he should
be; he does have a good life here. Shortly after high school, he opened an auto
body shop and it does some damn good business. Of course, he did have an
incredibly talented business advisor at his side to get it up and running. 

I envy what he has
–
especially with his girlfriend, Gabby.

“So Aria’s back in town already,
huh?” Danny says, all-knowing and annoying as shit.

“You knew she was coming back and
you didn’t tell me?” The hits kept on coming.

“Rules.”

It’s his only defense.

“Look, T, you get scary as shit
anytime her name is mentioned so I steer clear of it whenever I can,” Danny
finally elaborates. “Plus, I wasn’t sure the rumors were true. You knew Alex
was drafted, right?”

Silence.

That is another name I avoid at all
costs.

“Jesus Christ, do you live in a hole?”
Danny starts. “No, don’t answer that. Anyway, I saw the news coverage once the
Packers drafted him, but there was no mention of Aria so I suspected there was
trouble.”

“Wait,” I say, trying to keep my
voice as steady as possible. “She’s not with Alex anymore?”

“Stop right there, my friend,”
Danny says. “I’m not watching you go down a fucking rabbit hole again. Just
stay away from her.”

“Well,
friend,
that’s easier
to do when I’m prepared.” I glare at the phone like he can see me. “I ran into
Aria,
and her kid
,
at the grocery store. I’m telling ya, I almost
went into V-fib right there in Jerry’s.”

“Dude. I’m sorry.”

I know he is. After all, it was
Danny who had seen me through the thick of it.

“Worst part?” I say, trying to
lighten the mood. “I stumbled out of there without picking up my steak.”

“Ah shit, it’s Wednesday, isn’t
it?” Danny says. “I could pick something up for you and bring it out to the
beach house. It won’t be your standard rib eye, but what about some beer and
burgers?”

“Nah,” I answer, almost sorry I
called. I don’t want him feeling sorry for me. I can’t stand that. More
importantly, I want to be alone. The rush of seeing Aria took me back to a bad
place. Danny wasn’t kidding when he mentioned the rabbit hole. It was a dark
time.

“I’m fine. I’ll grab something on
my way. Plus, I was hoping to get some work done tonight.”

“Yeah,” Danny says, knowing full
well I’m blowing him off, but too good of a guy to call me out on it. “Give me
a ring if you change your mind.”

We both know I won’t.

***

As I sit on the deck watching the
last sliver of sun sink into the ocean, Aria invades my thoughts. It doesn’t
really matter that I just ran into her. This place always brings back the
memories. Sometimes I wonder if I come out here just to punish myself
–
reliving the past over and over again.

It’s too easy to remember,
especially this time of year. The warm breeze that turns cold at the edges in
the evening. The faint smell of wildflowers. The moisture in the air from all
the rain. It always takes me back to that one amazing night with her. 

“You made it.” I was shocked when
she actually showed that night after graduation.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked.

“Alex Anders,” I said, my voice
thick with disdain. I hated the guy. He was an entitled bully and I couldn’t
believe Aria couldn’t see it. She was smarter than that. And she deserved so
much more.

“Were not together, Tris,” she
said.

“Really?” I laughed to mask the
pain. “You seem to forget I saw you at the dance.”

It was an image I wish I could’ve
erased from my mind. The way he was all over her on the dance floor and how she
seemed to enjoy it. But they weren’t there long enough to really make a scene
–
which was even more disturbing. 

“Yeah, well, that was a mistake,”
she said. “I was hurt that you didn’t ask me and you know it.”