While We have This Moment Ch. 02

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he said with a sad smirk.

We had both been ambling towards the front door, and once we got there, Jared opened it for me. I leaned in and gave him one last kiss on the cheek. As I pulled my face away, I paused and debated one longer kiss on the lips...

Stop it, Denise! I warned myself. The hormones were running high tonight! "Bye, Jared. See you at the wedding, probably!"

His face looked confused for a moment, then he realized what I was talking about. "Yep," he agreed. "That won't be awkward."

I rolled my eyes and headed out.

*******

The next month rolled by uneventfully. Kara reluctantly gave up on the idea of me and Jared, finally conceding that she had always known it was a long-shot. I spent more weekends with Macy and her family, eventually confiding in her what I knew about Aaron's drug habit. Speaking of which, I saw no more evidence of drug use and figured he was really trying to make that last time the last time. An effort I knew was bound to fail. Macy, meanwhile, urged caution, warning me to maybe look into my own legal obligations if I knew something was amiss. I made a note to ask Dottie (Gina's boss) about that. As the director of a women's shelter, she knew a lot about such things.

As summer kicked into full gear and the kids finished school, Aaron had them attending a day camp at the YMCA. I got them in the mid-afternoon and stayed until the evening, sharing dinner with the family more often than not. I usually left shortly after dinner, so Aaron and I didn't talk much alone. When we did, his main concern was how I was doing with the kids. He was very concerned that the kids were respectful and kind to me and that I genuinely enjoyed being with them. "I don't want you to come here grudgingly," he said on more than one occasion. I assured him that, though I often was tired when I showed up and would sometimes prefer to just go home, I was never unhappy about being with Maya and Derek. Aaron was always relieved to hear that.

One Friday night, Derek persuaded me to stay after dinner and go to his first soccer game. I had been taking him to practice for weeks, so I felt a good bit of loyalty to him and his team. After the game (which was less like soccer and more like "Magnet Ball," where the ball is a magnet and all the kids on the field are like iron fillings...), we went back to the house. I instinctively got the kids all ready for bed while Aaron cleaned the dinner dishes. Once the kids were asleep, I was gathering my things to leave. Before I was all ready to go, Aaron asked, "What would you do differently if they were your kids?"

I froze in place. Without thinking it through or knowing quite why, I was a little uncomfortable with the question.

"No pressure," he said, pouring himself a mug of tea and offering me one. I declined at first. "I just mean, if you were in my shoes, you know. Single mom... what would you do differently?"

"I... uh, can't say I've really thought about it," I stammered.

"Sure you have," he countered, leaning back against the fridge and blowing on his drink. "Every time you've disagreed, even slightly, with the choices I've made in raising them, with the way I discipline, spend time, whatever. What would you do?"

"Well, I'd seriously consider getting a better nanny," I deadpanned.

"Yeah, obviously," he shot back, just as seriously. I flicked my keys at his arm. I looked at the clock. It wasn't too late, and it was Friday. "Pour me a mug," I said, nodding to the teapot on the stove.

We sat at the table and chatted. It started as a talk about the kids, and we covered a lot of ground. I didn't have much to say about what I would do differently, but we did talk a lot about childhood and parents and memories. I mentioned Brett and hinted at his addictions. Aaron didn't seem to be as self-reflective as I would have thought, though he did ask good questions about my relationship with my brother.

"In and out of jail, halfway houses, homeless shelters, and who knows where else," I said. "We hear from him when he's desperate enough to come looking for money."

"That's so sad," Aaron said, shaking his head. I hoped he was taking it seriously.

"Brett wasn't always that way, but addictions start to control you, and it destroys everything you love," I cautioned.

He simply nodded.

After another period of conversation, during which we finished the pot of tea, Aaron looked up at the clock. "Well, it's bedtime for grown-ups, too," he said, standing up. He arched his back and stretched his arms. I saw the time and was surprised that we had talked for more than two hours.

"Oh my," I said. "I'm gonna use the bathroom, then head out."

"Sure," he said. "Just lock the door behind you. I'm going upstairs." He put our mugs in the sink and turned off the light. "Denise," he added, just before reaching the stairs, "The kids really like you. You're doing a great job. Thanks."

I watched him ascend the steps and thought about what a good man he was. I wondered if I knew any good women looking for a pre-fab family. It could be a good match. Then again, Aaron had some issues that weren't going to be easy for anyone close to him. But it was worth thinking about. I thought about it as I busied myself in the kitchen, putting a few things away and wiping off a few wet spots on the counter. I thought about the kids while I checked the fridge and added some items to the shopping list taped to the freezer door. I remember a load of towels in the dryer and folded them casually while humming a tune I had heard on the radio.

I didn't want to leave. It was odd, but I stood in the kitchen, my eyes following the stairs up as they disappeared into darkness, and I wondered what it would be like to go up instead of out at night. To have a casual conversation with a man while the kids slept, and then to follow him to bed and snuggle under the covers. To make love quietly, with lots of giggles, trying not to disturb the kids ("Make sure the bedroom door is locked!"). There was a certain appeal to the domestic life, I had to admit. I wondered what kind of fool Aaron's ex-wife had to be if she left all this: two adorable children and one very good man. OK, a flawed man, but still...

I rolled my eyes at my own silliness and grabbed my keys. I would sleep late tomorrow, for sure.

*******

Not much significant happened the rest of the summer. Friday evening tea and conversation became a semi-tradition, since it was the one night I could stay late, and Derek always had a soccer game. Maya finally started understanding math and did very well on her placement test for the coming school year. That, apparently, was the condition Aaron had set for her to get her ears pierced, and all four of us went out to witness the piercing. She insisted I come because I had spent so much time trying to help her study.

More than once I lingered at the house on Friday night, increasingly dissatisfied with the prospect of going back to my empty house. Aaron seemed to be in decent health - more fatigued than someone his age should be, I thought, and still looking to be losing weight, but no incidents since that Wednesday night at the beginning of the summer.

And the job paid well. I wasn't paying much attention to my finances, since my expenses were so low, but Aaron apparently paid overtime whenever I stayed late, and by the time the kids started school in September, my balance was in very good shape. One more year of watching the kids and I would be able to get my degree without any loans.

Kara and Ollie got engaged mid-summer, and, seeing no reason to delay, they scheduled their wedding for the early fall. She had, after all, been planning this for years, just waiting for the groom. All the important details were waiting on that one last piece. I was to be a bridesmaid, and, I suspected, Jared would be a groomsman.

*******

Kara had been planning her wedding for as long as I had known her. Not in any obsessive way... Well, maybe a little obsessive. The years of planning showed as I looked around at the dance hall. When she told me the colors were silver and sage, I was skeptical. But it looked marvelous. The dress was stylish, the music tasteful, the flowers a bit excessive, and the food amazing. I dutifully stood in the line with four other bridesmaids, reassuring myself that, even if I was the heaviest bridesmaid, it was only because Kara's friends were all so skinny. I was pretty sure I was killing it in my dress, which actually flattered my form.

The reception went long, as I knew it would, with Kara drawing out this opportunity to be the center of attention. Ollie went along with it all very good-naturedly, and he seemed to be a good match for Kara. It was also very interesting to observe Jared, who I was surprised to see was the more reserved of the groomsmen. Normally so confident and smooth, I was surprised to see that he wasn't as gregarious in a large group as I expected. He seemed almost... shy. Insecure, even?

But he looked very good in his tuxedo. I was one of the three single bridesmaids, and the other two made obvious plays for Jared. As did a few other women when the dancing started. As did a few more once the alcohol was flowing. Jared seemed a little uncomfortable with the attention, or perhaps it was the whole situation. I knew he didn't like big crowds. And he wasn't a dancer. I felt an inexplicable twinge of jealousy seeing him so attended to and noticing that I was not receiving much attention from the male guests (though few of them were single, from what I could tell).

What is it about weddings? Is it the subtext of sex that makes us horny? Or is it just the whole feeling of excitement and romance that stirs our longing? Whatever the reason, I was feeling emotional, jealous, envious, hungry, horny, lonely, and plenty of other things I could probably have identified if I'd been given the leisure to be introspective.

Seeing Jared cornered by a determinedly amorous cougar at one point, I took pity on him. It was almost time for the couple to make their exit, and so I cut in between the cougar and her prey, saying, "Excuse us, we have some wedding party business to take care of." Jared hurried after me, muttering words of thanks. We had hardly spoken that weekend, despite seeing each other at the rehearsal and the the rehearsal dinner.

Shoving a large cloth bag into his hand, I smiled and said, "What, you thought that was just an excuse? Hand these out!" Together, we made sure that every remaining guest had a small plastic container of bubbles to blow as the new couple left the building. Once everything was set up, Jared somehow ended up standing next to me in the crowd of people waiting for Kara and Ollie to emerge. They finally appeared, to suitable shouts and cheers, making their way to the limo that would escort them off into marital bliss.

As they drove off, the dance music started in earnest, and half the guests pushed the other half back towards the hall. Jared and I managed to linger behind, walking awkwardly next to each other.

"You OK?" he asked, shuffling his feet.

"Yeah," I answered. "Just, you know. Weddings. Bittersweet, sometimes."

He nodded, smiling as he looked at the floor. We were alone in the hallway.

"You're a really great woman, Denise," he said, looking up but still not making eye contact. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"No... you didn't really," I tried to explain. "I'm just glad we got that out in the open before... you know."

He shrugged, "I guess." He seemed a little lethargic. Perhaps he'd had more to drink than I had thought. The music was loud but muted by the large double doors a the end of the hallway. We stopped walking and stood still. I didn't feel like dancing. I felt like leaving. I wanted to go home. And I didn't want to be alone.

Jared stepped closer until he was only a breath away. "I really liked you Denise," he confessed. Why was he telling me this? Our faces were close, much closer than they should have been.

"You liked the idea of me more than you liked me," I said, channeling my inner Macy.

"I liked you, too," he insisted. By then, I could almost feel the tickle of his lips moving against mine as he spoke. One of us, maybe me, closed the gap. Our tongues met as our lips reunited. I put my hands on his waist and his fingers messed up my hair as he pulled me closer to him. We kissed greedily, sloppily, angrily. We stumbled until he backed up against a wall, and there we rested while our kissing continued. His hands slipped along my waist and gripped my butt. I gasped at the pleasure the rough contact brought me. My hands rubbed furiously at his sides, feeling his ribcage expand as his breathing quickened. My hands kneaded the skin above his waist, wanting to squeeze something, to hold something, to pull something. O God how my body wanted something. If we had been somewhere else - in my house, in a car, in a room with a lock - we would have been halfway naked already. Jared broke our kiss and glanced around. I looked, too. A doorway? A closet? What was I thinking? Was I seriously considering this? I closed my eyes and exhaled as his hand worked its way up my back, touching all the skin exposed by the dress. His hands pulled me towards him as he turned and backed up, moving towards a door a little ways away. Jared kissed me again and I fought with my own confusion.

It'll be just one time, how bad could that be?

But you already know you don't want this?

The hell I don't! I want this so fucking bad right now!

You don't want what comes after this. You're just feeling emotional and horny because of the wedding.

So what?

You'll regret this.

Not until later. I'll enjoy it right now.

He doesn't care about you or what you want.

I paused, catching my breath. My doubt pressed its advantage.

Remember what he wants from you? Neither of you wants the other person, you just want each other's body. Are you ready to sell yourself so cheap?

OK, Doubt, now you're exaggerating. And Jared's lips on my earlobe were making a pretty good case for following him to whatever is in that room over there. His hand on the exposed skin below my throat, promising to move a little further down, as soon as it had opportunity...

The sudden clank of the double doors and the corresponding blast of music that reached us while the doors were opened shook me out of my trance. Another couple, laughing and stumbling, entered the hallway. I put my palms on Jared's chest and pushed away.

"No, Jared," I said softly. "No. This is a mistake."

He tried to reach for my hand, but I was running towards the door - or at least I was trying to run in those wretched heels I had to wear. It was a two-hour drive home. I stormed in angrily, bitter that my house was exactly as I had left it. I tossed the dress onto the floor, took a quick shower, grabbed some leftover pizza and went to bed. I rubbed myself furiously, forcing myself to imagine someone else. I came hard picturing myself riding one of the other groomsmen from the wedding. Having found some small measure of release, I drifted off to sleep.

*******

The next day, on Sunday afternoon, I had Macy all to myself for a few hours. Ernst took the kids out for a few hours and Macy and I finally got to talk. It wasn't all about me - she had her own stories to tell, too. And it wasn't all about men and families, but that was a lot of it. She seemed to understand that, even though I knew I had no future with Jared I still felt drawn to him just because he was there. And because I wanted somebody, and I was getting tired of waiting for the right guy to appear in my life. I'd be lying if I said there was not a fair amount of tears shed that afternoon.

"But still no Friday night guys, right?" Macy joked. By that point in the conversation, we were outside on a big swinging bench in their yard. Our legs dangled, swaying gently enough to keep some motion going.

"No, definitely not," I answered. "Besides my Fridays nights are..." I was going to say "My Friday nights are busy," but even as I started the thought, I realized there was more to it than that. "My Friday nights are the highlight of my week, I think," I said, surprising myself with that assessment.

Macy raised her eyebrows and looked up from the flower she had been looking at since she had plucked it a few moments ago. Looking at me she asked, "And what happens on Friday nights?"

"Oh, nothing really," I objected. "Just... Derek plays soccer, and I usually stay late for that. Then I put the kids to bed and Aaron and I just chat over tea or something. It's very relaxing."

"Mmm-HM."

"That's all. It's just a nice, relaxing way to end the week."

"Mmm-HMM..."

"What? Are you jealous that I'm moonlighting with another family on the side? They do pay me to be there, you know."

"No, I'm not jealous. It's just... you see the kids all week. But it's Friday night that you like best. The time when the kids are out of the picture."

"Oh, stop it!" I warned her. "You're reading it wrong. I like going to Derek's games and having dinner as a... a group." I cringed inwardly, realizig I had almost said family. "And yes, having a little adult conversation to end my day."

"Adult conversation?" Macy giggled.

"You are so immature," I sighed, feigning exasperation.

"Well, be that as it may, just be careful, babe. Don't stumble into some bad situation with Mr. Secret Drug Habit just because you're on shaky ground after Jared."

"I know..." I said wistfully.

"I mean it, Denise," Macy's voice got serious. "You were practically in a codependent relationship with your brother all through your teens. Don't do that again!"

"I know, I know," I assured her. "So... know any single women I could set him up with? He's handsome. And stable. And kind."

Macy narrowed her eyes and seemed to seriously consider it for a moment. "Nope," was all she said before changing the topic.

*******

"Kara is very worried about you," Dottie said, without a hint of subtlety. We were in the shelter's dining area, going through some things that needed her official approval.

"Yeah, she's worried I'm afraid of commitment," I replied. I handed Dottie another form to sign. To her credit, she skimmed every page before signing.

"Are you? Afraid?" she asked as she signed her name and handed it back in exchange for another document. I kept my eyes on the papers in front of me, but I felt her stare.

"No," I said, as confidently as I could. "It's not fear. It's just... I was with a guy who wanted me to be someone else. I know I'm not even sure who I am or what I want in life, but I know I didn't want what he wanted. So maybe I need to spend some time figuring out who I am and what I want before I can be serious about a guy."

Dottie spent a moment skimming the page I had just handed her, signed it, then said simply, "Poppycock."

"Excuse me?"

"Nonsense," she went on. "I don't know why I keep hearing people talking about 'figuring out who you are' before getting married. As if that's something that isn't going to change once you're married."

"What do you mean?" I asked, knowing better than to be insulted by Dottie's curt dismissal of what I had just said. In her 60-some years she had picked up more wisdom than most people, and I knew her well enough to know that she cared.

"You may figure out who you are now," she began, as if waiting for my question, "but the moment you get married, who you are changes. And five years, ten years later - you're a completely different person. You never marry a finished product. You marry a process, a never-ending process."