While We have This Moment Ch. 02

"Then how do you know you're marrying the right person?"

Dottie leaned back and laughed long and hard. "First tell me what color the equator is," she said cryptically. Then settling back in her seat she skimmed another document, adjusting her glasses to see more clearly. "It's not about a square peg trying to find a square hole," she said. "But it's about shaping yourself around the person you commit to. That's what the commitment is all about - promising to change and adapt together."

I took the last signed page and processed what I had heard. Dottie got up to leave but was stopped by a toddler grabbing her leg. One of the families currently staying in the shelter's temporary apartments had been sitting at a nearby table eating dinner. I had long ago learned to drown out the sound of young children making noise and their presence had barely registered with me. I looked over at the mom. I recalled treating her at the clinic a few weeks ago. Bruising on the face, black eye, lost tooth. She had tripped in a dark room and hit her face on the table, she said. Then moved into the shelter with her two kids - one a toddler and the other looking at least ten years old. Her face looked a lot better now, even if her spirits weren't much improved.

As Dottie got up to leave, she hugged the small child and looked over at the other table. "Morgan," she said, "how was the job interview yesterday?"

"It was good, I think," the woman said in a soft voice.

"Good, good," said Dottie as she walked out the door. "We're all praying for you."

The woman - Morgan - came over to collect her child. But instead of leaving, she sat down where Dottie had been a moment ago.

"I know it's not my business," she said, "but I heard you two talking. And I just want to say that you should never pass up a good man just because he doesn't fit the picture of your life that you have right now. And if he only wanted you if you fit a certain kind of life, then he never loved you to begin with. He loved something else and put your face on it. You're much better of without him."

Apparently this was a morning for unsolicited but good advice. "That's kind of you," I replied. "Thanks."

She looked at me and seemed like she was about to say more, but then sheepishly turned her head away and said, "It's none of my business, I'm sorry." Then she stood to leave and called to her oldest child, "Conner, come on." As the boy dutifully joined his mother, Morgan looked at me one last time and said, "I left a really good guy once because of small stuff that wouldn't matter in the end. All because I had a picture of the perfect life and he didn't fit. Don't... don't miss out on a guy who is good to you."

Then, putting a hand on her son's back and scooping a toddler into her arms, she shuffled her little family away. I wondered about her story. Gina would know, but she wouldn't say anything. The bruises told me enough, I guess.

What is the small stuff that doesn't matter in the end?

*******

I love early October. The heat has moved on, but autumn is not really enforcing its presence. The leaves are still mostly green but the weather is cooling. And in Aaron's creek, that meant the fish were biting. The next Friday evening (Derek's soccer season had ended weeks before), the kids and I finally convinced Aaron to go fishing with us. I brought an extra rod and the kids squealed with laughter at their father's failed attempts to bait a hook. Despite the late hour and all the noise, we even got a few bites. Maya caught her first fish that she was able to reel in by herself. It was still another hour until sunset, and even though we had already eaten dinner, I promised the kids that, if we caught a big enough fish, I would cook it for us. Maya's was still too small, but the kids were determined.

During one prolonged silence, as all four of us were staring into the water, Aaron leaned back and caught my attention. "I'm starting to understand the attraction in this," he said, then returned his gaze to the water. Just then, my phone started buzzing an incoming call. I glanced at it and saw it was my dad. My parents and I had a standing appointment to talk every Sunday and Thursday evening, and since it was Friday, I wondered what had come up in the past 24 hours that couldn't wait.

I reeled in my line and set it on the ground as I walked a few yards away.

"Hey Dad, what's up?" I asked, noticing that Aaron was watching with some curiosity.

"How are you, honey?" he asked, his voice soft.

"I'm OK. Just fishing with some friends. What's going on? Is everyone OK?" I was starting to worry.

"Well, no. Not exactly. They uh... They found Brett this morning. The police did."

Well, that was nothing new. The police were often finding Brett. "And..." I prompted.

"He was dead. Maybe for a few days. That... that's all we know right now. They just contacted us, we have to go identify the body now. Don't... You don't need to come home yet... we'll let you know. There might be an autopsy or something." My dad continued to share what few details they knew, but his words were hard to hear.

I tried not to cry, I really did. I looked over at the kids, and they were still fully engaged in their fishing. Aaron was keeping one eye on me as I walked away. I didn't know what to do. I knew I needed to get home... to my house at least... and figure things out from there. I rushed back into Aaron's house to gather my things.

I first went to the bathroom sink to wash my face. The tears were making it hard to see straight. After I dried off, I found my purse and keys and looked around for anything else I might have brought. The back door opened and then closed again softly. I turned to see Aaron, a worried look on his face. He approached me and stood a few steps back.

"What's wrong, Denise?" he asked gently.

I needed a hug. I stepped forward and leaned against his chest, my arms clutched close to my body. Aaron wrapped his arms around me and squeezed lightly one time before relaxing his grip. It was perfect.

I sighed and choked out an explanation. "My brother died. They just found his body."

"Oh, God, Denise. I'm so sorry," he said, pulling me close again.

"I need to go home," I said, not making any move to do so.

"I can drive you," he said.

"No, I'll be fine," I argued.

"Then wait until you can see clearly," he pressed. I knew he was right but was just unable to act rationally. Aaron guided us to the couch, where I reclined against him, still wrapped in his strong, comforting arms. I stayed there, sobbing tearlessly for a few minutes.

"They think it was some of the drugs he was taking. He passed out or something. In a rental room alone in Tampa. He was dead a few days when they found him." I didn't mean it as a warning or indictment against Aaron, but I hoped he would hear in it some cautionary word about his future.

Aaron didn't speak. And honestly, what words would have sufficed? If he had said something like "It'll be OK," I probably would have resented it. His silence was all I needed. I listened to his steady breathing, and I could hear his steady heartbeat while my ear was on his chest. I felt myself calming down from the initial shock. It would be OK. But Brett was gone. And with him died my hopes for his future. He had been at rock bottom for so long, I had been praying he would start to climb back up.

I closed my eyes. I felt safe. I smelled bait... and fish... and dirt... and home.

"Denise, what can I do to help?" Aaron asked softly, soft enough that I could have ignored his question if I wanted to.

I didn't answer, but I looked up, adjusting my position to see his face better. Those eyes. I remembered getting lost in them the first time we met. That faint blue that resolved into gray. That sadness and strength. The loving father, the rejected lover, the struggling addict. That beautiful man.

I'm not sure which of us was more surprised by my kiss, but that didn't prevent him from returning it back to me with more force than I had given it. As soon as I felt his response, I twisted in his lap until our bodies were facing each other, my breasts against his chest. We both took a deep breath, then pressed our lips together again. His hands very hesitantly touched my arms, giving me chills. I rubbed his shoulders and chest, trying to keep my hips from rubbing into him. I was afraid what I would find if I pressed down. And I was excited to think of it.

In that moment, my sadness and fear and frustration melted into that kiss. I wasn't the least bit confused or worried. It all made sense. I felt driven less by hormones and more by passion. Not so much a desire for his body but affection for him.

I don't know how far we would have gone if we had been able to continue. But the sound of the back door being slammed open shocked me back to my senses. "Shit!" Aaron whispered. I leaped up and was walking into the kitchen before both kids had even gotten through the door. They were proudly displaying a larger fish - big enough to fry.

"Who... who caught it?" I asked, finding my voice. My hands were shaking and I didn't dare turn to look behind me.

"We both did!" Derek said proudly.

"It was Derek's line, but we both pulled it in," Maya explained, grinning broadly.

"Can we cook it?" Derek asked excitedly.

"Actually," said Aaron, clearing his throat as he walked up behind me, "Miss Denise might need to leave. But I'm sure we can save it for next time."

"Awww!" the kids protested.

"No, it's OK," I said. "There's nothing like a fresh fish," I explained. "Besides, I could use a little distraction right now." I looked up at Aaron. "Is that OK?" I asked softly. "I'll leave after dinner."

Aaron seemed conflicted, but knew he was trapped. He nodded his assent, and the kids cheered. I had them follow me outside and watch how I prepared the fish. Derek threw up a little but still watched, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Maya was a little green but insisted on seeing it through.

I did a quick job seasoning and cooking it, and even though the kids were less than enthusiastic about the taste at first, their zeal over eating something they had personally caught made them eager enough to finish it. Aaron was silent through the whole meal, and I was afraid to make eye contact with him. I was confused. Were my worries just about small stuff that wouldn't matter in the end? Aaron was a good man, a very good man. And I couldn't deny the attraction. But this - his family, his life, his...issues - they didn't really fit the life I was planning.

After we ate, Aaron told me to leave the dishes for him to get later. As he walked me to the door, he spoke quietly, "I'll adjust my hours next week - you can go home or wherever you need to go. Just let me know when... if..."

"When," I asserted.

"...when you're coming back," he finished.

"Thank you," I said, wanting to kiss him good-bye but not feeling welcome to do so. His body language was distant, and I guessed he was worried about the kids.

I started to leave and he gently took hold of my arm. I turned expectantly and saw his pained expression. "That... that was probably inappropriate. I'm sorry... I shouldn't have-"

"It's OK," I assured him. "We can figure it out when I get back." He accepted that answer and let go of my arm. I hurried to get home before the tears started again. And what would I tell Macy?

*******