Page 37 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess
I shrug. “I thought I’d come check out the hot gossip.” Then I add, “I just saw everyone over here and thought I would come and say hi.”
I’m keeping up the conversation well enough—although maybe not since I just used the term “hot gossip”—but mentally, I’m stuck on the way my thigh is now brushing against Maya’s under the table. I can smell her, too, and I was right; she smells like vanilla.
She laughs. “The hot gossip? Really?”
I smile the tiniest bit as I remove the lid from my salad container. “Yeah. The hot gossip. The latest info. Whatever you want to call it.” I nod at the crowd of people—mostly women, I notice now—who are still gathered round, cooing at Archer. “You’ve made quite a few friends.”
Maya gives me a wry smile. “I know. I actually came here to get some work done, but so far I haven’t had a chance. Too many people want to make faces at my child.”
I pause, my fork halfway to my mouth. “What work are you doing?” I ask, interested.
“Graphic design,” she answers promptly. “For a company in St. Louis. Right now I’m redoing their website and their letterheads.”
“Wow,” I say, finally taking a bite of my salad.
Maya’s eyes narrow at me. “You sound impressed but surprised. Like you assumed I wouldn’t be working or doing anything productive. How do you think I’m paying rent every month?”
I swallow quickly so I can tell her she’s wrong—only I swallowtooquickly, and my food isn’t completely chewed yet. I choke for a minute, coughing so loudly that Archer begins to whimper, until finally everything gets down the correct pipe.
“Sorry,” I rasp, wiping tears from my eyes and looking up at the now-silent group around us.
Everyone is staring at me. Everyone. All the people who were looking at Archer now have their eyes on me.
And then, when Archer lets out one plaintive cry, all those gazes narrow, and I am suddenly the recipient of fifteen death glares.
“Sorry,” I say again, more quietly this time. The people surrounding us begin to disperse, and I wonder if it’s because Archer is no longer making cute faces. Maya moves at expert speeds, though; she switches Archer from one side to the other and seemingly pulls a bottle out of nowhere, popping it in his mouth.
“I was surprised,” I say to her, taking a swig from my water bottle. “But not because I didn’t think you could do things. I just hadn’t given it much thought. And I’m not very well-versed in what single motherhood looks like,” I admit.
“I’ll tell you what single motherhood looks like,” she says with that same wry smile from before. This time, though, there’s a sadness in her eyes. “It looks like sleep deprivation and piles of laundry everywhere. It looks like paper plates and plastic utensils because you have limited time and you don’t want to waste it doing dishes. It looks…” She trails off, and then she sighs. “Lonely. It looks lonely. But also wonderful.”
She smiles down at Archer, and for a second it seems like she’s forgotten I’m even here. I might almost prefer it that way, because what do I say to her? How can I possibly pretend to sympathize when I so obviously have no idea what it’s like to be a single mom—oranykind of mom, for that matter?
“And it’s not that bad, really. I’ve figured out how to get things done,” she adds absentmindedly. “The handicap shower is big enough that I can put Archer in his baby bath and put the baby bath in the shower, all whileI’mshowering. I keep him out of the spray while I clean off, and then I bathe him. That way I don’t have to leave him alone while I’m in the shower.”
I don’t particularly want to think about Maya in the shower, but it’s not like I can say anything, so I stay silent.
“And there’s the shuttle for when I’m so sleep deprived that I don’t feel safe getting behind the wheel,” she goes on. “Plus my uncle Frank lives right across the street, and he helps watch him if need be. So we get by.”
I feel a little tug of guilt as I listen to her. It sounds like she actuallydoesneed the sort of amenities Sunset Horizons offers, even if she’s not using them in the conventional ways.
And I was originally imagining her just relaxing in all that extra space, or being too partied-out to get home on her own. Great. I mightactuallybe the world’s biggest jerk.
“And the stair lift?” I say casually. “You use that?”
She shrugs, her eyes still on Archer. “Only when he’s asleep in his carseat and I don’t want to wake him by getting him out. Then I put the carseat on the stair lift and hold it steady and walk up next to it.” She gives a snort of laughter. “But my legs and arms work fine. I’m just lazy.”
“I wouldn’t say lazy,” I murmur, watching her, fascinated by how she’sstilllooking at her baby.
I guess you don’t get tired of staring at someone you love, though—not like I’d know.
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat awkwardly and then shoving another bite of salad in my mouth. It’s a dumb thing to do, because I wasn’t done talking—so Maya, the woman who thinks I’m “stupid hot,” just looks at me and waits while I speed-chew my way through a mouth full of grilled chicken and lettuce.
“Right,” I say once I’ve swallowed, hoping I don’t look as awkward as I feel. “Well, that’s great that you’ve got a job you can do remotely. And I’m a little jealous.” I smile before going on, “I made some flyers the other day that looked horrible, because all I did was slap the words on the page and call it good.”
Maya laughs softly, and it feels so strange to be talking to her without arguing.
Strange, but…good. And promising, if we’re going to do this wedding together.
