Page 84 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess
We should probably get a new TV for this room. I mentally add that to my to-do list. I’ll need to talk to someone over in security, but it shouldn’t be a problem.
“All right,” I say, slipping past Maya to sit in the chair. It’s a tight fit, bringing me close enough to smell her vanilla scent, feel the heat radiating from her body, but I force my mind to my most recent crossword puzzle and don’t let myself linger.
I settle into the seat, and though I don’t turn around, I can feel Maya at my back, leaning over my shoulder a bit. I crane my neck to see the tiny buttons at the bottom of the monitor, locating the power button and giving it a punch. The TV splutters on, letting out a staticky crackle before revealing the security footage. The place is empty now, of course, the images devoid of movement. I search the screen, which is divided into six frames, and find the footage from the gym in the top right corner. Then I locate the rewind button and push it.
“Let’s see, let’s see…” I mutter under my breath, my eyes following the date and time in the corner of the screen. I don’t really know when any of this would have happened, so I’m making sure I watch the image of the exercise room as well, keeping my gaze on the wall of lockers—specifically, on the one I know to be locker twelve. It’s in the bottom right corner, and so far I haven’t seen anyone approach it. In fact, the exercise room apparently gets surprisingly few visitors, aside from three or four regulars that seem to frequent the place.
I’m only watching for two more minutes before I determine that every security personnel in the history of the world needs a pay raise, because staring at this footage nonstop is torture. Things don’t improve when, from behind me, I hear a little whimper, followed by some rustling and some baby grunts.
Our youngest passenger is no longer zonked, it seems.
I turn to look at Archer, but Maya is already bent over, unclipping each of the billion clasps and locks and then pulling him out of his car seat. She uses her other hand to pull the diaper bag closer, unzipping it and rummaging around.
“Your range of motion is pretty good in that hand,” I say, pointing at her wrapped left wrist.
“I can use the fingers okay,” she says. “Definitely couldn’t do any handstands, but it’s not as bad as I worried it would be.” Then she looks back to Archer. “Hi, baby,” she coos, and I smile when Archer’s chubby little fist reaches out for her, as though wanting to pull her closer.
I understand the sentiment.
“Go ahead and look away,” she says to me, jerking her chin toward the screen. “I’m going to breastfeed him and see if he goes back to sleep.”
I point down to the chair I’m using. “Do you want to sit?” Granted, I’ve never breastfed a child, but I’ve got to think it’s harder standing up.
“Oh.” She looks surprised but relieved as she says, “Yeah, actually. That would be great.”
I nod, standing up and pushing the chair back against the wall for her to use. Then I move back to the monitor, kneeling on the floor and going back to this security footage. “Let me know when you’re done,” I say.
She hums her ascent, a dreamy, content sound that hooks right behind my navel andtugs. I want what she has—someone she loves so completely, so openly. And it’s plain to see that she does love Archer completely. Sure, she’s mentioned that being a single parent is a lonely gig, but never once have I seen her acting resentful toward Archer for all the things he needs and the time he takes up.
She’s…well, she’s kind of amazing. She’s an amazing mother, and she’s amazingly strong.
Sitting here thinking about Maya isn’t going to get me anywhere at this very moment, though. In fact, it’s just going to distract me from the job I’m actually supposed to be doing. So I shake my head a little—not sure why, since it’s not like it will dislodge her from my brain, but whatever—and then peer more intently at the screen. I watch people come and go for probably ten minutes, and I even see some people go to the lockers, but never locker twelve.
And I’m about ready to give up—about ready to go check out the locker in person again. It’s getting late, and Maya undoubtedly needs to get Archer home, and I still want to ask her out.
But that’s when I see something on the screen, someone over by locker twelve for the first time.
I lean forward, ignoring the smarting in my knees and squinting at the image. I watch as a figure ambles toward locker twelve, stooping over and opening it. The figure remains in that position for a couple seconds, then stands up, turning around. I hit pause when a face becomes clear.
I jump at the sound of Maya’s voice, speaking from right over my shoulder. “Is that—”
“It is,” I say grimly. I rewind the tape, watching again just to make sure, but there’s no mistaking the person on the screen.
“Wow,” she says in a low voice. “I’ve got to say, I didn’t see that one coming.”
“Neither did I,” I admit. “And this is going to be a real pain.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, and though I’m not looking at her in case she’s still feeding Archer, I can hear the wince in her voice. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
It’s nice of her, but I’m going to have to handle this one on my own. I get to my feet and eject the tape, and the screen goes black. Then I say, “Are you decent?”
“I’m decent,” she confirms, and I turn around to see her standing behind me, Archer cradled in her arms, looking contentedly around the room.
I grab Archer’s car seat, noting the absence of his weight, and once we leave, I lock the door behind me.
“Here,” Maya says. “Let me put him back in.”
So we stop for a moment while she buckles him in, and then we’re moving again.
