God, I really need to spend more time at my own place.
“I’m as I’ve always been. A very happy bachelor,” I say proudly.
Before any of them can comment, my phone vibrates in my shorts, so I fish it out and look at it with a smile as the first words of a message appear. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a dirty text to read.”
I escape to my room to read the rest of Duck’s message, happy to know my private life is still very much a secret.
CHAPTER FIVE
Eden
As Ava digsthrough the diaper bag to find what she needs to change her very smelly younger son, I hold Matty in my outstretched arms trying to avoid the stink. It doesn’t work. I don’t know what speed the smell of baby shit travels, but it has no problem conquering the just over two foot length of my arms.
“Jesus, Ava, what are you guys feeding this kid?” I ask as customers at the mall walk by and stare, their expressions pure revulsion.
She triumphantly pulls out the baby wipes that must have sneaked their way to the bottom of the diaper bag and waves me toward where we know there’s a bathroom in one of the stores. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry. A little baby poop never hurt anyone. We’ll just pop into that place over there and use the ladies’ room.”
As I follow her while she pushes the stroller, Matty squeals with delight and I continue to breathe through my mouth and try to avoid the nasty glares of fellow shoppers who clearly don’t agree with Ava’s belief that everything is okay and a little babyshit never hurt anyone. I love my friend and her kids, but at this very moment, I’m wondering if I side with the disgusted people more than her.
Ten minutes, half a dozen baby wipes, and one little boy who pees when he’s cleaned because like most males he can’t control himself later, the smell is gone and we’re finally able to return to what we came to the mall for in the first place. Ava said she wanted to go shopping to find a gift for Eleanor’s birthday, but I have a sneaking suspicion we’re here for another reason.
One that has more to do with me.
Ava touches the sweaters on the cardigan rack and sighs. “I spend every day with this woman, but I swear I don’t know what she’d like for her birthday. What should I do?”
I glance at a forest green sweater with fake wood buttons down the front and cringe. “Not buy that. What does Eleanor like to do in her spare time?”
That question stops Ava in her tracks, and she stares at me like I just asked her to explain the meaning of life. Matty makes a cooing sound I hope to God doesn’t mean he’s going to the bathroom again. Seriously, what are they feeding this child?
“I don’t know,” Ava answers looking completely dejected. “How can that be? The woman lives in my house. I’ve known her all my life. I see her every day, and we talk. Like real conversations, not just what the weather’s like and what’s for dinner. What is wrong with me, Eden?”
She looks like she’s about to break down into tears, so I quickly wrap my arm around her and give her a sympathetic squeeze. “Nothing is wrong with you. You just don’t know what gift to get someone. As for your kid, well, there may be something up with his digestive system. Did he just shit again?”
Ava glares at me for my language, so I quickly apologize. “Sorry. I forgot we aren’t all adults here. I think he’s stinky again, though.”
Bending down, she takes a big sniff of the stroller and then stands up, shaking her head. “No. It’s just residual stink. Now help me find something Eleanor would like. Please?”
I don’t bother to ask what residual stink is, and we continue to look through the department store, the two of us vetoing every idea each of us comes up with. Finally, I stop her and ask, “She’s like your mother, right? Well, what would you get your mother if it were her birthday?”
She thinks about that for a minute and says, “Either a pair of slippers or something for cooking.”
Not exactly what I would want for my birthday, but I’m not Eleanor.
“Okay. What about a new appliance she might like? Something that would make her job easier?”
That sounds horrible to me. It’s like buying a woman a vacuum cleaner for a present. Who the hell wants something like that for her birthday? Women want wining and dining and great sex to cap off a wonderful night. Or jewelry. Anything but appliances.
Then again, Eleanor has to be close to sixty, and I’ve never heard Ava say anything about a man in her life, so perhaps she’d enjoy something utilitarian for her birthday. It still seems like a lame gift.
Ava pushes the stroller through the store like a woman on a mission now. I follow along, happy we have some direction and that Matty’s butt isn’t giving off stink anymore. She stops in the kitchenware section, and even though I think this is the last place to search for a gift for a woman you love, she points to a set of pots and pans.
“What do you think?”
I struggle to find the right words. “It’s nice?”
She sees through my poor attempt to hide how little I think of this gift. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? Who wants to get a set of pots andpans for a birthday present? God, what is wrong with me? I want to get her something that shows how much I love having her in our lives, and I’m blowing it.”
“Aww, Ava, you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. Let’s just look around and see if anything jumps out at you. I bet we can find her something really nice that she’ll love.”
