10
Imanage a week without significant contact with Jamie. Which is a good thing.
Only…it sucks.
And I hate it.
I see him in the pickup and drop-off lines, and when I pick Aiden up from football, and that’s it. We’re well into the school year now, and Cora and I are buried in work, so we barely have time to see each other, let alone spend any time outside of work.
Jamie is everywhere, however, and that makes it hard. He’s really thrown himself into the community, working hard to make his presence known and felt, to establish roots. He’s helping coach the youth football league, and he’s joined the poker group at Vinnie’s on Tuesday nights, and he attends community forum meetings—this being the boring small town it is, there’s a community forum about something pretty much every week—and he’s informally joined the school board. He even goes to Al’s gym with Matty and a few of the other younger guys in town.
I just can’t get away from him. Which makes my life feel impossible, like some karmic, cosmic joke. Like, hey—here’s this great guy, we had a great time, we’re attracted to each other, my son adores him, he’s everywhere all the time, but I just can’t get past my hang-up. I watch Aiden get closer and closer to Jamie, especially on the football field, and it only reinforces my resolution to not get involved with him: Aiden loves him enough as it is. If he got the slightest hint that Jamie and I were dating…well…I honestly don’t know how he’d react. Would he be upset? Confused? Excited? A little of everything, probably.
And if/when Jamie and I broke up, I just know for certain that Aiden wouldn’t be okay.
So the status quo remains: I try to keep my distance, try to remain neutral, and Jamie gives me looks and smiles that threaten my resolve, and he showers Aiden with attention and praise and it melts my heart, and Aiden talks about Jamie nonstop and my heart cracks and throbs…and I remember what would happen to Aiden if it were to be anything but what it is now, and—
And the cycle starts all over again.
Fifth week of school, a Thursday, two in the afternoon, near the end of the school day. Lots of students, today—lots of questions, lots of athletic eligibility issues, lots of seniors trying to decide on college…a busy day.
There’s a timid knock on my doorframe. I look up.
“Mrs. Thomas?” It’s Jen.
“Hey, Jen, come on in.” I minimize the window I’m working in, put the screen to sleep, and turn to face Jen as she perches on the edge of the seat opposite my desk. “What’s up, honey? Is everything all right?”
Jen shrugs, but her lower lip is quivering, and her eyes fill with tears. “I…”
I hand her a Kleenex, and she dabs at her eyes. “Take your time.”
She lets out a shaky breath, glances at the ceiling and blinks hard. “Okay, okay.” She shakes her hands, as if that will somehow stop her from crying. “Um. So…I kind of asked Rob if he would want to ever go somewhere with me.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Wow, Jen! That’s awesome!”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s not, because he said—”
I hold up my hands. “Let me stop you real quick, Jen. I’ll let you finish, but you need to listen to me first. I’m proud of you for taking a step for yourself. For having the courage and confidence to do that. I know how hard and scary that must have been, and I think it’s seriously inspiring that you did it at all. It doesn’t matter what he said, because the very fact that you had the courage to ask him out is the coolest thing I’ve heard all year. So be proud of yourself, regardless of the outcome.”
She nods, trying to smile and not quite succeeding. “Thanks. I didn’t think of it that way.”
“That’s my job—to give you a different perspective.”
“It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Rob is, like, the king of Clayton High School.”
I nod. “I know, believe me.”
“And so does he,” Jen says.
I offer her a sympathetic smile. “So. What did Rob say to you?”
She sniffles, tilts her head backward again, and then takes a deep breath. “He told me he was flattered, but that he wouldn’t want to lead me on, because I’m just not his type.”
“Oh gosh, the not-my-type excuse,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Yeah. Not his type.” She ducks her head.
“And what did you say to that?”
