A sample of a book that may never be

A year ago, I was working through… a lot. Here is a sample of a project that is in my drafts folder where it may stay. Let me know if you’d like to hear more of this story.

We had made these plans months ago. We were still together at the time. But even now we had decided it was best for our son to still go as a family. I sighed, adjusting my hat to make sure it would actually block my eyes from the blinding sun and squeezed between sweaty men complaining about some player I don’t know while I chased the small human demanding red and blue ice cream. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about until his dad said, “he wants the circle dots.” 

“Ah” I acknowledge him, “how does he even remember that?” It has been months since he had been here. The season opened on Easter when his older cousin was visiting. 

“He’s already had cotton candy.” 

I shift uncomfortably as I look at the child in the shirt that’s just a little too big, currently jumping up and down and answer, “he deserves it though.” 

This had been the dynamic long before we separated. I had a very hard time saying no to something my child wanted, even more now that he’s been through so much. 

Meanwhile, his father had always been the one trying to implement structure and insist on less sugar. 

He nodded. His mouth a neutral line. “I will take him, if you wanna head to the seats.” 

I did not. But I didn’t want to spend any more time with him right now. 

The sun lighting up the blue in his eyes. Me lingering on the stubble framing his mouth. Watching how it chiseled his features into the unreal boy band worthy face. And I catch another woman looking as well.

My stomach tightens. Blood rushing to my cheeks and other areas. 

I hope he didn’t notice, but more than that, I hope he did. My mind starts going to all the places we could have even more break-up sex.  

But we do have to be responsible parents. I remember when he goes over to scoop up the toddler, or “big boy” as he insists on telling me constantly. 

“Okay buddy, let’s get some dots!” He turns to wink at me and give me a half smile as he starts walking to the massive line. 

I take my time finding the seats again, mostly because I have no interest in baseball. Or sitting in his heat, or honestly being away from my family, or maybe I did. It had been so long since my life wasn’t work or being a mom. Especially now that I didn't have someone to get up with my son in the morning, or help me with tantrums at night. 

I didn’t know how to be a human outside of myself anymore. Since starting my job I hadn’t kept up with friends, hadn’t kept up with my hygiene as much as needed, hadn’t invested in my hobbies like I used to. 

It is amazing how actually being required to physically be in the office to work was so different from the telework I had gotten used to. I could no longer set my own hours or work from 9-12 and then 5-9 to fit in my hours. I could no longer use the excuse of curriculum building or coffee dates with colleagues as work time. 

No, I had to be there physically. It was exhausting. For being a line manager of an online ordering company it involves a lot of moving, lifting, and just being physically “on” than I was used to doing. 

I found myself reminiscing on my time working for the Church. The volunteers I had grown close to, the jokes I had with my bosses (who had all been priests), the kids that I had worked with who had really left an impact on me even years later. And also all of the hundreds of people I had impacted so personally that were just a drop in the bucket for me.

But there were plenty of things I didn’t miss. 

I couldn’t even tell where our seats were in the crowded stands. I glanced at a “beware of fly balls” signs and thought, oh great. Just what I would need.

I started down the steps, still not fully paying attention- a constant problem for me if I am being honest- children rushed by. The steps were pretty tight so this action threw me off balance and before I knew it gravity was taking me down. An arm grabbed me fast and I fell against a hard chest. I steadied myself against the bicep in front of my face. 

“I am so sorry,” a low voice said. As he exhaled I smelt something that unlocked memories I didn’t know I had. In that scent laid innocence, heartbreak, passion, acceptance, joy, sorrow—love. I knew it instantly. It felt like coming home after a long time and still having everything be—perfect.   

I stood shocked. My breath caught in my throat. I’m not sure how much time passed while I hid under my baseball cap. I  slowly raised my head so I was almost face to face with my phantom. 

His eyes widened in recognition, I took a step back but my foot wasn’t quite on the stair so I fell into him with almost more force than the first time. 

“James.” I breathed. My hand was against his chest which was still more muscled than seemed fair.

“Hi.” He answered, obviously uncomfortable. His posture straightened, still ridiculous around women it seemed. 

He awkwardly adjusted to be as far away from me in the small place as possible. 

I just stared and wondered if I still looked hot or if my make-up had sweated off. I sucked in my stomach and regretted wearing these old shorts that didn’t highlight my ass. Did I remember to brush my teeth this morning? Was my deodorant okay? 

He blinked. Still stilted then glanced above my head. 

“Shoot, I’ve got to catch up with them. Sorry” 

He ran up the stairs and just as quickly as he had come he was gone. I was left alone clinging to the hand railing. This was a familiar scene for us. 

“Avery!” I heard a different familiar voice call. I looked around and saw it- um him several rows to my right. 

“That’s the wrong row, we are over here!” 

I made my way over still shocked and dissociated a bit and sat next to my son, who was excitedly showing me a photo of him with the mascot who apparently they’d gotten to meet at the gate. I tried to engage but couldn’t. I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

I met my ex's eyes with confusion. He said, “isn’t that so fun momma?” There was an edge to his voice and annoyance in his eyes.  Being neuro-divergent and being with a neurotypical person could cause a lot of frustration and misunderstanding. 

I rubbed my temple, “that’s so great, cookie!” That placated the child and he turned back to watch the game. 

Wait, James had been with children? Children older than my son. That wasn’t possible- how could that be?

Then I remembered a toddler who couldn’t quite pronounce my name. The same squinting chocolate eyes that he had. The same nose of his dad. The same not curly, but not straight hair. 

His sister. His sister had a kid, maybe more by now. It had been 7 years after all. I sat there trying to block the memories from coming back to my head. I had spent enough time in therapy getting over him. I had to fight every fiber of my being to not go running through the stands trying to find him. Why was he here? We lived 8 hours apart last I checked. 

Then I noticed the color of the other team. I hadn’t bothered to check who we were playing. It was his team. The team he had sheepishly tuned into on our second date just to check the score on the way back from our hike. 

I looked everywhere for him after the game was over, but of course in the thousands of people he was lost to me. Again. 

I was quiet on the car ride home and my son’s dad prattled on about some new internet thing I didn’t understand or care about. I looked at my son sleeping in the back, wondering if the red cheeks were from sunburn or just running a little too hot. 

My son looked way too much like his father. There was no question as to who his father was, if anything it was my genes that were questionable. A slight red hue to his hair that appears in the sun is his only resemblance of me. 

When we pulled up to my apartment I heard Greg’s voice break into my thoughts. “Where is your car?”

I couldn’t catch myself from gulping and widening my eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your concern.” In reality it had hit the guardrail when I took a turn too fast and the passenger side door no longer opened, so my mom gave me some money to get it fixed. 

He sighed and started to say something but stopped himself. 

“See you on Saturday,” I said as I heaved our son out of his carseat. He immediately snuggled into my shoulder snoring against my neck, still a little too hot and sticky with sweat. Why did anyone find baseball enjoyable? 

I put him on the couch so he could finish napping but wasn’t down for the night. Then I rushed to my bedroom. On the top shelf of my closet was an old cardboard box that had moved with me 4 times. Inside was all my ex-boyfriend memorabilia and journals and letters I had written. 

I opened it looking for an old envelope that had been my solace for a while in grad school and the ensuing therapy I needed afterwards. I pulled out the letter that was tattered with being folded and unfolded many times. 

I read the words. “He says he still loves me, but he’s made up his mind. He is leaving me to be a PRIEST.”