Bowling Dreams & Cheap Wine

Chapter 4

I took Monday off from my job teaching ice skating lessons. The trip to see Daphne already feels like weeks ago. Laundry needs to be done and grocery shopping, and the added bonus of my annual exam at the OBGYN. I get to deal with that treat later today.

My house is a narrow three stories. The kitchen is on the second level overlooking a firepit built by a contractor I dated for a minute. The relationship lasted long enough for him to take $100 off the bill. Not a complete waste.

I sip my coffee and idly look at the faded cushions that have become a strange peach/coral color. Outdoor furniture is on my 'someday' list that's right up there with an entire house renovation. Movement in Nate's backyard catches my eye. I lean my head to the left as Noreen runs out with her backpack strapped to her back. Nate comes out next. "Noreen, wait," he calls out, stopping in front of her. She nods fast at what he says.

Noreen's gorgeous black hair matches her father's and I watch the two of them, thinking of all the advice people gave me over the years about raising a child, yet nobody had warned me how quickly parenting would go by. I could have used that tip instead of 'Enjoy every minute of it!' There have been many moments that have been completely unenjoyable and I suspect Nate's having one of those moments.

"Ugh." I shake my head feeling nostalgic because my baby is across the country.

Noreen rushes inside, but what's this? Nate stays. So, I stay.

He drops his hands to his hips and stretches his neck to the sky. He looks good in his gray, long-sleeve work shirt and dark jeans. He's one of those guys I who would look equally handsome in a hooded sweatshirt. Athletic shorts. Or nothing at all.

Nate paces across the length of his backyard and I watch for no other reason than I have nosey tendencies. I crane my neck, watching, putting off a dozen things I need to do. He stops and takes a note out of his back pocket, opens it, and bows his head to read what's on the card.

No really. What is he reading? "Interesting," I comment and continue to watch.

He folds the note back up, puts it in his pocket. His perceptive, dark-eyed gaze swings up to my kitchen window and I drop like a weight in the water. The coffee splashes and slides down my hand. I take one for all the neighborhood snoops. You know who you are.

When I reach my bedroom, my thoughts are stuck on Nate. I sort my laundry wondering if it's different for a single father than single mother. Sure, I had my challenges, but I was younger. If Daphne was Noreen's age now, not quite ten, I wouldn't have time for bowling and a job with weird hours. It must be hard for him. To deal with grief and raise his daughter. Should I offer to help? What would I say anyway? "Hey Nate, I've been there. Let me know if you need anything." That feels so generic and not my place,  we barely know each other. Sighing, I put away my laundry.

I spend time working on my face. The warm gold highlights do wonders for us dirty blondes. My eyes have always been brown with a tint of green, but the die-hard hazel-eyed people would probably declare me a faker. All-in-all, I feel pretty today in my caramel-colored sweater, even if it does cling to my faded black leggings.

My OBGYN's office is in walking distance. A six-walk block in this picturesque downtown with the leaves changing and scarves appearing on people's necks, though it's more humid than cool. Marylanders declare fall is fall, despite the bout of humidity that makes an annoying appearance when all we want to do is wear cozy sweaters, boots, and preferably something in between.

All that time spent flat ironing my hair? Undone in the first 30 seconds of stepping outside thanks to the sticky air.

I arrive at the office building and check in at the computer. The waiting room is empty except for a pregnant woman. They have a coffee machine so good for them. It probably helps move the pee tests along.