“I’m at work, too.” I look around and realize (for the millionth time) that I love my job. It’s not easy, but it’s wonderful. “I’m pushing Laurel through the park in a stroller, and tonight... Tonight, Artie and I are going out to dinner.”My first date.I was never supposed to date, or even live to see adulthood, not if my parents had their way.
Lesha’s voice is excited at first. “Girl, what!? Oh my gosh!” But it turns grave. “Wait, isn’t Artie your boss?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a big no-no, hon. He’s got all the power. He can’t be asking you out to dinner.”
“But I like him. He offered and then said I could just take the money and go out myself or with a friend, but Iwantto go with him. And he treats me like a princess—well, he treats me like a princess if the prince were on a tight budget. Lesha, I think I... I think I’m in love.”
“Oh, girl. You’re just on a high. You’ve finally gotten out of an oppressive situation. You think the first decent man is your Prince Charming. Don’t be fooled like that, or you’ll end up backin the same kind of situation, trapped as some housewife, under his thumb.”
“But that’s not... But that’s not what Artie and I talk about. He helps me take classes, and he’s helping me get all of my papers, helping me file for a birth certificate since—since my stepfather has all my papers,” I fib to hide the darker explanation. I go to the library, and shopping, and I have other friends. They come over for coffee, and I meet up with them at the library.”
“All in a week?”
“All in a week. I love this town. People are friendly, and they like me for who I am.”
“Aww, hon. That’s great. But don’t think a place is too great after a week. Or that a man is too great after anything short of six months. You don’t see a person’s true colors until they’re under stress, frustrated, broke, exhausted...”
“Like raising a baby he adopted because no one else wanted, even though he never had a dad, grew up in foster care, and works a job that can have him on call nights, weekends, or the wee hours of the morning? A lot of new expenses on one income. In a new town. First time in his own home, not an apartment?” I blurt out the list as the same sudden, vicious protective streak that hits me anytime I think of Laurel being mistreated hits me again. Deeper. Lower. I don’t mean to unleash on my friend, and I quickly find myself afraid I’ve alienated her. “I w-was just giving some examples,” I conclude with a nervous cough.
“That’s your boss? Doing all that?”
“Mmhm. And the little girl... Well, she has special needs. We’ve found out that some might not affect her as much as he thought, but yeah. He didn’t know that, and he still took her in. He’s her father. Legally. His name is on her birth certificate.” Or it will be soon, I think to myself, knowing that the birth certificate request is in process, even if we’re waiting a few weeksto decide if my name will be on it, too. I don’t care if it seems “shady” to some people. They don’t know the story. They don’t know that there are different versions of right and wrong. Giving Laurel to strangers is wrong. She’s Artie’s daughter at heart. I was legally Barton’s child, I suppose. Born to his wife while he was still her husband. If I’d been born in a hospital, I suppose they would have put his name on the birth certificate, and I would be legally bound to him forever.
I can’t think of anything more wrong than the way he raised me, or anything more right than the loving way Artie is trying to raise Laurel.
“He’s patient. He found out that I’d never been a nanny before, Lesha, and he didn’t lose his temper, or fire me, or threaten me. He’s only ever offered to help me. He’s teaching me to cook. I’m going to ask him to teach me how to drive so I can get my license.” I stand up straighter and walk taller in my new clothes, ones that Chloe says are “vintage” but that I love—clingy ribbed sweaters, low jeans that hug my hips, and platform boots that fit my half-hooved feet. “I’m happy. For the first time ever.”
Lesha lets out a long sigh that has some muttered curses tossed in. “I’m glad, I guess. But promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid, like run off and have a quickie wedding. Or sleep with him because he’s the first decent man you’ve ever met.”
I’m silent. I want to be with Artie, and I want to have a family of my own. I don’t want to rush... But part of me feels like I was imprisoned for all of my life and that if something goes wrong—I could end up back there. I want all of the experiences now, while I’m free and happy, even if I’m also scared to have them.
“Tell me you didn’t?” Lesha hisses.
“Didn’t what?”
“Sleep with this dude!”
“No! But... but I kissed him. I wanted to! And he wasn’t pushy, Lesha. I promise.” I blush and smile at the memory of his awed face, his almost reverent gaze. “He looked up at me like I was some kind of goddess.”
“Is this guy some weak ass little nerd who can’t get a date and you’re the only woman he’s ever set eyes on or something?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand, stung.
“Nothing about you! Just him. He sounds good, but if a little kiss spins his head that much... Look, just make sure you take your time. Don’t do anything stupid or rash. He might seem nice, and I admit the man is juggling a whole battle royale of stress and hardships. I don’t want you to get hurt by jumping in with both feet on for him to then yank the trampoline away.”
I squint into the afternoon sun, trying to follow that mix of praise, caution, and metaphor. I can tell Lesha is worried about me. Really worried. She cares about me.
I’m glowing again. “You really are my friend,” I whisper. “My first one.”
“Damn straight I am.”
“M-maybe you could come over around the holidays and meet him? I bet you’d like him.”
“I bet I would,” her voice softens. “But promise you’ll take things slow?”
“I promise.” We chat for a while longer, but in my mind, one little phrase keeps repeating.
