Chapter Three
Hazel
Part of me thinks I made a fool of myself with Grant, while the other part says, who cares? I'm a single woman and I'm not going to let anything hold me back. Besides, what’ve I got to lose? Sure, it could make for some awkward soccer games for the rest of Mason’s season, but then I could never see him again for the rest of my life. No harm done.
Past me would’ve never batted an eye in Grant’s direction because there was no shot he would look at me. Now? Well, he still might not look at me, but why not take that chance?
It’s taken a lot of personal growth to get to this point. When you don’t look like the other women in your life, your mind plays some games on you. I was gifted with large curves that I can’t decide if I want to accentuate or hide. Nothing like the slim, athletic build my sister inherited from our mother. But there’s no changing the width of my hips, and there’s no changing if someone is attracted to me.
Like with every woman, there’s a distinct love-hate relationship with my body. It’s a thin line separated only by my attitude of the day. What I love one day quickly becomes horrendous the next with a single thought. But after years oftrying to tamper down those swings, most days are relatively the same.
It's my body and I'm happy with the way it looks.
For the most part.
I'm not sure which kind of day it is today. I was feeling all sexy and confident in what I call my suck-in leggings—because they hold in all the jiggly bits—and my tunic shirt. But since I've been helping Candice set everything up for Mason's party, I'm sure my makeup’s now smeared, and my hair’s a frizzy mess.
God, no wonder Grant looked happy to be getting pulled away by his adorable kid. I look like Medusa’s step-sister. But… There was a moment back there where I thought he was staring at me, and not in horror like my hair was about to eat his face. I sigh, brushing said hair off my sweaty neck. He likes me or he doesn’t. How am I supposed to know?
After twenty-eight years on this earth, it's safe to say that I, Hazel Elizabeth Bryant, am a terrible dater. I've been on many dates, some set up by friends or God forbid, my sister, but they always go wrong. I can think the date went well, that we were flowing and having a good time only to end up ghosted. It's happened more than once, I might add.
Which is why I've given up on the idea of love. What's that phrase Shakespeare wrote?
Love is rude and pricks like thorns.
Dating may not be love, but fuck does it prick.
So now I don't bother. But something about today and Grant that made me think, for one moment, that love might be coming my way.
Guess I was wrong.
All afternoon, I can’t seem to stop scanning the yard for Grant. There was one time when our eyes met, making me think he was doing the same.
It's all in my head, right?
Mason’s having an absolute blast. He invited every kid he knew to this party and from the looks of it, everyone showed up. The kid's got piles of presents and Candice had to run to the store to grab more hotdogs. Tony manned the grill all afternoon and was occasionally accompanied by one of the Single Dads Club members.
"You think we're ready to deal with this hotdog mess?" Candice looks about as flustered as I am. There's only so much planning that can go into a party before you have to fly by the seat of your pants, and boy are we flying.
The picnic tables on their deck are covered with chips, condiments, and salads that are more for the adults than the kids. We’ve tried to be mindful of different dietary restrictions and made sure to have a variety, but that’s only added more stress.
I survey the spread with my hands on my hips. "I think it's as good as it's going to get at this point. It's better to feed them now before they turn into hungry little monsters."
Candice chuckles. "Yeah, you're right." She takes one last long look at the tables before heading to the top of the steps. "Excuse me, everyone," she cups her mouth with both hands and shouts over the excited screams of all the kids below. "Hot dogs are ready and there are tables up on the deck with chips and things."
Tony lets out a loud, "Let's eat!" and people chuckle as they move toward the grill to get their hotdogs.
As much as I think I want a family of my own, it's days like this that make me glad it's just me. The amount of stress this whole thing has put on Candice has me breathing a sigh of relief that I don't have to mess with it. All the stories of waking up to vomit-soaked sheets, nights of zero sleep, poop fiascos, booger bombs, and walking into crazy messes make me thankful for my quiet, single life.
Sometimes though, when I’m laying in bed all alone thinking about how I want my life to play out, I think I want something different than what I already have. Then a terrible sinking feeling hits me right in the chest and my thoughts screech as they make a lightning-quick u-turn.
Parents and kids bump into each other as they take their seats on the deck, children grabbing food with their grubby little hands and being general messes. The organized plan Candice and I had in mind plunges it into chaos.
Arms reach. Fingers snatch. The food scene fromHookcomes to mind as all the little kids snatch food off platters and plates left and right.
A giant crash has everyone freezing in their tracks. In all the bumping and jostling, a bowl full of potato chips managed to get knocked off the table, the grease-smeared chips littering the deck like confetti. After a split-second pause, everyone goes back to their food, completely ignoring the spill.
Of course.
