“Awe, man,” Justice whines and I can’t help but want to give the kid the treat.
I know moms make the rules but damn I would so break this one and let him have the ice-cream treat.
Following Josie, I bring the bags inside. The place matches my house in layout just a mirror image where everything on the right is on the left in this home. I know this because all four houses on the cul-de-sac match in floor plans just flipped each one. Paint colors and garages are the only difference. My house has a garage, her house, on the other hand, was converted into a den area, office, or dining room. Basically whatever she decides to make it. With them moving in recently, I expected there to be boxes everywhere. However, everything seems unpacked. At least in the living room and kitchen. And by everything, I mean very little. She has the basics set up. My curiosity is piqued. Is she one of those minimalist style people?
“Thank you, Dean. I can get the rest,” she explains as I look around.
I should correct her. I don’t like when anyone calls me Dean anymore. Dean died a long fucking time ago. Somehow, though, my name on her lips doesn’t leave me with a bitter taste in my own mouth.
“Nah, you unpack this, and I’ll bring in the other bags,” I order, and I’m surprised as she nods. “Justice, you wanna help me?” I invite to which the boy carefully places his Hot Wheels down and follows me back out their front door.
Together, mostly me, but Justice does take one bag, we manage to get the rest of her items inside. I watch as she moves around the space. She’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Her wavy brown hair is down but partially clipped back, I assume to keep it out of her face. She seems frazzled as she opens and closes one empty cabinet after another.
Moving into her space, she tenses before swiftly turning around to face me with her back against the countertop. Reaching out, I cup her chin as she takes a deep breath trying to calm herself.
“Jo, breathe. It’s not even a week in. Gotta get used to shit.”
She reaches up and puts her finger over my lips. “I try not to cuss in front of him,” she whispers, and I smile.
“How about you go sit down? Let me pour you a glass of wine and put the groceries away.”
She shakes her head and tries to shift to the side. I shift with her.
“Jo, hear me out. You gotta be mom twenty-four-seven. Add this move to a whole different house, you need a time out. I’m here. I may not be domesticated, but I can manage to put some groceries in a cabinet.”
This gets a laugh. “Domesticated? Dean, what are you a wild animal?”
I raise my eyebrows up and down while running my hand down my long beard, “maybe,” I tease her. “Look at it this way, if I put the shi-stuff in the wrong place, it doesn’t actually matter because you don’t have a system in your head quite yet. Let me help while I can.”
She again shifts; I move as she moves without actually extending my arms to cage her in. I get the sense to cage her in will rock her. I see the signs.
Signs I know too well from my own history.
I won’t go there with her. My past is mine and hers is her own. We are neighbors and there is no reason to dredge up things that are already done.
I’m not here to rattle her. Honestly, I don’t know why I am here. Why I bothered to come over when I saw her groceries fall, it really isn’t my typical reaction. She isn’t my concern. I can’t explain what drew me to focus on her and make my way over.
“You’re serious?”
I nod, “Way I see it, you ain’t had a moment to learn your new address. You have the weight of his world on your shoulders,” I point to Justice. “But right now, you need to take a little time out. Jo, you can’t pour from an empty cup.”
I take a step back and look behind me to the bottle of wine. I happen to glance by the sink and see a glass in the drying rack. Without speaking, I move to the glass turning it up and placing it on the countertop before grabbing the bottle.
“Go take a seat.”
She pauses one more moment before finally making her way to the couch. It’s the only place to sit for her right now.
With the wine bottle in my hand I look around just as she begins to make her way back into the kitchen.
“No, Jo. You’re headed in the wrong direction. Go back to the couch.”
“I was gonna get you the corkscrew.”
I laugh pulling my keys from my pocket. “Wanna see a magic trick?” I tease before putting the key into the cork and twisting, opening the bottle as if I had a real corkscrew.
She laughs taking a seat on the couch as I pour her glass. “You’re full of surprises, Dean. I have never thought to use a key.”
“Gotta get creative sometimes,” I tell her handing her the now half full glass.
