“Mabel.” I pop my hand on my hip and stare at her. “I know you have it in you.”
“Well then, color me pink.”
“Pink it is,” I say, smiling at her.
I hope I have half the spunk she does at her age.
I mix the color in the back and bring the bowl out to my station, sectioning Mabel’s hair, placing a foil and spreading the color from root to tip.
“So,” she says. “I heard you’ve been spending time with EJ Clark.”
“You heard that, did you?”
“Well, have you?”
“You already know I have,” I say with a smile.
“Angie, I’m asking you for details here. Are you going to make me beg at my age?”
“Don’t you go pulling the age card on me, Mabel. Not when you and I both know you’re not even close to old.”
She smiles. “Darn straight. Now give me all the details. When did this start? How’d he get you to say yes? What do your boys think?”
I’m smiling right along with her until she brings up my boys.
“The boys don’t know yet,” I admit.
Laura looks at Mabel. “Stop pestering Angie. She’s happy. She’ll tell her boys in good time.”
“I’m not pestering,” Mabel says. “Makes sense not tellin’ them until you’re sure you’re serious. You don’t want to confuse their little minds with men traipsing in and out of your life.” She pauses and adds, “Not that men traipse in your life. Or out. Heavens. How long has it been, Angie?”
“I haven’t dated anyone since the boys were born,” I admit.
“Goodness gracious,” Mabel says as if I’ve just told her I have a chronic and fatal condition. “That’s what I thought.”
I look over at Laura and she smiles softly at me.
“I’m thinking of telling them soon,” I say.
It’s only Mabel, Laura and Mrs. Fickett, Laura’s customer, here in the salon.
“Oooh,” Mabel says, sitting up just a bit taller. “This is good. So, you really like him?”
“I do. I might even be ready to let the boys hang out with him.”
Laura glances over at me. This is the first she’s hearing of my plans … or sort-of plans. I don’t have actual plans. Not yet, anyway.
I wish I hadn’t gotten so rusty when it comes to men, but it is what it is.
“I’d build up to it if I were you,” Mrs. Fickett says. “Go somewhere neutral and have EJ show up as if you didn’t know he was coming—at a park, maybe. He can just start playing with the boys as if it’s any other Tuesday. Do that a few times. Once the boys are used to EJ showing up, tell them you like him.”
“You make it sound so easy,” I say with a sigh.
“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” Mabel says. “You know most people don’t remember much of what happened to them before age five. If you and EJ get together when the boys are young, they’re barely going to remember a time he wasn’t a part of their lives.”
“Whoa,” I say like I’m pulling the reins on a horse. “Slow down there. We’re not getting … We’re just … We’ve only started seeing one another recently.”
Have I entertained thoughts of a future with EJ? Yes. Daily. But there’s something about hearing Mabel talk about us as if I’m picking out a reception cake flavor this week that makes me short of breath.
