Hanson, p.4
Hanson, page 4
The two children hand the bags of flour back to her as they shrug their shoulders.
“Grown-ups are weird,” Ava says. “Ethan and I will be over here when you’re ready.”
Thea and I give each other a look, knowing full well they’ll understand one day.
“This is clever,” she says, a smile on her face for the first time in our brief conversations. “But I still can’t go out with you.”
I hold the bag open as she drops the flours in. “How come?”
“Well, for starters, my date with Clint went pretty well. Remember him? You disapproved based on his name.”
“Oh, I remember,” I say. “Tell me what you mean by ‘went pretty well’ then?”
“I mean just that. It was good. Like not perfect, but good,” she says, shrugging.
“And you don’t think a first date should be perfect?” I ask. “If it’s not perfect now at the moment of ignition, it’s not going to improve later.”
“Perfection is overrated,” she says. “I’m planted firmly in reality.”
“Then permission to speak freely about reality?” I ask.
Her shoulders relax a bit as she eyes me. “Alright.”
“Perfection, for me, is not about being actually perfect. Think of it as an abstract painting. It’s not actually perfect by the clinical definition. But as you look at it, you sigh and it is perfect just the way it is.” I pause for a moment, letting that sink in. “So when I say a perfect first date should be a requirement for you, I mean, that even with all the tiny imperfections, if you’re not dropped off at your front door, the linger of a kiss still on your aching lips, sighing at just how lovely your evening was, then it’s less than you deserve.”
Her stunned silence lingers for several moments, and I can tell she doesn’t know what to say.
“Ava,” I call out. “Let’s head home, princesa.”
I sit the bag of flours down as the two children scurry over, Ava taking me by the hand.
“Bye Miss James,” she says. “See you tomorrow.”
“You have a lovely evening, Thea,” I say, smiling.
Turning away from her in the direction of the shop, I’m oddly satisfied with today’s progress. Okay, yes, I was rejected for a second time by the same woman in two days. That’s not great. But I feel a little give.
It’s like when you’re opening a pickle jar. At first, it won’t budge. Then, there’s slight movement. The jar still isn’t opening, but you can feel it giving way as if it wants to open but hasn’t yet.
And I think Thea James very much wants to open.
MIND OVER MATTER
THEA
That son of a bitch. That asshole son of a bitch. Hanson got me good today. I wasn’t expecting his wit and this level of charm. But I still won’t be fooled. Besides, what the hell am I going to make with all this flour? Of course, I’m thinking all this while trying to mask my smile and make room for the flours in my pantry cabinet.
All that’s replayed in my mind since seeing him is the way he says my name. Thea. There’s a certain emphasis on the Th sound and then the rest sounds more like an exhale than anything. And it’s hot as hell. Why? Why does he also have to have an accent?
“Hey, Mom?” Ethan asks from his place at the kitchen table.
“Yeah, bud?” I push the last bag into place and shut the door, turning toward him.
“Do you think me and Ava could hang out? Like outside of school?” he asks.
My heart does a little flip flop, wondering if this is the moment he goes from being my little boy to being crazy about girls.
“Um, I’m not sure,” I say, coming to sit next to him. “What do you want to do?”
“Well, like, she was saying she could help me with my math,” he says. “And I mean you’re the math teacher and really good, but I was thinking having her help might be better for me.”
I get this. I totally get this. Learning from a peer is very different from learning from an adult. And sometimes it’s hard being his mother, his teacher, and his tutor all at once.
“Oh, well, I think that would be a great idea,” I say. “I don’t know if she’s going to be available since she’s got a lot of stuff going on at home, but I will try to check for you, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, seeming satisfied with that answer.
“Hey, bud? Can I ask you a question?” I’m hesitant, but this feels like a good time for it.
“Sure,” he says.
“Do you like Ava as just your friend? Or do you maybe like her as more than a friend?” I ask.
“Mom, jeez,” he huffs. “She’s just my friend. She’s cool.”
“Okay,” I say, holding my hands up in defense. “Okay, I was just asking. Because it would be okay if you did, you know? It’s natural and normal.”
“Oh my god, Mom, stop,” he says. “We are just friends. Please don’t be weird.”
I back off completely then, leaving him to his snack and homework. Weird? I’m not weird, am I? I suppose your mom being your teacher can already make it weird with the other kids. But he’s clearly not ready to approach the topic of crushes and romantic feelings. God, that sounds weird even in my mind. My son. Romantic feelings.
It’s these sort of moments I wish Shane was here. Like, really here. Boys should have a father figure to talk to about this stuff. Of course, I know I’m not the only single mom with a son, and they turn out just fine. I know he’s going to be alright. Sometimes I’m just sad for what he’s missing out on with a real father figure around.
Shane is what I call a “vacation parent”. It’s all fun all the time. He doesn’t have to worry about homework or bedtimes, doctor’s appointments, or scheduling. He doesn’t make Ethan do chores or even bathe if he doesn’t want to. Luckily, I’ve instilled in Ethan great hygiene habits that he takes with him when he’s there. But Shane is forever the fun parent. Dessert before dinner, staying up late, soda pop, and new toys. All of it. I get stuck with the harder parts. Or actually, all the other parts.
A loud sigh escapes me as I shuffle back to my room for five “me time” minutes before I have to think about starting dinner. Flopping down on the edge of my bed, I slip my shoes off onto the floor and flex my toes as far as they’ll go. I could really use a good full-body massage. As you age, things start to ache and you don’t even know what the fuck they are. Is it a muscle? A nerve? A bone? Who knows.
Luckily, tomorrow is an easy school day. We have a math test, and the rest of the period is free time. I always allow free time on test days. Their brains need a little break.
Plus, it gives me time to grade the tests so I don’t have to take them home with me over the weekend. And considering I have a second date with Clint, that would be great.
Oh shit, that reminds me! He texted me earlier and I didn’t have a chance to reply. I pull my phone out to see what he said.
CLINT: How does an art show downtown sound? Then dinner at my place?
Oh god. My stomach does a weird thing and for a moment I think I might vomit my gallbladder or some other internal organ. Dinner at his place. It may seem casual to some but for me, it feels both too soon and also there’s a bed at his place. Dinner at someone’s home always means they’re wanting to get more physical. Right? At least that’s my experience.
My fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment as I contemplate my response. On the one hand, I do want another date with him. I think. But I don’t think I want to put myself in a situation where something physical is a possibility. Especially not on a second date with someone that I’m only lukewarm about.
ME: The art show sounds great, but there’s this lovely Thai restaurant right downtown near the art district that I’ve been dying to try. Could we go there?
CLINT: Oh sure, that’s fine too. Send me the details and I’ll make a reservation.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I type out the information for the place and lay my phone down. You can’t really discern someone’s emotions from a text but he seems to be fine with it. We haven’t even had a first kiss, so I don’t want to go straight from where we are to such an intimate setting.
I mean, he kissed me on the cheek at my door at the end of our first date, but that’s it. Which was fine with me. In fact, I’m not even sure how I’d have felt if he went for an actual kiss. I guess in addition to wanting to date someone completely opposite of my usual type, I also want to take it glacial slow. While simultaneously feeling like a strong wind could get me off. Super.
I move from my bed back to the pantry to grab the ingredients for dinner and catch sight of the flours once again. It’s hard to miss them, considering. Of course, this sends my mind into a Hanson tailspin. Questions begin to bombard me. Like, is he bringing something for me again tomorrow? Will he give up after today? How long will he be on duty as the person who picks up and drops off Ava? Is he the person I should ask about Ava and Ethan hanging out or should I text Drew? Has he ever tattooed himself? What tattoos are hidden behind his clothing? This is the disturbing loop that plays as I chop broccoli and throw it in the pan.
I should not be thinking about any part of Hanson that’s covered by clothing. Not even his fucking feet. Basically, if I can’t see it when he’s picking up Ava, it’s none of my business. But god, I bet it’s nice. Oh my god, stop.
I throw myself into dinner, chopping carrots and mushrooms to add to the pan, then start on the chicken breasts. Ethan and I eat a lot of stir-fries and teriyaki. He loves them and it’s a guaranteed way to make sure he’s eating vegetables. I can’t complain.
We have a routine down. I make dinner and he sets the table after he’s done with his homework. Then I serve food as he grabs us something to drink from the fridge. It’s been just the two of us for so long, my other concern with dating is finding someone who won’t interrupt our flow too badly. Rather, we need someone who fits in with us.
Staring across from Ethan as he takes his first bite, I’m overwhelmed with my love for him. All I know is, no matter what happens, we are going to be just fine.
IDK YOU YET
HANSON
The shop is quiet this morning when I arrive early to pick up Ava. I’ve never been one to show up before it’s open, so seeing it in the early morning sunrise is quite different. The shop windows are east facing and so, it’s spectacular actually. It sort of makes me wish I’d arrived earlier before now.
The back door opens behind me, but I don’t move from my spot. Even with my back to it, I know it’s Will bringing Ava down to me. I can’t explain how I know, how I can sense it, but I can.
“Good morning, Hanson,” Ava says, running up to my side and grabbing my hand. “What are you looking at?”
“Good morning, princesa,” I say. “The sunrise.” I point into the yellow gold beams rising over the buildings across the street. Orange hues are melting into subtle pinks and if I know anything, it’s that this place has some of the best sunrises I’ve ever seen.
“Oh,” she says. “It’s very pretty.”
“É o que?” I ask.
Ava is silent for a moment, searching for the right words. I know she knows them but I don’t push.
“É muito bonito,” she says.
“Perfeito,” I say. “Ready to go?”
Ava nods, adjusting the straps on her backpack, and then we’re out the door. Despite being a little older, she still always holds my hand as we walk. Not that I’m complaining. It’s quite the opposite. I very much enjoy these moments, as they’ve existed outside of these mornings too.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asks.
“Sim, of course,” I say.
“Are you trying to make Miss James your girlfriend?” she asks.
Wow. Walked right into that one, didn’t I? I should know by now that Ava is much smarter and much more observant than any of us give her credit for. Then again, it’s not like I’ve been subtle about my advances.
“Well,” I say, scratching the back of my neck with my free hand. “It’s not as simple as that when you’re an adult. I know in school, two kids like each other, and they’re instantly matched. But as an adult, there’s a little more to the process.”
“Well, what’s the process?” she asks.
I hesitate, wondering just how much of this I should be sharing or if this is a conversation her mother or Hawk should be having with her. But we’ve always been pretty open around the shop and with her, so I don’t think I’m in danger of oversharing.
“When you’re older and you are interested in someone beyond friendship, you ask them out on a date. This doesn’t mean they’re automatically your girlfriend. You use some dates to get to know each other. You see if your personalities match and make sure there’s chemistry between you.”
“What’s chemistry? That’s not a class?” she asks.
“It’s a class, but it’s also used as a term to describe if two people mesh well, like if they connect. Does that make sense?”
“I think so,” she says. “So, you’re trying to see if you and Miss James have chemistry and then if you do, you would make her your girlfriend?”
“Maybe,” I say. “She has a decision too.”
“Hmm,” she says. “I mean, it would be cool if you and Miss James were together and I could see Ethan outside of school. But I wouldn’t want you to break up so maybe it’s not a good idea.”
We cross an intersection, my brows furrowing in confusion at her statement. “Why do you think we’d break up?”
“Because you break up with everyone, Hanson,” she says. “You’re kind of a heartbreaker.”
Ava’s words hit me hard, right in the gut. I’m a heartbreaker? Me? That can’t be right. Is that how everyone sees me? Shit, if Ava is saying it, then everyone else definitely thinks it. God. When did that become who I am?
We walk the rest of the way to her school in silence. In my mind, I’m going through the Rolodex of girlfriends I’ve had, each situation, and who broke up with who. I grow more concerned with each encounter, as I begin to notice a distinct pattern, resulting in me always doing the breaking up. And I instantly hate everything.
“Goodbye, Hanson,” Ava says as she walks into the building.
For a moment, I didn’t even realize we’d made it here. “I’ll see you this afternoon, have a good day!” I yell back enthusiastically, hoping it masks my new growing concern.
I’m a heartbreaker. Me. Hanson Serrano. Fuck. This is alarming news to me. I never took myself for any type of player or the one who does the breaking. Perhaps it’s been more of an under-the-radar pattern. Well, under the radar to me but glaringly obvious to Ava. Yeah, that doesn’t seem right. I’m going to have to do some investigating.
On my way back to the shop, I grab two coffees and breakfast sandwiches for myself and Jericho. We’ll be the only ones here for several hours and it’s an unusually quiet day, with no appointments until much later. I suppose we could get a random walk-in or two, but even then they’re usually quick.
“Hey, man,” I say, walking inside as the bell overhead chimes.
“Do I see coffee in your hands from that shop on the corner?” he asks.
“Lady Coffee Bean,” I say. “That’s the name of the place. And, yes, you do. Plus two of her finest fat stacked breakfast sandwiches.”
“Oh my god, yes,” he says. “I’m starving.”
Jericho unwraps the sandwich at lightning speed and wastes no time taking a huge bite. He wasn’t kidding about being hungry.
“Let me ask you a question, man,” I say.
“What’s up?” he says.
“Do you think I’m a player?” I ask, taking a bite from my sandwich.
Jericho wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and laughs a bit. “No way.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yeah, dude,” he says. “Very sure.”
“Okay, well, am I a heartbreaker?” I sip from my coffee.
Jericho starts to shake his head, then pauses. “Hmm, well, my first instinct was to say no again but upon a closer look, you do seem to do most of the breaking up.”
“But it’s not like I want to,” I say. “It’s just not working out.”
“But it seems to not work out for you a lot, and only on your end. Based on what I’ve seen and when we’ve talked, the woman is usually all in. Then suddenly, you’re out.”
Sitting back in my seat, I’m a bit shaken by this response. Over the years, I have been the one to end the relationships. I mean, I haven’t had one in a while, but back when I was actively dating, I did end it more often than not. And yes, some of those women did think we were in a way different place than I thought.
For them, things were getting really serious. For me, not so much. It didn’t seem fair to lead them on.
“Listen, man,” Jericho says. “I don’t think you did it on purpose. Hell, I don’t even think you enjoyed it. That’s the difference. Okay, so you’ve broken some hearts. But that doesn’t make you a heartbreaker. Know what I mean?”
I turn his words over in my head for a moment and to my surprise, they make me feel better. He’s right. I didn’t enjoy it.
“You’re right, man,” I say. “Thanks.”
Jericho nods as we finish the rest of our sandwiches and coffee in silence. I make plans to run a couple of errands at lunch, including stopping to get what’s needed for today’s attempt at wooing Thea James. If she thought she could dissuade me after one day, she’s got a surprise in store. And let's be clear. This isn’t a normal thing for me. I don’t exactly spend a lot of time trying to convince a woman to give me a chance. But my gut tells me she does want to, and for whatever reason, is resisting. If I thought for a second she genuinely wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t be doing this.
She said men bring flowers, chocolate, and teddy bears. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.
SHAKE THE ROOM
THEA
I wish I could say I was surprised to see Hanson waiting outside for Ava, another brown paper bag in his hand. But I’m not. I don’t think my laughing and agreeableness yesterday helped in halting his efforts.
