"I bumped into her at Jolie Tea."
Cee narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "So?"
I hadn't mentioned to Celia the frequent circumstantial coincidences regarding the so-called Butterfly Tattoo Chick. I'd kept that shit to myself and Dr. Travetti—nobody else needed to know. But now, we'd been seen together, and I didn't know how to hide it anymore. I didn't even know if it should be hidden, period.
"I've sort of seen her a couple of times," I casually mentioned, shrugging for effect.
"Sort of? What, you're friends with her?" Celia laughed incredulously. Then, laughing harder, she waved her hands and added, "Wait, wait ... Are you screwing her?"
"I'm not screwing her," I muttered through gritted teeth.
"So, then you're friends."
I shook my head and headed toward my workspace. "Not friends either."
Celia followed me. "So, what, you just happened to take a beautiful autumnal walk together for no particular reason?"
"Yep."
"God, you're so full of shit, Blake."
She could think I was full of shit all she wanted. I didn't care what she thought, and I proved my point by ignoring her statement and setting up for my first client of the day. Cee just continued to stand there, watching me through scrutinizing eyes, until finally she snickered and headed across the shop to her own station.
"So, is this about me and Shane?"
That grabbed my attention and I turned to glare at the back of her head. "What?"
"Shane asks me out, I cut you off, so … what? You need to find someone else to get your fix?"
I laughed, disbelieving. "You're high, Cee."
She shot a glance at me over her shoulder. "Not high, smart-ass. I'm just trying to figure out what the hell you'd be doing with Barbie."
There was a genuine glint of concern in her eyes, between her words and in the twitch of her lips. Celia was my friend. A former friend with benefits, sure, but she was still my friend, first and foremost. She thought this was a backslide, a strange cry for help in the form of a preppy girl with a butterfly inked to her chest, instead of the small of her back, and suddenly I felt I owed Cee an explanation.
"I bumped into her at the poetry club," I said. "She writes, too."
"Oh," she replied, genuinely surprised. "That's cool."
"Yeah. We ran into each other again at Jolie Tea this morning. She walked with me to Jake's daycare, and that's it." I shrugged nonchalantly, leaving out the fact that Audrey had asked me to meet her at the club on Saturday. The reminder fluttered my lids and forced my throat to swallow.
"Wait," Celia said, "she met Jake?"
"He was there," I replied.
"Wow," she muttered under her breath.
I dug deep between every letter of that three lettered word.
Wow. She wanted to ask how it went, Audrey's meeting with Jake.
Wow. Celia's first meeting with Jake a few years ago hadn't gone well. Jake didn't care for Cee initially. He thought she was too angry, dark and scary. She had a right to be—her husband and the father of her kids had screwed around behind her back. Of course she was angry. Red. But Jake hadn’t liked it.
Wow. Perhaps she had the same thoughts as the good doctor. That there are no coincidences. Only signs and Fate. And my brother approved of this ray of sunshine that had somehow seeped into the gloom of his brother's life.
Wow. Wow wow wow.
Meet me on Saturday.
Audrey had asked me to write a poem to read. She would write one, too, she said. I was already nervous, and yet, I was also cautiously excited, too. I found myself looking forward to it. Looking forward to the warmth of the sun on a dark night in October.
Chapter Twelve
"WHAT ARE YOU doing tonight?" Mom asked out of obligation as Jake tried on his Halloween costume. He was going as Daniel Tiger.
"Going to the club," I told her, like it wasn't a big deal and like I wasn't meeting up with a woman. Was this a date? I hadn't figured that out yet.
Mom nodded, pursing her lips in the way that told me she was thinking. In the way I knew that she'd now say exactly what was on her mind. I hoped she wouldn't. Things had been even more tense between us since our failed family dinner. That was almost a week ago and we'd had several phone conversations since, but her tone had been tight and my spine had been rigid.
“Don’t you miss going out during the week?”
I lifted my hand to the bridge of my nose and pinched. "Mom …"
"I'm just asking," she said, forcing an air of innocence into her tone. "I mean, limiting yourself to only going out on the weekends has to be rough."
"It's called being an adult, Mom."
"But wouldn’t you like to have options? Remember when you were in college? You were out every other night, and you had friends, and—"
"I was a kid!" I scoffed incredulously.
"Yeah, and? Why should anything change?"
"Because I have a job," I laughed, shaking my head. "I have responsibilities."
"Well, if we find Jake a—"
"Mom," I closed my eyes and shook my head, "not now, okay?”
"I’m saying, if, Blake. If we find Jake a nice place, then maybe you could get out a little more.” She nudged an elbow against me and said, "And hey, you’re my only hope for grandchildren.”
I laughed at her attempt at a normal mother-son conversation. The sound was damn near hostile to my ears. "Yeah, okay."
"I'm just saying, maybe you could meet a girl."
"You have no idea if I've met a girl or not already," I dared to mention, and why? Why had I done that? I wondered what Dr. Travetti would say about that come Monday.
Mom looked instantly startled and hopeful. "Have you?"
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and shrugged. "I've seen this woman a couple of times," I answered honestly, not divulging the context in which I'd seen her.
"Wow," she mentioned, clearly taken aback. Her voice demonstrated shock and I struggled to find the happiness I thought I'd also hear. "Why haven't you said anything?" Ah, she was hurt.
"It's not serious, Mom."
"It's serious enough that you thought to mention it."
"I mentioned it because you won't get off my case," I said brusquely. "And because I wanted you to know that I'm quite capable of meeting people, even with Jake around."
She pinched her eyes shut and shook her head exhaustedly. "Okay, Blake," she sighed, dismissing me. And then, she walked away.
***
"You came!"
Audrey bounded toward me. It was a cold night and whatever top she wore was kept secret beneath her bright white coat. I wondered, though. What color was her shirt? And did it reveal the butterfly I’d carved into her chest? Could I make out the outline of her bra? Was she even wearing one?
I wondered what she'd say if she knew what vile things swarmed my brain. I wondered what she'd do.
"Of course I did," I answered, unsure of what to do. Should I hug her? Should I kiss her cheek?