He hands me the tomato and tilts his head. “Am I strong enough to break it?”
“You are.”
“Like Uncle Alec,” Jase says as he flexes his tiny arm, seeing a muscle that’s barely there. Then his smile dims. “Mom, is it okay if I do a guy night? Will you miss me?”
“I will, but I’ll be okay, but what about Grandma?”
“Oh, she’s meeting us for ice cream after,” Alec volunteers. “At Roy’s.”
As he completes the word cream, Jase is off running toward the house and shouting for his grandma. All I can catch is that they’re going to Roy’s and not the concession stand.
“See, Jase is going to have fun Friday night. You should too.”
I let out a deep breath. “What about you? When are you going to settle down with one lucky lady?”
My brother puffs out his chest. “That’s the thing. There’s no way to keep all this man with just one lady. It would obviously be too much for one woman to handle.”
I laugh. “Yes, that is the rumor on the street.”
“Because many have tried. You know, it really wouldn’t be fair to the ladies of this here city...” He leans back even farther. “Or state...hell, country. Alec Wells is not the tying-down kind.”
My hand flies up as I scrunch my brow. “Okay, bro. More information than your sister needs to hear.”
His lips quirk in an uneven smirk. “That wasn’t what I meant...”
“Yes, watch what guy things you share with Jase on Friday night.”
“Don’t worry about that. Uncle Alec will teach him how to be a girl magnet. Seriously, kindergarten is where it starts. I’ll set him straight on ponytails and dimples. I’ll give him the lowdown on all the important stuff. Rule number one: stay away from drugs and girls who eat paste.”
As I turn and look out over the yard, I gently toss the tomato from one hand to the other. “Do you ever think of doing something totally out of character?”
Alec snorts. “Amanda, this is me. All the time!”
“Yeah, right. I’m just not sure I can.”
“Hold on,” he says as he rushes away toward the garage. When he comes back he has his softball bag, the one he keeps in the trunk of his car. Unzipping the bag, Alec pulls out an aluminum bat and pushes it my direction. “Trade me for the tomato.”
My gaze narrows. “Why?”
“Out of character, sis. You can do it.”
“Are you kidding? Look at this...” I hold it up. “...it’s big and juicy. I could make a great salad for lunch tomorrow at work.”
“Which is in character, or you could live a little.”
Slowly, I hand him the softball-sized tomato and reach for the bat.
Walking backward and palming the tomato, Alec lowers his voice to the tone we used as kids when we were planning secrets from our parents. “You’ll only have one chance. Don’t blow it.”
I shift my feet to the side, bend my knees, and after adjusting my hands, lift the bat in the air.
“You ready?” Alec asks as he moves to a pitcher’s stance.
“What if I miss? I haven’t played in years.”
He winks. “It’s like riding a bike.”
“How can everything be like riding a bike?”
“Everything is. Now, watch me. Keep your eye on the ball.”
“It’s a tomato.”
His arm moves, a nice controlled underhand pitch. As the fruit flies toward me, I hear Jase and my mother yell at the same time.
“Mom?”
“Amanda!”
I pull the bat back and swing. The connection happens with a thud. All at once, the air fills with seeds, and tomato juice rains down.
“What in the world?” Mom asks.
“That was so cool. Can I try?” Jase asks as he gets closer. “Mom, you have sprinkles all over you.”
I look down at the red droplets and small seeds splattered over my blouse. As I hand the messy bat back to my brother, I wipe more tomato remnants from my cheeks.
Mom’s head is moving back and forth as she takes in the scene. “What are you two doing? And here I thought I had grown children.”
“Don’t give her a hard time,” Alec says. “She was just—”
Before he can finish, I interrupt. “Looking for someone.”
Mom’s smile grows and she nods approvingly. “I think she’s closer than she was yesterday.”
“Can I hit a tomato?” Jase asks, bouncing on the tips of his toes. “Can I?”
Alec looks my direction.
“Do you want to get sprinkles?” I ask.
Jase’s head bobs up and down.
Mom waves her hand. “I don’t care. But only one. I’d like to get a chance to eat some of those.”
“Sure,” I say to both Jase and Alec. “Out of character.” Next, I turn to Jase. “You have to hit it the first time. If you miss, it will probably break.”
“I can do it,” he says, lifting the too-big bat.
“And then it’s home for a bath. No sleeping with sprinkles.”
“Oh, Mom!” Jase and Alec whine at the same time just before a new tomato sails through the air.
Thud!
My mom and I laugh as Jase turns our way with a big grin and covered in red polka dots.
Chapter Four
Mandy
I can't believe how nervous I am. I thought I gave up being nervous years ago, but here I am, my palms moist, pulse accelerated, and breath shallow. Despite the air conditioning and overhead fans, a bead of perspiration drips down the center of my back while another one trickles between my breasts.
Out of character.
That’s what this all is, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I know my son isn’t missing me. He’s been excited about his guy night ever since his uncle presented it to him. I do think Mom was slightly put off, but she assured me that it was fine. Her plans include enjoying a little peace and quiet until ice cream time. Then she’ll be plenty busy with sticky fingers and a sugar buzz at bath time.
Stepping farther into the restaurant’s entry, I take one last glance down at my blue sundress and heeled sandals. Peeking from the tips of the sandals are brightly painted toenails. As I take one last look, the realization hits me: I haven't primped for a date since Jackson. I haven't worried about how I look or how I style my hair. I mean, I look professional for work, but other than that, it's just me, Jase, my parents, and sometimes Alec or Sally. I'm the mom at Little League with the baseball cap, T-shirt, and ponytail. I’m the lady at the grocery store with no makeup on and probably wearing Jase’s peanut butter smears as an accessory.
Thinking about the preparation I put into tonight, I fight the urge to rush to the restroom. If I do, will it be to make sure it's me in the mirror, touch up my seldom-worn lip gloss, or throw up?
Deep breath.
Inhale and exhale.
If I do go to the restroom, who will I see? Will it be me, or the Mandy Wells my mom wants me to find? My lips quirk to a sideways smile—a lot like my brother’s—as I recall the tomato seeds I washed from my hair the other night.