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We stop at our house on the way to the splash pad to grab swim trunks, sunscreen and towels. Rosilyn and Luca live just down the way but in the opposite direction so we offer to let Luca borrow trunks from Jax.
“Oh to be the same size as your bestie,” I say as the boys run around in their trunks. Meanwhile I use a mirror on the wall of the living room to put my hair up.
“Wouldn’t that be nice? Women can’t really do that, can we?” Rosilyn asks, roaming around the living room and kitchen admiring everything. It’s kind of funny. I have always been a minimalist, but even more so since I had Jax. I guess I was always worried I might have to uproot without much notice so I don’t really hoard too much stuff. But Rosilyn admires the wall art, the bookshelves that I snagged from yard sales and repurposed, even the furniture I found at an estate sale.
“It would be like Sisterhood of the Travelling pants.” I muse.
“And that would never happen in real life,” she comes up behind me so I can see her in the mirror. “I mean look at me. Skinny as a rail with no curve to make a single pair of jeans on the planet flattering. And then there’s you. Perfectly hourglass.’
“You mean thick?” I ask dryly.
“Men love that!” She blurts out.
“Maybe. I don’t really pay attention.”
“You don’t date?” She asks curiously.
“Not if I can help it,” I say around the bobby pin in my mouth.
“Well I bet that makes a lot of men sad.”
I shrug and we grab everything, heading out the door. “I don’t know. Most men don’t act like men, I find.”
“You have to date up.” She winks. “Both in age and salary.”
“I suppose.” I smile.
Once the boys are lotioned up and have had their rainbow snow cones, we take a seat at the outdoor bar of the brewery while they play in the splash pad out front.
“This is amazing,” I sigh, leaning back in my chair. It’s a genius set up really, with indoor and outdoor seating, plenty of shade and even misters for the heat. Rosilyn is sipping on a seltzer and I found a lavender lemon shandy that they even garnished with a sugar rim. It’s the girliest beer I’ve ever heard of but in this heat, it’s positively lovely.
“I’ll be frank,” Rosiyln says with a sigh as we watch the boys skip around in the fountains. “Single mom life is no joke. But moments like this make it worth it.”
“It’s hard for sure,” I agree. “But I wouldn’t change it.”
“Can I ask a question?”
“Sure,” I nod. I am enjoying the company and love that Jax has a friend. But a part of me, any time someone wants to ask a question, slides a guard up.
“Where is Jaxon’s father?”
And that is the exact question that throws that wall up. But luckily, I’ve been asked that enough to have an answer on tap, even if it’s not a true answer.
“I don’t know, to be honest,” I say. Rosilyn doesn’t prod but I can tell she wants to know more. I can feel it. So I go on. “It was a one time thing. I haven’t spoken to him since.”
“So he doesn’t even know he has a son?”
“Nope.” I take a sip of my beer. That’s a question a lot of people get judgey about. But this road is harder to walk than people think. “A lot of people would say that’s shitty of me. That I should have reached out to him to at least let him know. But we didn’t use a condom. It was a very…spontaneous…hook-up. Men aren’t as stupid as we give them credit for. Selfish maybe. Asinine from time to time. But not stupid. They know full well they could get women pregnant if they aren’t careful. But they don’t care. And Jaxon doesn’t need a man in his life that doesn’t care.”
It’s the answer that I wrote up five years ago when I was first asked about it. A nurse, actually, in the L&D department needed to know things for the birth certificate. I came up with that spiel word for word and always recite it verbatim. Now, though, for some reason, it feels odd. Less natural. Unjust in a way.
“Well there is nothing wrong with trying to protect your child. Like you said, men can just up and leave. We can’t. I mean we could but never would.”
“What about you?” I ask, sipping on my beer slowly. I don’t need to drink more than one but this is the kind of drink you could finish fast if you’re not careful. I want to savor it.
“Luca’s dad is my ex. Boyfriend, not husband. If you could even call him that. I guess it’s more complicated than that,” she smiles. Then she takes a sip of her drink and watches Luca for a moment before going on. “He was actually my previous boss. I was like a personal assistant for him. Running errands, scheduling everything for him. Even when I clocked out, I spent a lot of my free time making sure he had what he needed. It wasn’t right I suppose, but I liked feeling needed. I’ve always liked feeling needed. And I think he appreciated me too. But one night, as a thank you of sorts, he took me to dinner. And it went too far.”
“Does he know? About Luca?” I ask softly.