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twelve f

Jack

W as that Jesus sitting at the bar? I did a double take. Obviously, he wasn’t Jesus, but he sure looked the part. Our eyes connected. He smiled—not a sleazy barfly smile but an honest-to-goodness smile. He never took his eyes off me.

After my set, I joined him. His turquoise eyes sparkled between his shoulder-length brown hair and full beard.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Ava Harrison.” I’d never given my real name to a customer. “And you?”

“Jackson P. Novak. Everyone calls me Jack.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack.” I felt a flutter in my gut. Was I falling for this guy?

We talked through my entire break. I knew I should be mingling with the customers, but I couldn’t leave Jack’s side.

“Can I call you?” he asked.

“I’d like that.” I gave him my number—my real number.

Before I left for my next set, I added, “Gotta be up front with you, Jack. I have two kids.”

“Cool. I love kids.”

Had I found Mr. Perfect at Gentleman’s Delight?

w

The following Sunday, Jack invited me for a picnic at Washington Crossing State Park on the Delaware River. We sat on an old comforter and stared at the water. A warm breeze softened the July heat. I smiled from deep inside.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“My boys are seven and four. They spend the summers with their father and stepmother.”

“You look too young to have kids that old,” he said.

“I’m twenty-seven. I started young.”

Jack’s eyebrows raised a notch. “I’m only twenty-three, but what the hell? Age is only a number. And besides, you look younger.”

But I feel like fifty.

Jack worked at a lumber yard. He’d been staying with friends not far from my apartment.

“Someday, I wanna live down here by the river,” he said. “D’ya like it here?”

“It’s beautiful. Really peaceful.”

“Great place to chill. Speaking of chill—” He reached in his jeans pocket and pulled out a joint.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting busted?”

“Hell, no. Who’s gonna call the cops?” He lit up and offered me a toke.

I’d never smoked pot in bright daylight and never in a public place.

I took a hit, then another, and grooved on the sunshine.

Jack was the consummate laid-back hippie. To him work was a necessary evil—nothing like Tom’s eat-or-be-eaten mentality. Over the next few months, he introduced me to his gentle hippie friends. I had little in common with them, but they accepted me into their social circle. They stayed stoned day and night, lived in a communal house, and did only what was necessary to get by. None of them had a clue what it was like to raise two young children as a single parent.

Jack had access to the best pot. My highs were higher, and most mornings I woke with a clear head. My dancing was spot-on, and I earned more tips than ever before. Tom and his abuse drifted into the past. I suspected it all would change once my kids came back in the fall, but for now life was good.

“I have to drive to Bridgeport to pick up Tommy and Lee,” I told Jack the Friday of Labor Day weekend.

On the drive north, I wondered how Tommy and Lee would react to my boyfriend, especially after a summer with their high-pressure dad and his straight wife. Would they reject me and demand to return to Tom’s suburban tract house?

Elaine opened the door but didn’t invite me in.

“Say goodbye to Mama Lanie.” She gave each a pat on their behind and nearly pushed them out the door.

Mama Lanie?

“Where’s Tom? I need to talk to him.” I’d planned to ask Tom for more child support, knowing it would be harder for him to refuse in person.

“At work. Sorry to rush you, but I have an appointment,” Elaine said, locking the door behind her.

As I packed the kids into my car, I glanced back at the house and saw Tom watching from a bedroom window.

Coward.

Elaine’s abrupt goodbye and Tom’s absence had me worried. So did Tommy and Lee’s silence in the car.

“Did you miss me?” I asked.

“I missed you, Mommy,” Lee said.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Tommy sat silently and stared out the window.

“We had fun! Mama Lanie took us to the beach, to Rye Playland, to the movies, and to . . .” Lee’s voice trailed off as he listed their summer activities.

“Tommy, what about you?”

“We always ate dinner together. Mama Lanie tucked us into bed every night and made pancakes for breakfast.”

My son just broke my heart.

Jack opened the door to my apartment, holding two sock puppets.

“Howdy do!” the puppets barked in unison. “Welcome home. Got some chili on the stove and Twinkies up my nose.”

Each puppet grabbed a Twinkie and pretended to stuff them up Jack’s nose. The kids burst out laughing.

“Tommy and Lee, this is my friend, Jack.”

“The loves of your mom’s life. I know all about you two. C’mon, let’s eat.”

Lee couldn’t get enough of Jack. Tommy slowly slipped out of his shell but remained guarded.

A few days later, Tommy began second grade and Lee returned to nursery school.