Page 2 of Single Daddy To Go
“Splendid!” Bernice said, as the waiter brought her another glass of Chardonnay. “Althea and I will set it up. Clarence is a little shy and focused on work, but Althea wants him to get out more, and she agrees that you would be perfect for him.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s just a first date first, right?” I quipped.
But all kidding aside, Iwasreally excited to meet the guy. I spent three days day-dreaming about our time together. When the weekend rolled around, I spent an hour taming my mane of brown curls and another hour deciding what to wear for my special night, trying on every outfit I owned until finally settling on a blue dress that showed off my curves without being overtly sexy. Fortunately, I own a pair of matching heels that were high, but not too high.
I looked like a million bucks, but it was all for nothing because Mr. Big Shot never showed up. I didn’t get so much as a text. He flat out no showed.
It was devastating. I waited at the neighborhood bistro for over two hours, my heart getting smaller with every minute. The waitress kept coming by to check on me, as all the cheer drained out of my spirit. By the time I finally left, I was so embarrassed and felt utterly worthless and stupid for having believed that it would work out.
I called my mom, and Bernice called her friend in a huff. The son gave some weak excuse about work, but it didn’t matter. I definitely wasn’t going to try again because I was way too hurt by the whole experience. I would never do that to someone. I’d literally have to be in the hospital in a coma before I’d stand someone up without even texting something, and I wasn’t about to try another date with someone who had so little consideration for my feelings.
“These things happen,” Emma consoles me, back in the present. Over her voice I can hear the squeals of excited children as they dart around the room. “No, Ally. They don’tjusthappen. That guy was a jerk.”
He was, but I don’t want to dwell on it. If I let myself go down that road, I might cry, and I don’t want to break down in front of Emma or the kids. It wouldn’t be professional. I shrug again, doing my best to cover the wound in my heart with an extra dose of perkiness.
“Yeah, sure, and I’m not going to let it get to me. He was just some guy I never even met. I don’t want to give him space in my mind.”
She nods, her energy rising.
“I don’t know how you stay so nice, Ally. If a guy did that to me, I’d want to find out where he lived and... I don’t know... egg his house? Key his car?”
“Hire the mob to break his kneecaps?” I tease half-heartedly, glad the subject has moved into the realm of the theoretical. I’m still hurt about what happened, although I’m trying not to feel it. Clarence got my hopes up and he let me down. I’d rather just not have a date at all than have something like that happen again.
“Yeah!” Emma says encouragingly. “That’s the spirit!”
I laugh. She laughs too. The conversation moves on to other things. But as we chat, I keep silently flashing back to that night, to the way I felt sitting there in that restaurant as the clock ticked away the minutes – sad, embarrassed, and alone. I really wish she hadn’t brought it up. It’s not her fault, of course, because my co-worker didn’t know. Still, it’s a subject I didn’t want to have to re-visit.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me that makes me so unlovable. My mom may think I’m a catch, but guys don’t seem to agree. I hear “I love you” all the time from sweet kids and my friends, but I’ve never had a man say it and mean it.
Maybe it’s my size. I’ve always been a bigger girl, with giant boobs up front and a whole lot of junk in the trunk. I’ve tried dieting and I do get a reasonable amount of exercise with walking and biking, but no matter what I do, my body stays curvy and soft. I’ve given up on trying to change this aspect of myself. Trust me, it never works.
When I was in high school, other girls used to make fun of me and call me fat, but I just smiled through it, doing my best to be a good person even though it made me want to cry sometimes. Besides, being fat is a whole lot better than being a cruel person. So what if I’m curvy? I have a good heart and I’m kind to people.
These days, no one insults me openly or anything like that, but the dates certainly aren’t lining themselves up. I guess it’s O.K. Or at least Itellmyself it’s okay and try to be grateful for what I have. I enjoy my job and being around all the little kids. I have a good relationship with my family and plenty of friends. Everything except my love life is amazing, so I really shouldn’t complain, but sometimes I feel empty on the inside. It would be so nice to have someone to share my life with and a special someone to wake up with in the morning.
A buzz on the front door breaks me out of the moment. I glance up at a clock on the wall and notice that it’s five o’clock. I work until 7 PM, when the last of the parents arrive, but the first one start coming to pick up their kids around five.
“Coming!” Emma announces, in the sing song voice she uses with children and their parents as she heads for the door. She opens it to reveal the twiggy frame of Mrs. Cavannah, who has twins in day care, a boy and a girl with matching blonde hair and green eyes.
“Piper! Aaron!” I call out to them. They run over to me on their little feet, clad inTransformersandFrozen-themed shoes. Piper throws her arms around me as I help her put on her Sponge Bob Square Pants backpack, slipping the straps over her little arms.
“How were my little angels today?” Mrs. Cavannah asks me, as I return her children to her.
“Very good, weren’t you?” I say, tousling Aaron’s hair.
“I’m always good,” he says confidently.
“I made you a painting!” his sister announces, holding out a piece of purple construction paper with a red heart made of gold glitter and the word “Mom” in unevenly sized letters.
“That’s beautiful,” Mrs. Cavannah says, taking the paper with a wide smile. My heart feels warm, overjoyed to see the love between parent and child. I just love kids so much, and the twins are an especially good pair of little souls.
As they head off, the kids chattering excitedly to their mother, I go back to the play area and start helping the other children to get ready to go home, making sure everyone gets the right backpack.
Suddenly, a shadow looms over me. I feel it as much as I see it, the air blowing both hot and cold at the same time over me.
“Hello,” growls a very deep voice behind me. “I’m here to pick up Katie Lockhart.”