“So, that thing we were talking about…” I say. I should probably talk to my mom about it, but we had a discussion about the room just last weekend. I know she wants to rent it again. And we could use the cash.
“Oh, don’t worry. I know you were just trying to be nice,” Paige says.
“No, no. That’s not what I meant. I was going to say think about it? Maybe just think about it. I know all this,” I say, pointing behind me to my daughter, who is now singing songs to Sheila. “I know that seems overwhelming, but it’s not. You’d have total privacy. And Leah’s a great kid. I work so much, you’d probably see my mom more than anyone else.”
“I don’t know…” she says, her lips in a hard line. Her shoulders are hunched up, and I can actually see the tension in her neck, arms, and face.
“Paige. I’m asking you to sign a lease. I’m not asking you out on a date,” I say.
That flinch in her eyes from before—it’s back. I know that sounded mean, but I don’t want her getting the wrong idea either. Yeah, I think she’s cute, and flirting feels good. It’s been a while. I like our banter, and having a live-in Spanish tutor isn’t a bad thing either. But she’s, what, eighteen? Maybe nineteen? And I’m a dad. I’m on the seven-year college plan. Paige strikes me as someone who’s driven. I’m a speed bump. And I’m not sure I could ever really be whole for someone else.
“Here,” I say, reaching forward and tearing off a piece of the newspaper. I grab the pen she was using to circle ads, and make note of the fact she’s only circled one—an ad she’s also crossed out.
“Here’s my number,” I scribble it down and hand it to her. She takes it and holds it out in front of her, almost like it’s a lit match. “Think about it, over break. And if you want to move in at the start of the semester, the room is yours.”
I can hear my mom talking with Leah, so I let Paige go. She looks at me a few times while she gathers her things, and once again before she walks out the main door.
“And who was that?” my mom asks. She’s using her nosey-mother tone.
“A potential renter.”
“Uh huh . . . ” She lets her response linger for a while, her eyes scanning me, looking for me to give something more away.
“Stop it. She’s nice, and she’s in need of a new place to live. She said she’d call during the holidays if she decides,” I say.
“I see,” my mom answers, a tight smile holding in everything she’s dying to say.
“Stop it!” I roll my eyes at her and pull my apron over my head.
“I didn’t say anything,” she practically sings.
“You don’t have to. You never have to. You have that mom look. It’s so damned annoying,” I say, feeling Leah wrap her arms around my leg from behind.
“Damned,” Leah repeats.
“Awww, okay. Hey Leah? That’s one of those daddy words. And daddy shouldn’t say it, okay?” I say, bending down to meet her eye-to-eye. I pull her hands into mine, and we swing them back and forth.
“Damn, damn, damn,” she giggles. Oh my god, is this my kid!
“Let’s go, Leah. Time for pre-school,” my mom says, grabbing her granddaughter’s hand. Mom makes a face at me as she passes, her eyebrows raised excitedly. She’s still hung up over Paige.
“Stop it,” I mouth, making her laugh. I watch them leave, Leah’s hair swinging side-to-side, slapping at the base of her neck. I wish Bethany could have seen this. She would have loved our little girl’s hair.
“You want to slice the meat or prep the deli foods today, Houston?” Sheila asks, her hand already on the slicer. I smile because she’s already made the decision for me.
“I’ll get the side dishes,” I say, and I move to the back. While I pass, I notice an orange notebook on the floor under the table where Paige was sitting. I pick it up and flip through a few pages, realizing it’s her biology notes. The ink is purple, and her handwriting is perfect—not loopy or bubbly, but more like a traditional cursive, thin letters and straight lines. It doesn’t seem like her. But then again, it does.
I walk out front to see if I can still see her along the sidewalk, but she’s already gone. I’m sure she needs this for her final, and I half consider jogging down the roadway until I get to the walkway that leads to the sorority houses. But the lot is starting to fill up; there are a few regulars who I know can be difficult, so I turn back and join Sheila behind the counter, dropping the notebook on my school bag, hoping to reunite it with Paige soon.