“Thank you,” I say when she hands me a cup of coffee. I hear the girls giggling and laughing, and I make myself comfortable on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. “How was Bennett for you?”
“Fine, as always,” Susan says. “How was your night?” She smirks knowingly. She’s been trading babysitting with me long enough to know that I like to spend my night off at clubs of some kind.
“It was okay,” I tell her. I should probably pour my heart out, but I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Maybe after another cup of coffee.
“Not the greatest?” She asks. Susan looks completely put-together this morning. Her hair is styled and her makeup is done. She’s wearing cute jeans with a nice shirt and she even has shoes on. I’m guessing that shortly after I leave, Jim will be making an appearance. He’s probably planning on taking the girls out to lunch. He’s sweet to them that way.
“It wasn’t bad,” I tell her. “But you know,” I pause. I don’t know what I want to say. I don’t know how to put what I’m feeling into words.
“But you want something more,” Susan supplies helpfully.
“Yeah,” I say, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I want something more, with someone more. It’s been a long time since Cameron passed away. Sometimes it feels like the blink of an eye and sometimes it feels like a lifetime. Things are so different now. I’ve had to be strong for so long and sometimes, I don’t know, Susan.”
“Sometimes you want someone to take care of you?”
“Does that make me sound totally pathetic?” I ask, wincing.
“Not at all. We all need that, Christina. We all need someone sometimes. I felt the same way before Jim and I got together, you know.”
“I remember,” I say. Susan struggled with whether or not she was ready to date someone. She worried about whether she’d waited long enough after her husband’s death to start dating. She worried what people would think. She worried so much.
But she needn’t have worried.
Jim is totally perfect for her. He’s nice, and normal, and she spoils her.
He takes care of her.
He watches over her.
And part of me wishes I could find someone like that, but part of me is scared that deep down, I’m too much of a freak for that. Playing at Anchored is my “me” time. It’s how I relax. It’s how I unwind. It’s also how I let myself feel.
I’ve had to be strong for so long. I’ve had to keep my emotions locked up because if I think about my grief too much, it will overwhelm me. Then I won’t be able to go to work and I won’t be able to focus and I won’t be able to do anything. That can’t happen because Bennett is depending on me. She needs me.
What if I start dating someone and he breaks my heart?
What if that’s the final straw?
What if that’s all it takes to shatter me?
What if I break and there’s no one to pick up the pieces?
What will I do then?
I can’t let my daughter down. I’m
all she has left. If I get into a relationship and it fails, she’s going to experience the effects of that. If I get into a relationship and things go horribly, terribly wrong, Bennett is going to suffer, too, and that’s not really fair.
“Christina, there’s nothing wrong with admitting you want someone.”
“I don’t want someone specifically,” I tell her. “I don’t have a secret crush or anything like that. There’s no tall, dark, and handsome stranger waiting in the shadows for me. I just sometimes wish I wasn’t so alone all the time.”
“This is going to sound really lame, hon, but have you thought about just getting on a dating app and finding someone? You know, just testing the waters? You don’t have to sleep with anyone,” she adds quickly. “But what if you just went on a couple of dates? You know, just to see how it goes.”
“I haven’t really thought about it,” I admit.
“There’s a good one,” she says. “It’s called Turntable. You should check it out. That’s how Jim and I met, after all.”
“Really?” She never told me that.