I offer her another forced smile. We’ve only exchanged a wave because of our separated seats.
Maybe the woman outside knows more about screechy recorder days. She’s obviously someone’s mother and sits a few rows in front of us. There isn’t a man next to her but an elderly couple on one side and a teenage boy on the other.
With Tam’s performance finished, she returns to her seat and mouths to her dad:Did you see me?
He chuckles as he gives her a thumbs up. They’re so sweet together. He doesn’t miss a moment.
She’s the luckiest little girl.
When the concert ends, the sea of adults collect their children, and people make their way to the exit. Tam is holding her grandmother’s hand while Lisa and Marnie walk ahead of us.
“Come over,” Zebb invites. “We’re having a little post-concert snowman ice cream. Plus, Tam has something for you.”
“Zebb.” I sigh. “I can’t tonight.”
“What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet this whole night.”
“I was listening to the concert.” While some of the performances were amazing, my mind wandered until the older kids played a rendition of “Ring Christmas Bells.” As the song rose in tempo, my heart raced, and my eyes fogged. I’ve heard this song a hundred times in a variety of versions and yet those eighth graders, clanging their bells in a church, were bringing me to tears.
“Come to the house. I can even drive you home tonight.” He’s teasing in tone but the reminder of going home in a paid car stings. It’s a reminder of other nights with failed dates or faltering relationships.
“I can’t.”
We’ve stepped outside. Zebb’s mother is leading Tam down the street. They must have walked here as the side streets are packed with cars and Zebb’s home is only a few blocks away. I’m pulling my phone out of my pocket to order a car when Zebb tugs me down the alley at the side of the church. His big body presses me against the brick wall.
“What am I missing here?” Zebb asks. “You’re different tonight. Talk to me.”
I should mention the woman. I should tell him about my mother. I should say how I’ve had this nagging feeling about us since the other night, but I don’t. He needs to get to his daughter. He needs to celebrate her concert. Make another memory with her. Relish the magic of this time of year.
“It’s been a long day and tomorrow, I’ll do it all again.”
Rise. Work. Rinse. Repeat.
Zebb sighs, hands on my shoulders as he watches me. “Lisa and Marnie are going to tell my mom tonight that their adoption was approved. They’re getting a baby. I should be there for their announcement.”
Fuck.A baby? Adoption? I wish Lisa and Marnie every bit of happiness, but this is just one more reminder that I’m alone. I’m a forty-year-old, single woman without a family of my own.
Zebb’s eyes search my face. “But something tells me I should take you to your place and we should talk.”
“I don’t want you to miss out on this important moment for your family, Zebb.” I can’t help but reach for him, running my hand down his dressy peacoat.
“Why aren’t you ever wearing mittens?” He softly chuckles and cups my hand in his, lifting it to press a kiss to my knuckles.
“Go, Zebb,” I whisper.
He looks up at me, eyes dark and uncertain. Then his mouth is crushing mine and he’s kissing me hard and desperate beside the church. My fingers tug at his wool jacket and his hands are holding my jaw. His mouth is fire and brimstone and a statement of all the sins he’d like to perform with me.
And then he’s pulling back.
“Goodbye, Zebb.” I push his chest, and he steps back, but covers my hand with his, pinning me in place. His brow pinches.
“You mean, goodnight. Not goodbye.”
“That’s what I said,” I softly respond.
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”