My mom was not a night owl. She typically went to bed the moment she got home from work, and rose at four in the morning. But when I got home from my date with Jordan, I found her waiting in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in her hands.
“There’s my daughter!” she said happily. “How was the date? It went well, did it?”
I told her about my night. The events poured out of me because I was excited to tell someone. Mom practically vibrated on the kitchen stool.
“This man, Jordan, will give me big firefighting grandbabies!” she declared.
I rolled my eyes. “Again, Jason and Maurice already gave you a grandson.”
“One is wonderful,” she said, “but more is better!”
I replayed the evening in my head while getting ready for bed. One thing that stuck out was what Jordan had said at the end of the night, about how his two firefighting colleagues also had crushes on me. How Jordan had beaten them to the punch of asking me out.
I didn’t think I would go out with either of them. Not when the first date with Jordan had gone so well. But it was nice to know I wasdesired. Curvy girls like me didn’t always get so much attention. It made me feel like I was the belle of the ball.
I can’t wait to go out with him again.
Weekends were always busy at the restaurant, and I didn’t have much free time. I knew all about the “two-day rule,” but I ignored it and texted Jordan on Saturday.
Clara: I had a great time last night! Hope we can hang out again soon.
Jordan: Totally
Clara: Was everything okay at the firehouse?
Jordan: Why wouldn’t it be? Is there a rumor that something weird is going on?
Clara: No, I’m referring to the phone call you got at the end of our date.
Jordan: Oh, right. Yeah, everything is fine.
Jordan: Gotta go, talk to you soon!
It seemed like Jordan was acting weird, but I tried not to overanalyze it. Our date had been fantastic, and I wasn’t going to let anything ruin the giddy afterglow that I felt.
The restaurant was closed on Mondays, so it was pretty much the only day I had off. I allowed myself to sleep in, ate a lazy lunch, and then went for a jog.
It was a gorgeous day in California, mid-eighties and almost no humidity. I wasn’t a very good jogger, but I still tried to make an effort once or twice a week. Even if it felt impossible to lose weight, the exercise did a good job of flooding my body with wonderful hormones that brightened my mood.
It also cleared my mind.
I did some of my best thinking while out for a run. Today, my mind drifted to the future. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life. I hadneverknown, if I was being totally honest. I majored in English Literature in college, and there wasn’t much I could do with that. Not much that interested me, at least.
When dad got sick, coming home helped give me a sense of direction. It was the easy thing to do. But now that he was gone, I felt rudderless again. Drifting along in the ocean of life, with no idea where I was supposed to be going.
I believed that things happened for a reason. Life would give me a sign. When I was debating where to go to college, a bus with a UC Irvine advertisement drove by the restaurant. I took that as a sign and applied the next day. When I was choosing my major in the library one day, a biography about Emily Bronte fell off the shelf and hit me on the head. Another sign.
A week before graduation, when I was trying to decide what to do next, we got the news about Dad. That wasn’t agoodsign, but it decided things for me.
I desperately needed a sign right now. I had been home for a year, first working in the kitchen at the restaurant, and now doing a little bit of everything. Too much time had passed. I needed somethingnew.
I gazed up at the billowy white clouds, wishing they would spell out my next move for me.
When I got home, mom was grinning at me. “What’s up with you?” I asked.
She casually nodded at the kitchen counter. “You got a phone call. While you were gone.”
I ran to the counter and grabbed it.