Dear Ida,
My husband seems to have lost his sexual desire…
Dear Ida,
I’m dating a man who is thoughtful and caring. The problem is he’s a slob and…
Dear Ida,
I fear I let the love of my life slip through my fingers a few years back. Everyone that I meet pales…
By the time I was done, I wanted to bang my head on the desk. I’d already felt like shit about the way Graham and I left off this morning. Reading about all these relationship problems made me realize how unappreciative I truly was. Here Graham was coming all the way out to Brooklyn to pick me up, putting everything out there by telling me how much he missed me (not to mention delivering a pretty damn spectacular early morning orgasm while taking no physical pleasure for himself), and what did I do? Make him feel like shit. Nice job, Soraya.
The thing was, I wanted him more than I even knew it was possible to want another human being. And that thought scared the living hell out of me. Even more so now that there was a child involved. I sat back in my seat and tried to imagine my life without Graham. It didn’t take long to realize I was screwed. Because I no longer could. It also made me realize I was being one hell of a shitty girlfriend.
Taking a deep breath, I reached for my phone.
Soraya: I’m sorry about this morning. I do want to meet Chloe.
The little dots began jumping immediately. I wondered if he was having trouble concentrating because of the way we left things, too.
Graham: Are you sure?
Soraya: She’s an extension of you, and I want to know all of you.
My phone sat quiet for a few minutes, and I waited impatiently for a response.
Graham: Thank you, Soraya.
Soraya: No. Thank you.
Graham: For this morning?
Soraya: For being the man you are.
I was relatively calm again after that. At least for two more days. Until Saturday when we were on our way to lunch to meet Genevieve and Chloe.
***
“YOU TOLD GENEVIEVE I was coming, right?”
“Yes.”
“And she didn’t object.”
Graham’s jaw flexed, and he didn’t say anything. Then again, he didn’t need to.
“She doesn’t want me here,” I sighed.
“It doesn’t matter what she wants.”
“Of course it does. She’s Chloe’s mother.”
We were riding in the back of Graham’s car, traffic was very light, and we were more than a half hour early for lunch. My nerves were already on edge and this new little piece of information—knowing Genevieve had voiced she didn’t want me there—made my head pound.
“If she had a legitimate concern for the welfare of Chloe, I would have agreed to put off introducing you. But she didn’t, and it’s important to me.” He reached for my hand and squeezed.
“What was her concern then?”
Again, that telling muscle in his jaw flexed. “It’s not important.”
Even though I wanted to know, I left it be. Mostly because we pulled up on 3rd Avenue and Louis interrupted. “60th is closed. Got some kind of a crane in the street, so they have the entire thing blocked off.”
“That’s fine. We’ll get out here,” Graham responded.
After exiting the car, he checked his watch before extending his hand to help me out of the back and didn’t let go after shutting the door behind me. “Do you want to go to the restaurant early?”
“It’s nice out. Why don’t we take a walk around the block?” I figured sitting and waiting would be way more stressful than taking a walk on a beautiful day.
Midway through our stroll, we passed a dance studio, West Side Steps. “Is this where Chloe is?” Genevieve had told Graham that Chloe had just started a new session of dance classes not too far from Serendipity 3.
“I don’t know.” We slowed, but the large glass front window was mirrored so no one could see in. After we passed, a woman’s voice called after us.
“Graham.” Turning back, we found Genevieve holding open the door to the dance studio.
“Genevieve.” Graham nodded. “You remember, Soraya.”
She flashed a practiced megawatt smile. “I do. How nice to see you.”
Sure, it is.
“Class doesn’t end for another twenty minutes. But you can watch through the viewing room. It’s one-way glass so she won’t see you watching her practice.” Graham looked to me, and I nodded.
Inside, the viewing room was filled with parents. Most sitting around and chatting, not even looking through the glass at the class on the other side. Graham hesitantly walked to the window. The room was filled with four-and five-year-old girls wearing ballet tutus. I searched for Chloe amongst the sea of pink. She would have stood out even if she weren’t the most adorable little girl in the room. Her outfit was neon green, where the other girls all wore pastels.
“She refuses to conform and wear what the other girls wear to class. I’m hoping she’ll grow out of it.”