“It’ll probably be more like seven.”
“How ’bout you call me when you’re ready. It’s earlier, I’ll come earlier. It’s later, I’ll come later.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
“Text me your address and I’ll bring the condoms. You don’t have to worry about that shit.”
I blinked at my beautifully crocheted throw.
Was he coming for dinner?
Or for sex?
“Okay?” he prompted.
“I’ll text you my address,” I replied.
“Great, babe. Now I’ll let you go so you can finish your facial, eat your lasagna and read A through F of the encyclopedia.”
“Sorry?”
“Izzy, you do more in one day than a lot of people do in a year.”
“Hmm . . .” I hummed because I never thought of it, but that was probably true.
Mom taught me that. Even when we lived in apartments, she had herb gardens in the kitchen window, tomato pots on the balcony, front or back stoop, as many animals as the landlord would allow (and some they wouldn’t), and in the rare occasion we had extra money, she cooked up a vegan storm doing things with tofu, beans and lentils that made my mouth water at the memory.
Our house was never exactly tidy but whenever she scored skeins of yarn, she also knitted and crocheted. She’d horde bits and pieces everywhere she could find them to get the stuff to make all her own cards and saved up to make huge scrapbooks for any occasion (all of which I had in my bookshelf in my office). She meditated, journaled, read anything she could get her hands on, sometimes wrote poetry or lyrics to songs she’d read or sing to us. She’d often spend hours doodling or turn the music loud and make us get up and dance with her, or sometimes she’d just take us outside, anywhere outside, and lay us down on an old blanket to look up at the stars.
I always thought it was because we couldn’t afford a TV.
But I was beginning to wonder, even if we could, if she’d have had one.
“You camp?” Johnny asked into my thoughts.
“Is that have I or would I?” I asked back.
“The last,” he clarified.
“Well, just to say, it’s yes to both.”
“Take you camping.”
My heart leapt.
“You free next weekend?’ he asked.
My heart leapt higher.
Then my brain kicked in.
“I’m having friends over for dinner Saturday night.”
“That’s cool. Maybe another time.”
“I could see if they’d do Friday,” I offered.
“You’re up for that, Iz, we’ll head out Saturday morning.”
We’d head out Saturday morning.
And I was sure he’d bring condoms.
But if you camped, you didn’t do it just for an alternate place to have sex.
You did it to spend time with nature.
And whoever you were with.
“I’ll change dinner,” I told him.
“Great, babe. Now I’m gonna let you go.”
“Okay. I hope, well . . . whatever you’re doing, I hope it brings you some peace.”
He didn’t say anything for long moments before he said, “It never does, but that’s still sweet, Izzy.”
“Sorry, Johnny,” I whispered, then knowing he wanted to let me go, I finished, “Take care and see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow, Iz. Later.”
“’Bye.”
We hung up and I stared at my beautifully crocheted throw.
We were having dinner tomorrow and then spending the weekend camping.
I wondered if he’d let me bring Dempsey and Swirl.
I’d still have to ask Deanna and Charlie to look after the rest.
Another thank-you dinner.
That wouldn’t be hard.
And Johnny wanted to take me camping.
He’d probably camped with Shandra.
However, next weekend he’d be camping with me.
Maybe I was an idiot.
But I didn’t care.
He hadn’t asked me to mother his children and he hadn’t made any promises of any sort, except that he’d be there tomorrow and we’d be camping next weekend.
I could live in the moment.
I had the info I needed.
I could enjoy Johnny.
And I could let him enjoy me.
I was Eliza “Izzy” Forrester, daughter to Daphne, sister to Adeline, and if my mother and sister taught me nothing (and they didn’t, they taught me a lot, good and bad, but mostly good), they taught me to enjoy everything I could.
So I needed to stop obsessing, ordering, thinking.
I needed to just let things . . .
Be.
Unicorn
Izzy
“SO CAN YOU do Friday instead of Saturday?”
I was in Deanna’s office and had just told her about camping with Johnny.
And after I finished talking, I studied her face. She was a couple of years older than me, but at times she felt decades wiser than me, and I was trying to get a lock on what she thought of this latest development.
“That boy isn’t playing any games,” she replied rather than answering my question.
“Sorry?” I asked.
“Charlie said the same thing yesterday when I told him what was going down. Said if this guy was playing you, he’d not be coming to dinner tonight. He’d be calling you two days from now at around nine thirty and setting up a booty call. Now he’s called you and set up a whole weekend together on top of dinner. So yeah . . . this boy isn’t playing any games.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” I told her.
“That’s ’cause you had a long dry spell before Kent, and also ’cause Kent was a successfully disguised psycho, so when you met him neither of us saw he was a successfully disguised psycho and we just thought he was into you. But, you’ll remember, we met Charlie at that bar and I gave him my number, and he made me wait three days before he called. When he did, I didn’t pick up. I waited two days to call him back, and when he answered the first thing I said was, if he pulled that crap again we wouldn’t even get to our first date. He didn’t pull that crap again. He was a player and he admitted it to me on our first date. But he saw what he wanted in me and the games ended. This Johnny, he’s not playing games right off the bat.”
I wanted that to feel good.
Instead, I said, “I don’t think it matters.”
“Uh . . . what?” she asked.
“He wants me for sex.”
She stared at me.
“And I’m good with that,” I told her.
She kept staring at me but she did it this time looking freaked.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” I continued. “He likes me. But I’ve been thinking on things and he’s making it clear this might be about spending time together, but it’s mostly about having sex. He’s not giving me the wrong impression. He told me not to worry about tonight, he’d bring the condoms. He didn’t ask if he could bring a bottle of wine and he didn’t ask if maybe I might want to rent a movie to watch with him after dinner. He assured me he’d bring the condoms. So I know the lay of the land and I’m good with that.”
Her eyes narrowed and she asked, “You sure?”
I nodded. “Totally.”
She stared at me again and didn’t hide she didn’t believe me, and she did this by beginning to look alarmed.