Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Tails I Go, Heads I Don’t

Skye

“I got asked out on a date,” I blurt when Violet walks through the door.

“Cool.” She drops her backpack. “The guys are here, too. We’re supposed to order pizza and chicken wings, remember?” She thumbs over her shoulder as four gawky teen boys appear behind her.

“Hi boys!” My voice is all pitchy.

“Hi, Miss Hall. Congratulations on the date,” Michael, a senior who likely has a crush on my daughter, says.

I’m pretty sure they all have a crush on her, but none of them have enough balls to ask her out. Also, it would make the team dynamic awkward, and Violet isn’t interested in any of them. At least not that she’s expressed.

“Why don’t you guys get comfortable in the living room, and I’ll bring sodas in,” Violet says.

“I can help with the sodas,” Michael offers.

“It’s cool. I got it.” She plasters on a smile as they file out of the kitchen like awkward baby ducklings. She peeks around the corner before turning back to me. “You forgot they were coming over, huh?”

“I’m sorry. Today was busy. I have a set of taxes to prepare before tomorrow at five, and they’re a mess.” I motion to the kitchen table, which looks like it was struck by a paper bomb. I have a twenty-four-hour extension, which means tonight will be a long one. “It completely slipped my mind that the boys were coming over.”

“It’s cool. I’ll put out a bowl of chips while we wait.” Violet calls the pizza place and orders a lactose free pepperoni pizza for her, a gluten-free barbeque chicken pizza for Michael and Toby, and a meat-lovers for Ali and Kiernan and two orders of wings and chicken fingers. She tells them she has a coupon code for a free extra-large pizza and a pound of wings and once all the discounts are added, she writes the total on the whiteboard.

I pull out my credit card, but she holds up a hand. “The guys have already chipped in. Everyone paid ten bucks.”

“They don’t need to do that.”

“Their moms insisted. It’s fine. Now tell me more about this date you got asked on.”

I wave a hand around in the air. “I don’t know if I’ll go.”

Violet crosses her arms and props her hip against the counter. “Why not?”

“The timing isn’t right.”

She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She must have gotten sick of the contacts at some point today. “I’m almost sixteen, mom. College is just around the corner. I know my plan is to stay local and save on things like rent and unnecessary expenses, and that buys you another three or four years of me living with you, but it would still be good if you started dating.”

“So should you,” I point out.

“Deflector deflecting.” She thumbs over her shoulder, dropping her voice. “Teen boys are more awkward than baby goats and not nearly as cute. I’m in no rush to deal with that nonsense. Besides, thanks to all your pro-self-exploration talks, I have a feeling I’m much better equipped to deal with my own needs than high school boys.”

“Amen to that.” I raise my hand and Violet slaps it.

“You’ve dedicated the past decade and a half to making sure I’m a well-rounded young woman. I’m a freaking Mathlete. It’s safe to jump back into the dating pool. Unless this guy is creepy. Then take a pass.”

“He’s not creepy.” I fiddle with the charm on my necklace. Violet made it in art class in middle school and I wear it every day. “We can talk about this later. Go hang out with your friends.”

“Fine. I’ll leave it for now. But we’re coming back to this. You’re not even forty and I’ve overheard those guys calling you a MILF more than once.” She nods toward the living room.

I make a face. “I did not need to know that.”

She kisses me on the cheek. “I’m sorry you can’t unknow it, but it’s a compliment.” She grabs a bag of chips, a bowl, and five sodas before she disappears down the hall to the TV room.

Being a single parent means I have a unique relationship with Violet. We’re close, and I don’t have many of the issues my colleagues seem to have with their teens.

Sure, she gets cranky when it’s shark week, and then complains about the double stomach cramps when she inevitably gives into the craving for a milkshake and compounds her period pains with the moops. We have dairy intolerance in common. But mostly we have a great relationship. She’s easygoing and studious. She has nice friends. She doesn’t get into trouble.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should start dating. It’s not that I haven’t gone out with anyone in the past fifteen years, because I have. But I’ve been very careful not to mess with what Violet and I have. I would rather be alone than in a relationship with someone who creates tension between me and my daughter. But if the right person came along…well, that would change everything.

* * * *

“You should wear a V-neck instead.” Violet rolls off my bed, lands on her ass on the floor with an oof, picks herself off and limp-hops to my closet. “Show off the girls.”

“Are we too open with each other?” I run my hands over my hips. I’m wearing black dress pants and a royal blue blouse.

She reappears with a stack of tops. “That depends on who you ask. I also think the more important question is whether it would be better for me to be completely in the dark about how the female body works. Half the girls in my classes are relying on the internet for their information. Which is not the most reliable source. You’re my only parent. I’m your only daughter. We’re tight. You have rules and I follow most of them most of the time. I’m not an angry teenager who wears all black and acts like spending time with you is akin to going to a funeral. We have fun together. I think it’s cool that I get to help you pick out a date appropriate outfit.”

“It’s just coffee, and I’m still undecided whether I’m going.”

“I still can’t believe he didn’t get your number or give you his.” She holds out an embellished top better suited for a night out on the town. “Pair this with a blazer and you’re good to go.”

If there’s one thing Violet is good at, apart from math and spontaneously tripping over air—she gets those two from me—it’s putting together outfits.

“And if you were undecided, you wouldn’t be putting in this kind of effort.”

“Maybe he won’t show.” I try on the blouse and pull the black blazer over it. She’s right. It looks great. But the cleavage is a little much. I add a nude tank with lace trim so the girls aren’t the central focus.

“He’ll show. He’d be a fool not to.” She flops back down on my bed. “This time you need to get a last name, his phone number, and a link to one of his social media accounts. That way we can do some research before date two, if you decide you want to see him again.”

“Got it, get his last name, phone number and a link to social media.”

“Don’t get into a car with him.”

“We’re meeting at a café across from my work.”

“Right. Text me when you’re back at work, though, okay?”

“I don’t have to go, Violet. I can just not show up.”

“You need to go. He didn’t have to stop you, and he did. He wanted an excuse to talk to you. This is a perfectly safe first date and you deserve more romance in your life than watching the Hallmark channel and Fifty First Dates .”

“I love that movie.”

“I know. Now let’s go or I’ll be late for first period and then I’ll have to walk past John Kirkwood’s desk to get to mine and I would prefer if that didn’t happen today or any other day.”

* * * *

At eleven, I make a trip to the bathroom and freshen up my lipstick. I anxiety pee twice, grab my purse and head across the street to the café. Before I step inside, I text Violet to let her know that I’m going in.

She wishes me luck. And tells me to sneak her a pic, so she knows what he looks like. My palms are sweaty and I’m ridiculously nervous.

It’s been a while since I’ve ventured into the land of dating, and I’m out of practice. The café is busy, but I don’t see Sidney anywhere. I check my phone. It’s only eleven twenty-two. He said eleven thirty. I order my usual latte and barely resist the cheese croissant. Instead, I get a lavender and lemon scone, which is equally delicious but won’t wreak havoc on my intestines.

I sip my latte and try not to obsessively watch the door, but at eleven-thirty-five I get antsy.

Violet messages to ask how it’s going.

I hold off on replying in hopes he’s running late, but at eleven-forty-one I ask for a to-go bag for my uneaten lavender-lemon scone. The phone rings and Larissa grabs it as she passes me a small bag. “Coffee Emporium, Larissa speaking. How may I help you?”

“Thanks.” I turn to leave, the disappointment heavier than I expected.

“Uh yeah, she’s right here.” Larissa calls out, “Hey Skye, hold on. There’s a guy on the phone for you?” Her eyebrow and voice rise with her questioning tone.

I take the phone, my eyebrow arched in return. “Hello?”

“Skye, hey, hi, it’s Sidney. I’m so sorry. I witnessed an accident and I’m stuck at the scene.”

“Are you okay?” I fiddle with my necklace, my stomach flipping with his anxious tone.

“Yeah. Fine. Rattled, but fine. It seems to be mostly a fender bender. I didn’t want you to think I was a no-show. Can I give you my number? Maybe we can try again next week? Or sooner, depending on how you feel about second chances?”

“Um—”

“I promise I’m not in the habit of standing people up. I’d rather be there with you than here.”

“Sure, you can give me your number,” I concede.

Larissa’s eyes light up and she pushes a Sharpie and a piece of paper toward me. Sidney recites his number and I repeat it to him.

“I gotta go. The police finally arrived. I hope I hear from you. Have a good day, Skye.” The sirens in the background prove he’s telling the truth about the accident.

He ends the call and I pass the phone back to Larissa. “Thanks. Sorry about that. I was supposed to meet someone here, but I didn’t have his number,” I explain.

Larissa’s eyes light up. “Was that the hottie business guy who was in here last week?”

“Yeah, do you know anything about him?”

“He comes in once or twice a week. Always dressed in a suit and super polite.”

“That’s good. Thanks again, Larissa. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I leave the café and return to work, not quite so dejected now that I have his number.

Once I’m back in my office, I check my messages. I have two from Violet asking for an update.

Mom : It didn’t work out. I’ll fill you in at dinner.

Violet : :(

Mom : It’s fine. Have a meeting, chat later. xo

* * * *

“So what the heck happened? Does he dress up as a clown on the weekends or something?” Violet asks as she slices carrots into coins.

I snort. “No. He witnessed a car accident and stuck around so he could give a statement to the police. He called the café, so I’d know he didn’t stand me up.”

Violet puts her hand to her chest. “Oh, I like him already.”

“It was definitely the polite thing to do. And I have his number now.” I dredge the chicken through the breading and place the strip on the pan. We’re having chicken fingers and fries for dinner, which is a step up from the Pop Tarts Violet suggested. She would eat gummy bears for breakfast if I let her. In her defense, I can’t burn those.

Her eyes light up. “Did you get a last name?”

“I didn’t. It was a rushed conversation.”

“But now you have his number.” She pops a carrot coin in her mouth.

“That’s right.”

She transfers the rest of the carrots into a Corningware pan and drizzles it with olive oil, brown sugar and fresh thyme. “Have you messaged him?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Okay, good. I say you wait until tomorrow night to message, just to keep him on his toes. You can open with a question about the accident and if everything worked out. Then let him broach the subject of another date.” She sprinkles some salt on the carrots and slides the dish into the oven. “How long should these cook for?”

“You can set the timer for twenty minutes.” I finish the chicken and put it beside the carrots. “It’s a little hilarious that I’m getting dating advice from my teenage daughter.”

“High school is the mecca of dating nonsense. And you can get his last name by telling him you want to add it to his contact, then we can go on a recon mission and find out more stuff about him. Unless his name is something like Smith, then it’ll be tougher, but I do love a challenge.”