Chapter Five:

Chapter Five:

THE NEXTday lasted about four years, by Kyle’s estimation.

He’d decided he was indeed going back to the Snow Circus, but swinging by the scarf booth the very next day would have seemed nuts. Imagine Vic spotting Kyle the day after. Wouldn’t that seem weird?The last thing Kyle wanted was to make the shop owner uncomfortable. What if he mistook simple cordiality for pushiness or desperation? Poor guy might think he’d gained a stalker.

Granted, Kyle was far from brazen. He’d surprised himself with the idea of tentatively pursuing the blond man from the day before. But he’d been out of the game for so long that his reading of their conversation could’ve been eight different kinds of tangled.

He also spent a not inconsiderable amount of time concocting a coherent alibi for a return visit: “It’s supposed to be sunnier out on the river today,” or “I promised the kids we’d try those pumpkin churros.” So far every option he’d cooked up seemed pitiful and obvious.

Ugh. He hated feeling this ridiculous, but he loved that he couldn’t stop the feeling. It had been a long time since anyone had slipped past his defenses.

At least his work kept him somewhat occupied. By lunch, he had a new contract signed and a deposit paid up front by the client. He would essentially be building a merchant website from the ground up with all kinds of potential, so the gig should serve as a lucrative distraction.

For his lunch break, he wandered down the aisles of the local grocery store called Save and Savor. He’d always been a creature of habit when feeding himself. There’d been a whole year where his breakfast consisted of Pop-Tarts and Red Bulls. But for his kids, he tried to provide more variety and fewer preservatives. Kyle knew he wasn’t a world-class chef, but he could usually find inspiration for a meal after picking out a fresh ingredient or two.

The store had opted out of harsh fluorescent overhead lights and instead went for more of an ambient glow. Some people cited the absence of brand names as a reason they didn’t shop there, but that was one of the main draws for Kyle. The lack of brand names and slick packaging meant more local produce and less padded prices.

Free from the distraction of work, his mind kept wandering back to Vic’s warm grin. Should he go back to the Snow Circus? Tomorrow would seem normal, right? The thought vaguely terrified him as he stared at a can of cream of mushroom soup for a full five minutes before adding it to his basket. He fidgeted with the end tassels of his new scarf as he wandered, almost in a daze, from aisle to aisle.

Then he cursed under his breath. Idiot, he scolded himself. You’ve been wearing your excuse to go back the entire time.

After all, Alice had said that she liked his scarf.

THE NEXTmorning, Kyle’s flustered feelings turned into a frantic, last-minute makeover.

He’d never given much thought to his appearance. A comb could usually tame his wavy hair without too much visible protest, but after his morning shower, he chanced a bit of product to make the waves appear more purposeful. He shaved extra closely and used eyedrops so he didn’t look exhausted. At the age of thirty-two, he already had tiny streaks of gray through his dark hair which he kind of liked. Plus, any freaky makeover attempts would be a dead giveaway and a big red flag.

The dab of cologne was probably bordering on conspicuous. White Moss and Snowdrop—it was Snow Circus at the holidays after all. He almost decided against it, but cologne had some plausible deniability to it. A little effort went a long way, right?

Better safe than sorry. He might be the kind of guy who groomed and plucked and exfoliated on a weekly basis for all Vic knew.

He took care with his outfit as well. He’d always been a fan of button-down shirts, but this one was a relatively new addition, a deep midnight blue. He rolled the sleeves to show off his forearms, because doing yardwork himself had done him no harm.. Kyle also chose a pair of new jeans slightly tighter than he usually wore to work.

He inspected himself in the mirror. He looked professional, but not to the point of appearing stiff or stuffy. He and his unruly hair had reached a reluctant understanding. The darker colors emphasized his olive complexion, and the midnight hue made his hair look blacker and his eyes brighter. All in all, he felt pretty okay about the final result.

Not to mention, the whole getup complimented his new scarf perfectly. He knew he was overthinking this “chance” encounter, but something told him the effort was worth it. Chin up. I can do this.

He glanced at the clock and blinked. It was over twenty minutes past when he usually started breakfast. He made his way downstairs, careful not to rush in case his footsteps alerted the kids.

He was by no means catastrophically late. Alice and Zach wouldn’t have to rush through breakfast, but he did regret missing that little stretch of zen that came from being the only one awake. Would that throw him off? Stress him out? Or heaven forbid, bring back the nervous stutter he’d overcome as a kid?

He was surprised to see Alice already seated at the table when he came into the kitchen. Her pencil was poised above a school worksheet, a sign of probable procrastination. Just like him, she always performed better under a time crunch. She paused, turned to him, and furrowed her brow.

Kyle caught the nearly imperceptible widening of her nostrils. He braced himself.

“Are you going on a date?” she asked incredulously.

Kyle scowled at her good-naturedly. “Do you have to sound so surprised?” He walked to the fridge and dug out the eggs he’d decided to make.

“Well, are you?” she pressed.

Kyle was glad he was facing away from her as he retrieved a slab of bacon from the refrigerator. His kids knew he had dated. That had never caused issues, since they both seemed to be on the same page about their mother as he was. Granted, the furthest he ever got with dates were a few rebound duds whose names his kids never even knew. In fact, his previous dates never even knew where Kyle lived, which suited him just fine.

“Not exactly…,” he admitted, straightening to turn and rest his elbows on the kitchen island. “There was someone I hit it off with the other day, and I was thinking I would go back and say hello. I may have been completely misreading the whole thing, so there really isn’t much to tell.”

Alice straightened. She set her pencil down and turned in her chair to face him, very much a savvy young lady. “Isn’t much to tell? No way. Is it a guy or a girl? What’s their name? Where’d you meet? What do they look like? Brunette, blond, or redhead?”

Kyle could feel the heat pooling in his cheeks. “I hope your game of Twenty Questions means you managed to finish your homework, young lady.”

Alice moved her forearm, obscuring the bottom half of the page. “You can hope.”

Kyle chuckled. “Tell you what. I’ll let you know if it goes anywhere. But don’t get your hopes up.” As he spoke, he could hear Zach’s footsteps coming down the stairs, his blanket wrapped around him like a cloak.

“I bet it will,” Zach said with a squeaking yawn, apparently having caught at least part of the conversation. “Mrs. Underwood saw you walking me home one day and said that you were ‘too good-looking to be straight’.”

Knowing Mrs. Underwood’s age, it might’ve been a compliment or an insult, but Kyle was tempted to take it. “That’s a stereotype,” he reminded Zach gently, whisking some cinnamon into the egg batter. “Being good-looking isn’t a requirement.”

“Yeah, Zach,” Alice told him matter-of-factly. “Being funny is.”

Kyle opened his mouth to interject, then reconsidered. He didn’t have a ready contradiction for that one. “Are you kids going to have mercy on me and tell me how you want your eggs this morning instead?”

Thankfully, they dropped the subject. Kyle made their three breakfasts and had them on the table in record time. They spent the rest of their meal together discussing the new “no applause” rule in Zach’s lunch period. “One table would start clapping randomly, and then everyone would do it,” he explained. “Like the whole lunchroom. Cheering and everything. It happens every couple of days now, and the teachers get really mad.” He tried to stifle a snort but couldn’t manage it.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. He pointed at his son with his fork, scrambled eggs still clumped on the end. “And I’m sure you innocently sit there and don’t join in at all, right?”

Zach looked up at his own eyebrows, rubbing one of his eyes under his glasses with the corner of his blanket. “They get so mad so quick, it’s funny. All we’re doing is clapping. One time I slapped a bug on my arm and a teacher thought it was a clap and she spun around so hard, she almost fell over.”

Alice chuckled, making an audible crunching noise as she munched on the last of her bacon. “The kids in my class had a competition on how high they could fling pickles and make them stick to the walls.”

“See, I can see why they would get mad at that.” Zach said, frowning. “That’s mean to the janitor and stuff, right? With claps, there’s nothing to clean up.”

Alice nodded. “It was even worse last year. They had this game called ‘assassin’ where people would go up behind other kids and mark their throat with a marker, like you killed them. Lots of people got in trouble for that one.”

Kyle blinked a few times at that, scraping his plate clean before rising to drop it off at the sink. “See, this is why they have a separate school building for fifth and sixth grade. At that age, they’re not even trying to teach you anymore. They’re trying to contain you.”

Both Alice and Zach smiled at that. God they’re growing up so fast.

When Kyle walked them to their respective schools, he marveled at what a beautiful day it was already proving to be. It was in the low thirties with a light breeze doing just enough to keep the air feeling crisp. The sun was losing a hide-and-seek game with the clouds, adding welcome golden spikes of light while it was ahead. Kyle swung by Zach’s elementary school first, giving his son his customary ruffling of his hair as a good-bye. Next came Alice’s intermediate school, only two blocks down.

“All right, sweetheart,” Kyle said, as tradition demanded. A short sidewalk cut between two houses and led to the back entrance of the school. Kyle preferred the path less traveled, and this was about as close as he could get. “Don’t get in too much trouble.”

To his surprise, Alice hugged him around the waist. Alice had never been a particularly touchy kid—she got most of her physical contact via sports and games. Kyle smiled, wrapping his arms around his firstborn. “What’s up, pumpkin?” he asked gently.

“I’m glad you’re trying to get a boyfriend,” Alice mumbled into his chest. “Don’t give up. Unless they’re, like, a twerp. Then you can give up.” Alice pulled back, frowning at him with her arms still locked around his waist. It struck Kyle how earnest Alice’s expression was, as if this distant prospect brought out some hope and even vulnerability in her. “Am I allowed to swear? I couldn’t think of any good words and ‘twerp’ seemed okay.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” Kyle said with a gentle laugh. “Besides, you shouldn’t be worrying about your dad’s half-baked personal life, okay? You should be worried about school, and your friends, and seeing who can stick the highest pickle to the wall in the lunchroom.”

Alice gasped, dropping her arms. “I didn’t say that was me!”

“You didn’t, but I’ve played darts against you recently. You have to be practicing somewhere,” he teased.

Alice wrinkled her nose at him. “Spoken like a sore loser.”

Kyle tried not to laugh. “Okay, very funny. Save the trash-talk for your next basketball game, will you?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Good luck on your date.” she said.

He waved at her as she trotted off to her school. He’d meant it when he told her to focus on her own life. Not because he felt she was prying, but because he didn’t need his children to worry about him. It should be the other way around.

But now, both his son and daughter safely ensconced in school. He could focus on himself today.

If only he could learn how.

THE ONEdownside Kyle could see in setting his own hours was that he had to decide when to take lunch. Most folks would consider this a perk, but most folks didn’t consider a simple decision to be as nerve-racking as defusing a bomb while wearing mittens.

By around eleven, Kyle’s stomach was in knots. He’d gone to the bathroom twice just to wash his clammy hands and make sure he hadn’t screwed up his hair or clothes somehow. He’d gotten only a minimal amount of work done, just enough to not have to rush to meet deadlines, but his productivity was way under par. He found himself staring at a webpage for a full half hour, toggling the header font between Times New Roman and Merriweather.

It was eleven-thirteen. The simple passing of time made Kyle feel like he was frozen. Late morning seems normal, right? Less foot traffic. More time to talk, if Vic even wanted to talk.

He knew he had to go soon, or he wouldn’t leave the office building until the end of the day.

Eleven-fifteen. A nice, solid, sensible number.

Kyle stood, walked to the elevator, and pushed the down button.