Finally, it happened. And not as I imagined.
There I was, goying it up with my chicken quesadilla at Anna’s, the Pea patiently allowing me to hand-feed her crumbs of these cheesy soy puff thingies, minding my own damn business. The baby loved the crowded restaurant, looking at the people, the Mediterranean chandeliers, the music… I followed her wide-eyed stares around the room, and spotted the thick black hair, fleur de lis facial hair, impossibly long eyelashes, familiar purple backpack that had spent many nights on my bedroom floor. Stefan.
His back to me, I prayed that if I just ate my food, helped the Pea, he would get his damn lunch without noticing me. I couldn’t believe my racing heart and shaking hands, the flush in my cheeks, throat too tight to swallow any more food. I prayed, please don’t notice me, please DO notice me, please… something happen. Maybe I could get out without him noticing. Yeah, be proactive, take charge. Or I could dig out Pea’s blanket and put it over my head and the whole world could disappear.
“Jo!” Who, me? “Jo! Hi!”
He left his place in the long line to walk over to me, arms outstretched, smiling eagerly.
“How are you?” He bent to hug me and I briefly considered standing to make it easier, rejected the thought, trying to feel a little angry. Let’s keep this short, sir.
“Hi Stef.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“Oh… sure… go ahead.”
\The Pea looked at him, expressionless but steadfast.
“Pea, meet Stefan. Stefan, this is Little Pea.”
“Nice to meet you! Oh aren’t you a cutie!”
“She’s perfect,” what I usually say to people she charms, because I don’t know what nannies are supposed to say.
“God, look at those eyes,” he said.
“I know. She’s so sweet.”
“So…” Stefan turned his full attention, intense eyes, whole body leaning in, “How are you?”
“Oh, y’know. I’m okay.”
“Yeah, what are you up to?”
“I mean… yeah, just hanging out with Pea, really.”
“Cool…” He gently played with her fingers, mimicking her small slapping of the table. She smiled and giggled. Apparently she is not ready to be released into the wild, considering she can’t smell this shark in the water. I had to get rid of him. And ignore the compulsion to keep him there as long as possible, to confess his undying love, that he made a huge mistake, that he dreams of me at night…
“So, what about you, Stef? Still working at the same place?”
“Yeah, still working there,” he said, with a slight roll of the eyes.
“That good?”
We chuckled like old friends. I realized how relaxed I must seem to him, calmly feeding the baby, idly chatting. When could I tell him I’m still dismantled?
“So, how are you?” he asked again. What did he want to know? I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“I’m fine. Are you still in Somerville?”
“No, actually, North Brighton.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, remember my roommate’s boyfriend who dealt coke?”
We lapsed into smalltalk about moving, the baby’s unbearable cuteness, neither of us having the balls to ask the other about possible relationships. I couldn’t make myself ask, “So, did she smoke up with you? Was that it? She was skinny, right? Latina, maybe? Orders her burritos in Spanish like you?”
Stef excused himself to order lunch for the guys at work. I turned all of my attention to Pea, who celebrated her latest charm victory with giggles and enthusiastic grabbing of my forearm. (I have scratches today as proof of her giddiness.) I tried to eat more, managed a few bites, pushed the food away at last and pulled the Pea out of her chair. She kept the cuteness coming, laughing, smushing her face against mine, cuddling. I thought for a second that if I took my time getting ready to leave, we could run into him again, talk a little more, about the weather, his family, anything. Just one more little moment…
I felt suddenly sick. Disgusted with my own loneliness, I decided to hurry instead. Of course, the Laws of Nannyhood state, in Article 6 Section B, that, “All efforts to hurry are futile and will be stymied, as well as resulting in an extra ten minutes of fury and frustration to whatever time the original maneuver would have taken. And the child will scream.”
By some miracle, we managed to get out the door undetected. We made it to the crosswalk, in fact, before the door chimed and Stefan yelled, “Hey! Hey Jo!”
Why did he do this? What was left to say?
“It was good to see you,” he said, keeping eye contact. “And to meet you,” he finally said to Pea, tickling her feet.
Then I turned into Crazy Nanny, and did this creepy ventriloquist act with the baby: “Say ‘bye,’ Little Pea. ‘Bye bye.’”
Stefan came at me with wide-open arms again. He gave me a real hug, pulling me close and tight. I made an effort not to sniff him, and returned to the same pit of self-hatred for missing him.
While he fiddled with his bike, and I gently chided him for riding a bike with eleven burritos in tow, I began to feel the words coming. By the time he crossed the street and Pea and I strolled down a parallel street, I wondered if I could race to catch up with him. I wondered if he’d hear me if I screamed from where I stood.
What you did was AWFUL! You hurtme! God, you ripped me apart! I know there’s no good way, but yours was the worst way… Do you still fuck that girl? She should be having your goddamn children—maybe, just maybe, that would justify the way you flushed me out of your life. You hurt me! If you ever see me again, don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. And keep your damn hands off this baby! You HURT ME!! You KNOW I don’t need any more reasons to hate myself. You fucker. You goddamn asshole motherfucker.
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