dangle

chapter 5 - you're being weird

I remember the day I decided to keep Jackson.

My dad said he would love and support both of us.

Tate said, "Why?" and, "Are you sure?"

Kayleigh, my best friend since eighth grade, said, "You can't be serious. How will you ever find a boyfriend? Who's going to want to take on the burden of raising someone else's child?"

And when she saw the expression on my face, she actually tried to backpedal. As if you could take back calling someone's baby a burden.

We haven't spoken since.

That's not to say raising Jackson alone was easy. But it was the best thing I'd ever done. I may not have been able to give him much, or even half of what he deserved, but we appreciated everything we did have.

For instance, Jackson was so pumped when his new water table that he didn't even want to finish his episode of Paw Patrol. In his world, that says a lot. I found the toy on the local buy-and-sell page for $8. Since my car was out of commission—again—the seller even agreed to drop it off at my place. That was practically unheard of. Like winning the secondhand sweepstakes.

But then Jackson wanted to play with it inside. Bad idea. After mopping up the mess and praying there was no water damage in the kitchen, I dragged the water table outside onto our 'patio' and called Crystal to join us for some sun.

"I'm sorry again about Kyle," Crystal said. "I ripped him a new one for flaking out on you."

Our patio was just a couple of grey paving stones someone had placed on the grass outside my apartment long before I moved in. The stones were cracked and set out haphazardly, as if someone had laid them in a hurry. Objectively, it was nothing special, and it was kind of sad if you looked at it too closely. But in 101 degrees Fahrenheit, it was our tropical paradise.

We were sprawled out on old camping chairs, soaking up the sun in bikinis and drinking Frappuccinos. Beside us, Jackson was in his shark-print swim trunks and rashguard, splashing away with old cups and measuring spoons and living his best toddler life.

I waved her off. "It's fine." And I meant it. Kyle did me the favor of confirming what I already knew: men sucked, dating was a waste of time, and I was going to be single for the rest of my life.

"Did you meet the new person?" Crystal asked, rubbing in her coconut-scented suntan lotion and closing the bottle with a snap. She handed me the bottle. "The one Jerry suckered you into giving a tour to?"

"Yeah, I did." I smoothed the lotion onto my legs without looking up at her.

She pushed her oversized black sunglasses down on her nose, peering over at me. "And?"

"Seems okay." I shrugged, sitting back and taking a sip of my vanilla bean frap. I was walking that fine line between downing it too quickly and leaving it to melt in the sun. Starbucks was a once-a-season splurge for me and I was trying to savor it as long as humanly possible. Five-dollar coffee was hard to justify when you could barely make rent.