Starting From Scratch (13 page)

Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. I was so used to

seeing his expression fall in disappointment when he

understood that Cindy was paying no attention whatsoever

to him that I actually did a double take when he beamed.

Elena’s support was all he needed. He hit the crap out

of the ball.

“Run!” I yelled to him when he turned to grin hugely

at his mother. “Run to first!”

“Oh, yeah,” he responded, running toward first base,

taking the bat with him.

Maddie shook her head with a knowing grin, and I

shrugged as I met her eyes. Who knew the hardest lesson

to teach about baseball was which direction to run and

when? Training the players to drop the bat after a hit was

next to impossible.

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Surprisingly, we ended up winning the game (not that

I was keeping score or anything). As usual, by the end of

things, the kids’ attention spans had reached their limits

and they were all over the place. Katie found a patch of

dandelions that apparently needed her tending. Jordan was

lying down in the dust near the equipment. Mikey

bounced up and down on his toes, holding his crotch.

With a jerk of my chin, I sent him scurrying to his dad, as

I had no intention of cleaning up little boy pee.

Players and parents alike from both teams mingled

and mixed as some of us gathered equipment, answered

questions, congratulated kids, and gave pointers when

asked. at time after the game was almost as exhausting

as during it.

e crowd began to thin as I reached the bench and

collected the remaining bits of our stuff.

“Did you see me, Mom? Did you? Did you see me?”

Max’s excitement was palpable as he danced around

next to me and watched Elena approach. I busied myself

with tee balls and the canvas bag.

“I did,” Elena answered. “I saw.”

“I hit the ball. I hit it hard!”

“Yes, you did.”

“I hit it hard, Coach.” He looked up at me, his eyes big

and wide, his pride swelling his little chest.

“Just like we’ve been working on,” I said with a nod.

“You did good, buddy.”

His grin was enormous as he turned it on his mother.

Six-year-olds were so easy, I thought, bringing my eyes up

to Elena’s. e white shirt she had on only accentuated the

deep olive tone of her skin and I thought it odd that at

that moment, the thing I noticed most was how smooth

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she looked. I wanted to touch her cheek, her forearm, her

collarbone. It was an odd sensation. And oddly arousing.

“Avery…” Elena started, then stopped, pressing her

lips together in what seemed to be uncertainty.

I absently wondered if it was wrong that I loved the

way she said my name.

“Avery!” Maddie’s voice came from behind me,

snapping me into reality with a jerk as if she’d whipped

me, and I hoped the gritting of my teeth wasn’t too

obvious, as it felt like I might crack a molar.

“Never mind,” Elena said hurriedly, waving away

whatever she’d been about to say.

“No, wait,” I pleaded, barely keeping myself from

grabbing at her as she backed away.

“It’s okay,” she assured me and I felt Maddie come up

behind me. “It can wait.”

“Hey,” Maddie said as I watched Elena walk away and

tried not to launch into a Lucille Ball whine.

“What?” I snapped, whipping my head around to glare

at Maddie. e good thing about close friends was that

you could bite their heads off for no apparent reason and

they’d still love you the next day.

She held her hands up like a robbery victim. “Whoa.

Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget to grab

the clipboard.” She gestured with her eyes to said item that

was sitting on the bench.

“e clipboard.”

“Yeah.”

I poked the inside of my cheek with my tongue as I

worked hard to keep myself from throttling her then and

there. I scanned the parking lot in time to see Elena pull

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the door of her Accord shut and drive away. Still poking, I

picked up the clipboard and thrust it at Maddie.

“Here you go.”

“anks,” she said, squinting at me, but evidently

aware that opening her mouth at that point might prove

detrimental to her health.

She knew me well.

1

ere was nothing quite like peace, quiet, and solitude

for me. I lived for it. e ideal evening in my opinion,

consisted of a good book, a good glass of wine, and a good

chair. at night, George Winston joined me and I basked

in the rich, smooth, emotional sound of his piano

emanating softly from the stereo speakers. It was blissful

and I sank into my reading chair as if it were made of

marshmallow.

e phone rang. I picked it up without peeling my

eyes from the page I was on.

“Hi there, sexy,” Lauren asked. “Why are you home on

a Saturday night?”

I managed to keep myself from replying truthfully and

saying I had no better offers and I was trying desperately

to stay off my e-mail account so I didn’t get sucked into

another Let’s Bash the Republicans discussion with

LilMinx. Plus, all three women were starting to talk about

exchanging photographs (I got the impression they were as

nervous about it as I was) and I was avoiding that subject

as well. It was alarmingly hard to stay away, though,

something that had me a little freaked.

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Ignore it all; shove my nose in a book. at’s how I

dealt with many difficult issues in life. Hey, it seemed to

work the majority of the time.

“My pumpkin-shaped coach is in the shop,” I told

Lauren instead, and she giggled.

“And your glass slippers are being polished?”

“Exactly. What’s up?” As always, I only had to get

Lauren started and she’d take off from there. Surprisingly, I

actually found the sound of her voice to be comforting that

night. I wasn’t sure if I’d been feeling lonely and didn’t

realize it or what, but I actually put my book aside and

paid attention to what she was saying, which I didn’t

always do. I even actively participated—when I could get a

word in edgewise.

“I do have some news,” she said after fifteen or twenty

minutes of chatting.

“Because all the other stuff you just told me isn’t

news?” I teased.

“Not big news,” she said, and I could sense the

tentative excitement in her voice. It had me curious.

“Tell me.”

She took a deep breath; I could hear it through the

handset. “I’m going to be inseminated.” She blurted it out

so quickly that it took my brain several seconds to

comprehend the words.

“Insem—you’re going to have a baby?” I sat there

blinking in shock.

Lauren laughed the sweet, joyful laugh of a truly

happy person. “Well, not yet, silly. But my mom and I have

been talking about it for a few months now. She knows

how much I want to have a baby and we all know I’m not

getting any younger. Tick tock and all that.”

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“irty-five is far from old, Lauren,” I said, still

absorbing.

“In terms of baby-making, it’s up there. Anyway, my

mom has agreed to help me so I don’t feel like I have to

wait for the right person to come along.”

“Uh huh.”

“Of course, I
would
wait for you, you know.” Her voice

got softer and my red flags started springing up all over the

place. “We were pretty good together. You remember.”

I was not going to take that bait, and I felt cornered, a

feeling with which Lauren was a master at supplying me. I

didn’t want kids (more accurately, I didn’t want kids with

her
, but I didn’t stress that caveat, of course). I’d made it

perfectly clear to her from the beginning, but she was sure

she’d be able to change my mind. ere were dozens of

reasons why we didn’t work out as a couple, but I clung to

that one, knowing it was the best way to get her to let go. I

wasn’t proud of the deception, and I suspected she still had

some residual anger about it, but I couldn’t change that

now. As I sat there, a shred of me wondered what it would

feel like to be celebrating this decision with her.

“Avery?” Her voice poked me back to the present. “Did

you hear what I said?”

“You sound very happy, Lauren. I’m glad.” I waited

with my lip held tightly between my teeth until she sighed

loudly, a classic sign of her annoyance. en she let it drop,

though I suspected it would be revisited and I was already

cataloging in my head ways of avoiding her calls in the

future.

“So, Mom and I have narrowed it down to two donors

and now it’s just a matter of waiting for me to ovulate.”

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“Wow.” I scratched absently at Steve’s head as he

lounged on the ottoman by my legs. “I just…that’s…wow.”

“I know. Pretty amazing, huh?”

“Well, I was going to ask you if you were sure, but you

sound so great, I think the answer is pretty clear.”

“I’m ecstatic. is is what I want. It’s what I’ve always

wanted. You know that. With my mom’s help through the

pregnancy and in the baby’s first few months, I’ll be fine.”

“at’s great, Lauren. I’m really, really happy for you.”

I was repeating myself, but I thought flattery was the best

way to go, given the situation. “You’re going to make a

great mom.”

“You really think so?”

I reminded myself to tread carefully. ere were way

too many pitfalls where Lauren was concerned. I didn’t

want to seem too aloof (and come across as a cold-hearted

bitch), but I also didn’t want to seem too into the whole

baby thing (and risk her latching on to me again, which

was apparently a more realistic danger than I’d thought). It

was a fine line to walk, but somehow I managed. “I do.”

“anks, Avery.”

We chatted for a few more minutes before bidding

each other goodnight. I sat alone in the quiet, George

having finished up halfway through my phone

conversation.

I felt weird; I had no other words.

Josh was going to be a daddy. Lauren was going to be

a mommy. Max was at my house every other day and I was

coaching a team of youngsters. I was suddenly surrounded

by children or the idea of children and there was no other

word to describe it.

I felt weird.

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And on top of that—or because of that, I wasn’t sure

which—I felt lonely. Longingly, achingly lonely. It hit all at

once and caught me off-guard. And I didn’t like it.

I jumped out of my chair. Maybe chatting with one of

my “interested parties” would help me deal with this

unfamiliar territory I found myself navigating.

When I got signed in, I was happy to see that both

Pinot72 and DrCutie had been online. ey’d each sent a

note a little earlier, checking whether I was around. I

whipped two notes off quickly and clicked Send,

wondering if I was too late for either of them. e gentle

ping
sounded a minute later.

Pinot72: I was wondering if you’d be around.

BttyCrokr: What else would I possibly have to do on a

Saturday night besides sit in front of my computer? ;-)

Pinot72: I guess we’re equally exciting, huh?

BttyCrokr: I can hardly stand myself, I’m so giddy.

What are you doing?

Pinot72: I was reading, and now I’m just relaxing and

enjoying the quiet. I don’t get it very often, but I love the

quiet.

BttyCrokr: Me, too. I can be easily over-stimulated

and finding some quiet space helps me get back to feeling

like myself.

Pinot72: Makes sense to me.

BttyCrokr: And are you having wine with your

relaxation?

Pinot72: e wine IS my relaxation! LOL! You know

me too well already.

BttyCrokr: It just didn’t seem right that you’d be

reading on a quiet evening and NOT have a glass of wine.

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Pinot72: Glass? Who said anything about a glass? I

just swig right from the bottle.

BttyCrokr: Certainly saves wear and tear on the

dishwasher.

Pinot72:  at it does. (You do know I’m kidding,

right?)

BttyCrokr: You don’t really have a dishwasher?

Pinot72: LOL! I’m not swigging from the bottle.

BttyCrokr: Too bad. ;-)

Pinot72: I do love my wine, but I draw the line at

finishing a bottle all on my own. ere has to be at least

half a glass left in the bottom when I’m done.

BttyCrokr: LOL! Sounds reasonable.

Pinot72: What were you reading?

BttyCrokr: Ummm……Nora Roberts’

latest.

Pinot72: Why are you grimacing? Isn’t it any good?

BttyCrokr: No, it’s actually great. I’m really enjoying

it. I just…I don’t know…it seems like the proper thing to

do when you tell somebody you’re reading a romance novel

is look embarrassed.

Pinot72: I totally disagree. I think romance gets a bad