Page 9 of About That Night

I would love to date again. I just don’t know where to start, considering I’ve never actually dated in my life.

“You’ve lost your damn mind. But fine, don’t have sex with the man.” She waves her hand. “I can’t force you to have fun.”

I eye her. “This feels like a trap.”

She shrugs.

Still suspicious, I stand up and grab my purse. “Josiah! It’s time for your bath, sweetie. Bedtime.”

For once, he doesn’t protest or attempt to negotiate.

“Okay!” He just comes running over and right on past me into the house.

My heart squeezes again. I groan and put my hand on my chest. “He’s so grown up. When did this happen? Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight.”

“He’ll be asleep. And he’s going to grow, whether you like it or not. Go. We’ll be fine. And wear something other than your uniform or gray joggers. That’s all I ever see you in.”

That makes me laugh. She’s not wrong. That is all I ever wear. “Are you coming in?”

“No. I’m going to sit here and watch videos about how to clean car floor mats. They’re really relaxing.”

I wave and go off in search of my son. He’s already naked in the bathroom, ready for his shower. He knows he’s not allowed to turn the hot water on himself, so he’s bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, a plastic shark in his hand. This is one of my favorite parts of the day. I get to sit on the toilet seat and watch him play in the water. I squirt the shampoo into his hand and let him wash his hair. Sometimes he chatters away to me, sometimes to himself, but it’s relaxing for me to be still and just watch him and marvel at the amazing little human he is.

“Mama, look, the shark has my finger.” Josiah mimics being attacked by a shark.

“I’ll save you.” I pull the shower curtain back a little and pretend to wrestle his finger away from the shark.

“Thanks, Mama.” He gives me a goofy smile. “I love you. You’re the best mama.”

This kid is killing me tonight. “I love you, too, baby.”

At times like this, I actually feel sorry for Josiah’s biological father because he doesn’t know this perfect little boy even exists. I have no idea if his father is a good person or not, but I have to guess he can’t be totally rotten because there is no evidence of tainted DNA in my son. I was young and drunk, and so was he, and the sex was swift and terrible. That doesn’t mean he’s a bad person.

But I don’t even know his last name, so I have no way to track him down.

Someday, maybe Josiah will go on a genealogy site and we’ll find his biological father that way. I uploaded his DNA about a year ago, when I suddenly realized it was an obvious avenue to explore. I did it because I feel like every father has the right to know and make his own choices, but also for my son. If he could have a father, I want to give him that. But no one has matched to Josiah through the site.

In the meantime, all the responsibility and joy and fear and laughter belong to me.

I shouldn’t be meeting up with Hank. But if I’m going to, which I am, because I can’t seem to stop myself, I need to make it very clear that I can’t hook up with him.

I have to focus on the future. Making a fantastic life for my son.

Grabbing a towel, I hold my arms out for Josiah, who steps out and lets me wrap him up in the cotton. As I rub his hair dry, I have an off-the-wall idea.

Hank told me if I ever needed anything, to just ask.

I need his advice on how to date like an adult.

Not like a teenager, which was the last time I dated.

But as a grown woman, with a child.

Because I would like to date, now that I’m trying so hard to move on from survival mode and actually enjoy my life. I finally feel like I’m entitled to my own personal happiness, even if it’s just going out to dinner or the movies or taking a walk in the park with a man when I have a few free minutes.

But dating apps terrify me. How do I explain I want to date without immediately having sex? Do people just say that out loud? I know there are hookup apps, and there are apps that result in serious relationships, but I don’t know the first thing about reading the clues as to what a man is saying. Or what he might be thinking I’m saying based on whatever I’m saying.

I could use Hank’s perspective as a man.

---