Page 3 of Britain

“I know you do, my Annie Bananie. We’re just in time for story hour, and then we’ll go get your sissy from school.” This is one of my days that I babysit while Beth works. Annie and I either come here, the zoo, or to Chuck E. Fucking Cheese’s. Annie’s busy all of the time, and I try to find things that expel a lot of energy. I pull my seat forward for Annie to climb out of the back seat. “Hold my hand.”

I smile at the feel of her tiny hand sliding into mine. She hops as I walk us toward the door. See…lots of energy. Inside, we make our way up the stairs to the children’s room. There are kids everywhere, and parents too. We find a spot on the big colorful carpet that covers the entire floor. After sitting down and crossing my legs, I hold out my hands and Annie settles on my lap.

A woman in a colorful maxi halter dress comes out carrying an acoustic guitar. She reminds me of Phoebe Buffay from Friends. She smiles brightly at all of us and sits down on the tiny chair.

“Hello, all of my special friends. Is everyone ready to sing some songs?”

A chorus of little voices, including Annie’s, yell as the kids clap.

Song after song the lady sings, and with each passing minute I want to drive a stake into my ear. I’m in my own personal version of hell, but I can’t leave because Annie is having a wonderful time. When the woman finally finishes, I do a happy dance in my head and then take Annie to get her picture taken with her.

As we head back downstairs, she chatters happily about her favorite songs. We’re heading toward the door when I bump into someone walking toward us. “Um…I’m sorry.” I look up and up until I’m looking at the face of the guy from the coffee shop last week…FML.

He eyes me closely and then rolls them just like before. “You’re a mess,” he tells me before looking down at Annie, back at me, and walking away.

If my niece wasn’t with me right now, I’d give that asshole a piece of my mind. I’m not a mess—he’s just a big ol’ piece of crap. Fuck him and his stupid handsome face. Outside, I load Annie into my car, which she loves riding in. She says it purrs like a kitty. Of course that’s because she’s heard me talking about my baby like that.

I talk her out of McDonald’s and she agrees to Arby’s. After we eat, we head to the school to pick up Bridgette. While we wait, Annie plays on the gym equipment with other kids.

“Are you Bridgette’s mom?” I turn toward the voice. He’s tall and lean with blond hair. His eyes are covered by sunglasses and his arms are covered in colorful tattoos.

“Um, no, I’m not. I’m her aunt.”

He steps closer to me. “My daughter Kyra is her buddy. I’m Alex.” He holds out his hand to me.

I’m terrible at small talk, but still stick out my hand anyway. “I’m Britain.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.” I’m saved from further small talk when Annie yells for me to come watch her. “Um…well, I need to get to my niece. See you around.” I feel his eyes on me as I walk over to the playground equipment. I’d deny it if anyone ever asked, but it makes me feel good after the asshole from the coffee shop and then today at the library dismissed me like I was an ugly dog. I know I’m not ugly, but I’m just not desirable to the opposite sex. Most guys are intimidated by the fact that I know more about cars than they do. Of course, I don’t really give off the “flirt with me” vibe, either. Who would believe that a healthy twenty-four-year-old woman has never really been kissed and really has never dated? Beth’s tried encouraging me to date, too, but to be honest, the opposite sex scares me—well, all except my dad, brothers, and the guys from the shop, because they’ve all been in my life as long as I can remember.

My parents had me talk to a counselor when I was younger after the incident happened, and even though I was six, I remember every moment of therapy. Luckily Margaret was an amazing person to talk to, and to this day I still meet with her when the memories become too much to bear.

When I reach Annie, I look behind me and see Alex is still watching me. I give him a small smile and feel my cheeks heat up as he smiles back. Maybe once Bridgette is out I’ll ask for his number—start with baby steps. A phone call isn’t a big deal, and if that goes well, then maybe it’ll lead to a date. It’s time to start living my life before I wake up one day and it’s practically over.

A few minutes later, kids start spilling out of the school. Bridgette is tall for her age, so she’s easy to spot as she comes toward me in a full sprint. I catch her right before she slams into me. “Auntie Brit, I had a great day.”

I hug her tightly. “That’s great, sweetheart. I know how much you love school. When we get home, you’ll have to tell me what you learned.” Both girls hold my hands as we make our way to my car.

“Britain!” I turn at the sound of my name being called and find Alex, Kyra, and a little boy who looks just like his dad moving toward us. We stop and Bridgette runs toward her little friend—they hug each other. “The kids and I are going to Dairy Queen for some ice cream. Would you guys like to join us?”

I want to go…I don’t want to be afraid to take chances with guys. Fuck me, I’m turning into a sissy. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good. We’ll meet you there.”

We all walk in the same direction, and his truck is actually parked behind my car. I hear his whistle from behind me. “Is that a Chevelle?”

Here we go…as soon as I tell him I work on cars and rebuilt mine, he’ll run as fast as possible in the other direction just like everyone else. “Yep. I rebuilt it with my dad and brothers. I’ve always loved cars, and working on them. We all work together at my dad’s shop. Lancaster Family Automotive Center.”

“Wow…Impressive. I’m a bit of a gearhead myself. I work construction, but cars are my passion. I have a 1967 Chevy Impala hardtop. If you watch Supernatural, it’s like Sam and Dean’s car.”

I love that show, and I love the car more. “That’s awesome. It’s a beautiful ride.”

“Maybe I could bring it by your family’s shop and let you take a look at it?”

It’s nice that he suggests somewhere public, and he has no idea what a relief it is. He doesn’t seem to be turned off by my occupation and my love of cars. Even if nothing happens, which I’m certain it won’t, I can at least say I tried. I start to sweat and try to keep my face neutral instead of letting him see the panic on my face. “Sure, you just may have to call and see if I’m working.”

“Okay, awesome. We’ll meet you at DQ.” He walks by us and I watch him load up his kids into his truck before I do the same with my nieces. My palms sweat as we follow behind the huge red Ford F-150—typical dude truck. We pull into the parking lot of Dairy Queen. After both girls get out, they grab my hands and Kyra grabs Bridgette’s and we make our way inside.

Both girls order a vanilla cone dipped in chocolate and I order my Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Blizzard. We all sit outside with our frosty treats, and the girls attack their cones with vigor. “Are you into sports?” The question catches me off guard.

---