Page 25 of Blue Lines and Lullabies

Gabe: Yuck someone’s yum? That’s new.

Me: It’s like making fun of someone and telling them they’re wrong for liking a specific sports team. We’re all allowed to like what we like.

Gabe: Within reason.

Me: Yes.

Gabe: You’re not into some weird shit, are you? Like reading about people getting fucked by horses, or a tentacled man drilling all your holes at the same time?

Me: Boy. You did some weird Googling, didn’t you?

Gabe: I did.

Me: No, I’m not into that kind of stuff. I like regular romance, where the guy sweeps her off her feet, and they feel like their connection is special. Like they weren’t fully complete until that other person came into their lives.

I’m a little nervous when Gabe doesn’t respond for quite some time after my last text. I don’t know if it got too close to his game time, if he fell asleep, or if he chose not to respond, and I’m frankly too much of a chicken-shit to blatantly ask him why he didn’t reply.

What worries me, however, is that I’m not entirely sure if I’m scared Gabe might tell me sleeping together was a mistake because he doesn’t feel a connection with me … or if he’ll tell me that hedidfeel something.

I know I may have freaked out immediately after and hightailed it up to my room to cower. It’s possible that I realized I’m nowhere near the extroverted person that Gabe met in the hotel, and I’m worried he’ll be less attracted to me when he realizes I’m one heck of an introvert. My idea of a fun Friday night is a trip to a bookstore and then reading by a fire. I’m not interested in clubs or parties. I’m very content in my own little bubble, thank you.

But whatever is happening — or happened — with Gabe suddenly makes me take stock of my life. I’m thirty years old. I left Oregon because I was working a job I hated for a large daycare in a massive corporation. I love working with kids, but my four-year early childhood education degree hasn’t been highly sought after. Whenever I was offered a job, the pay would usually be close to minimum wage. The Pacific Northwest is absurdly expensive. All three of my brothers have often offered me loans, but I don’t take handouts. I never have. Our parents taught us to make our own way. So, instead of asking anyone for money, I decided a complete life change was needed. Colorado has slightly cheaper housing and day-to-day expenses. As soon as Grant was traded here, I knew I wanted to follow him. The state calls to me.

Certainly didn’t see life evolving the way it has since I moved here though.

When Gabe doesn’t text me the following day, I get concerned. I found highlights of his game through Google, so I at least know he’s alive. But then Levi texts me and asks how Kenzie is, and I get pissed.

Levi: Any new pictures today?

Me: (see attachment)

Levi: I swear she’s grown since we left.

Me: I think so. She almost smiled at me today, too. But it might have just been gas.

Levi: One of my sisters used to always do that. It’s about time for Kenzie to start smiling, though. The average is one to two months.

Me: It’s weird how much you know about babies.

Levi: I’m the oldest of a gazillion siblings, and I helped my mom a lot. Plus, I just like kids.

Levi: Has Kenz still been spitting up?

Levi: How’s tummy time going?

Levi: Did you take her to her four-week well-child appointment? What did the pediatrician say?

Motherfucker.

Me: Levi.

Levi: What?

Me: Tell Gabe if he wants to know these things, he can FUCKING TEXT OR CALL ME HIMSELF.

Levi: Busted.

Me: Don’t text me again.

---