Page 15 of Just a Distraction

“It can’t be to reduce calories.”

Milo’s voice rings out behind me. I laugh and turn my head to give him a smile, but I don’t stop walking in the direction of Casa del Cibo. I shouldn’t slow down. I already said goodbye. Sort of.

If I leave now, maybe I can figure out something else to do to make the most of my birthday. But not with him. I can’t let myself feel any interest whatsoever in this man.

An uneasiness fills my stomach.

Some of my fight left me when I became a single mother. Again, no regrets. But it took me some time to get back to myself when I became a single mom so unceremoniously. I’d scored well on the nursing entrance exam and been awarded a scholarship at the University of North Carolina. North Carolinawas pie-in-the-sky exciting. I was going to leave my old life behind and gain a new one, promising Blaine we’d continue to date long distance. Then I discovered I was expecting Callum. UNC graciously let me defer, even holding my scholarship for me.

But to go to nursing school with a newborn the following fall? I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t imagine leaving Callum for so long each day. I didn’t have it in me. Part of me didn’t want to do something so rigorous when being Callum’s mom quickly shifted all my priorities.

My nephew T.J.’s death at the age of five from kidney failure was what changed my life goals. And having Callum didn’t change my desire to be a nurse. But I knew in my gut I needed to be the one to take care of him for his first year of life.

I want to spend every possible moment with him now, before I start school.

And now Milo’sJeopardy!music is in my head. Like it’s burrowed into my brain by a swarm of earwigs, all chirping the tune. Pretty soon my time will be up. I’ve already deferred twice. They’re not going to let me a third time.

This feeling of desperation was why I went for ice cream with my handsome customer. Call it a quick little fling, of sorts, to brighten up my life.

“It’s not to reduce calories, that’s for sure,” I respond.

He’s caught up with me now. Did I slow a little? Probably. Do I regret it? That remains to be seen.

“Good.” His eyes are playful. Everything about him is playful. “Because you don’t need to worry about what you look like.”

I keep walking, rolling my eyes. “If that was supposed to be a pickup line, I feel obligated to tell you that it sucked.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a pickup line.” He shoots out a nervous breath. “Not necessarily.”

We walk in silence. My feet hurt in my ugly lace-up waitressing shoes. And that baby in the ice cream shop was so adorable that my breastfeeding body responded the only way it knew how.

Milo’s got his hands jammed in his pockets. His pants and Henley are trendy. Expensive. I don’t know much about it since I don’t make it a habit to stalk brands I’ll never be able to afford, but I’m guessing it might have cost quadruple what my little get-up did. My too-tight, white button-down that’s pressing against my chest with red sauce on the sleeve—a common occurrence during a work shift. My little black skirt with a delightful dollop of Callum’s mashed sweet potatoes near the hem from when I fed him before I left for work.

I washed it off, of course, but I can still smell the distinct, almost cinnamon-like starchy odor.

The kid loves ‘em so that’s exactly what he gets.

What I’m trying to say is Milo and I are worlds apart. I’m the Maria to his Tony—if West Side Story took place in Manhattan and Tony owned the entire block of Maria’s West Side apartment complex.

Wait. I’ve chosen the wrong fairytale. We’re not Romeo and Juliet. We’re Cinderella. Except Cinderella can’t be with Prince Charming and she has a baby. And playing the role of her evil stepsisters? Her ex, Blaine, who playsbothof the stepsisters.

But all of that—allof that—is beside the point because Milo’s a pipe dream. All that Milo represents is a pipe dream. Love with some sexy man is only a tiny flicker of a possibility in about four years after I’ve finished school and am a full-fledged dialysis nurse and Callum’s in a very non-pretentious but excellent school playing his little five-year-old heart out on the soccer field. Or on the violin. Or looking at slides of insect guts in science class. Whatever he’s passionate about.

Because I am not my mom. Or my grandma, my aunts, or my sisters. I’d love to be like them in all ways except one.We Hawkinses are fertile, and we have a penchant for falling pregnant by looking twice at some cute guy.

Milo and I reach my car and here we are again. Stalling.

At least that’s what I’m doing. Because it’s my birthday. Because maybe the thought of going home feels lame and so much like what every day for the next several years is going to look like. Uber responsible. Uber careful and future-thinking. Not at all rash, or fun, or free.

Milo opens his mouth to finally say something, as if he knows my brain is a washing machine of thoughts and fears. As if my brain is saying,Dear heavens, please don’t let any rash decisions be the death knell on my nursing school dreams. Again.

But Milo’s interrupted by a shout behind us. “Rose? Why are you still here?”

It’s Blaine. And there’s a slight slur to his words.

Great.

I press my eyes shut for a moment, steeling myself.

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