Page 19 of A Me and Him Thing
“I thought your children were seven and nine?”
“The worry doesn’t end just because they get older. It only magnifies.”
While his words are spoken comically, I sense an underlying seriousness. I suspect he’s a bit of a worrier but hides it well.
I never would’ve guessed. But then, I’m only just starting to get to know him. He doesn’t strike me as the type of man who worries about bookshelves falling over. He seems like the kind of man who will eat gobs of sugary cereal with his kids on a Saturday morning. And enjoy it. Maybe it was even the best part of his day.
Ren stares into the distance, and I see a different side of him for a brief moment. An intensely serious side. It piques my curiosity.
He’s not perfect. I’ve discovered a dent in his personality. Thank goodness. Now I know he’s human, just like me.
I love that he’s protective of his children. It’s a trait I look for in a man. He’s already shown concern for me as well. It makes me feel, well, safe.
I decide to share a personal story with him. “A friend of mine used to invite me to the beachside town of Lincoln City every summer,” I tell him. “There are signs posted before you enter the beach, warning beach-goers to watch out for logs that can come in with the waves. Trees sometimes fall into the ocean from the mountainous coastline. Sometimes they wash ashore unexpectedly in waves. It’s a really dangerous situation, and people have actually been killed from being hit by the logs.”
Ren sits very still and doesn’t respond. I can tell he’s tense.
“My friend’s mother, armed with this knowledge, absolutely could not relax when she took us to the beach. She was always sure a log was going to wash ashore any minute and hit us. She would constantly tell us ‘Watch out for logs.’ As if saying it would prevent it from happening. I don’t know why she kept taking us there every summer. There’s no way she enjoyed it. Her nerves were shot at the end of every excursion. You can’t live like that, you know?”
“No, you can’t.” He breathes in and out deeply. “Will you remind me?”
I crinkle my nose. “Remind you of what?”
“When I’m being ridiculous.”
“You’re not actually being ridiculous. Only sort of.” Not at all, really. “I mean, you have valid points. Besides, what would you have me say?”
“‘Watch out for logs’ will work. I’ll know what you mean, and it’ll knock some sense into me.”
I’m distracted by the suave sound of his voice even during this conversation. “Are you being serious right now?” I’m notfamiliar with this side of him. Then again, I just met him, I’m not familiar with any of his sides.
“Why not? Sometimes I need someone to remind me to live life.”
He does? This man has many layers. I’m looking forward to learning about each and every one of them. As we becomefriends.
“I never worried about those types of things with Josie and Jordyn. If I put my mind to it, I can think of a million ways they could’ve been hurt while I was caring for them. One wrong step on the stairs could’ve sent them barreling downward. One accidentally unlocked backyard gate and they could’ve been lost forever. Had I let them, the what-ifs would’ve driven me crazy, and I would’ve been paralyzed with fear. Short of wrapping them up in bubble wrap, those thoughts are pointless.”
He turns to look at me. “Hmm. Bubble wrap sounds good. I hadn’t thought of it until now. Good idea. I’ll pick some up today.”
The serious moment is over. “No, you won’t.”
“I might.”
“I won’t let you.” It’s me who turns the conversation serious again. “I saw a quote the other day by an author named John Shedd. It went something like ‘A ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.’”
Ren jumps to his feet as though he wants to shake off the serious mood. He holds his hand out to me. “C’mon, let’s go out to sea together.”
I take his hand as we laugh lightly. I don’t know why we’re laughing. I suppose at ourselves and all the things that make us human.
“With life vests,” Ren adds as we stroll down a path.
And I tell him, “Ren, watch out for logs, or you’ll miss The Dance.”
“Was that a reference to Garth Brooks?” he asks.
He gets me. “Yes, that Dance.”
Chapter Five
