Defend

“Everything’s closed, Brent.”

“Not the grocery store. Want to come? You can tell me about your weird day.”

Yeah, I don’t know about that. Sure, I’ll have to tell him if things reach a certain point, but I don’t know if today is the day. I haven’t ever had to tell but one other guy before. It was my last serious relationship, and he broke up with me a day later. I’m not saying Brent will do the same or that I think he will, but the past definitely makes a girl hesitant in the present.

“Jamie?”

I refocus on Brent. “Yeah, ice cream sounds great.”

He smiles, takes my hand, and leads me to his truck, which is parked in the space behind my car. Once we’re both inside, he asks, “Want to talk about your weird day?”

“It’s kind of complicated and really personal.”

I’m not sure what I expect him to say, but I love his response.

“Sounds like you really need ice cream then.” A second later, he asks, “Do you have a favorite flavor?”

“If it has cookie dough in it, it’s automatically better than the rest.”

When we get to the grocery store, he goes inside and returns a few minutes later with two pints of ice cream and a box of plastic spoons. He hands me mine, which of course has cookie dough in it, and pulls out one that is chocolate with chocolate chunks for him. Next, he hands me a spoon and we’re ready to dig in.

“I know you’re not an excessive talker, but you do normally talk more than this,” he says after a minute of silence.

“So do you,” I point out.

“Maybe, but I’m worried about you, so I’m preoccupied with that. Just give me something.”

I eat another spoonful of ice cream to buy time before I have to speak. I don’t want to have this conversation today. That I do know. “What are you doing after this?” I wave my ice cream in the air. “Going home?”

Brent looks guilty for half a second. “Actually, I was thinking about going back to the shop. I’m not all that tired and I went home at six like a normal person, but now I’m bored and antsy.”

“Can I go with you? Just to hang out?”

His eyebrows raise in surprise, but he nods. “You’ll probably be bored.”

“I’ll be okay.” Being with him, talking or not talking, is better than being on campus.

We put away our ice cream and Brent takes me back to my car. I follow him to his shop, feeling better already. Brent works on some vehicle while I sit in a chair nearby. While I might feel better, I’m still thinking about kids. But not really mine.

“Did you ever know or have this idea that you’d be a father one day?” I ask.

Brent pauses and looks up at me for a solid ten seconds before returning to his work. “I had no clue what I wanted until I held my little girl in my arms for the first time. That’s when it was the realest for me and it hit me that I truly wanted that kind of life where I was her father. Everything before that was scary and full of nerves. I could picture it once I had her in my arms, though.”

This confirms that it’s not crazy at all for me to be unable to picture myself as a mother or to have a child as my own. It shouldn’t feel crazy, though, right? Plenty of women go through life without having kids because they don’t want to be a mother. I just wish I felt more confident in the way I felt. It would be a lot easier to do if I knew my family had my back.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. What are you working on?”

I breathe a little easier as he talks about car parts I didn’t know existed and rambles on and on. When he takes a break, I escape to the fridge to grab my ice cream from earlier and decide to venture into his office to lie on his couch while I enjoy my favorite flavor. Coming here was definitely a good idea. My feelings just need to disappear pretty quickly because the less I think about this, the better.

My hand jerks at the sensation of something sliding through my fingers. My eyes open and I realize I fell asleep on Brent’s couch with the pint of now-melted ice cream in my hand. Brent sets the ice cream on his desk and faces me.

“It’s pretty late.” A sheepish look affects his small smile.

“How late?”

“Almost four. I got carried away. Normally, I’d just sleep here until morning instead of driving home.” He points to the couch. “You—”