“I won’t do that again. I just . . . I wasn’t sure if you were having company.”
He straightened up and looked at me with a grin.
“It’s fine.” He backed up into the house. “We can talk about it inside—”
“No,” I said.
“No?”
“Look, you told me to come here, to come see you when I was ready.”
“Yes, and . . .” A. J. moved back a little more, using his hand to direct me into the house.
“No, that’s not why I’m here,” I said. “I’m here to apologize for standing you up and to tell you that I’m not ready. And I don’t know when and if I ever will be. I know that sounds a little crazy with everything that’s happened. But I’m a long way from starting anything. I have a lot on my plate. And you; for a minute, you were a bright and promising thing for me. You reminded me that I’m beautiful. That I’m worth chasing. And I’ll forever be grateful to you for that. You’re an amazing example of a man. And when and if I’m ever ready for what you’re ready for, I pray that some amazing example of a woman wasn’t ready first.”
A. J. came down one step and was nose to nose with me.
“Well, I accept your apology and I respect you sharing all of this with me, but you came all the way over here at eleven o’clock to tell me you’re not ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
“You know this is officially booty-call hour? Especially if I have on nightclothes.”
We looked at his night pants.
“Well, I’m fully clothed,” I said.
He took a deep breath.
“What am I going to do with you?” A. J. said. He kissed me softly on the forehead. “Why don’t you come in and just chill for a while?” he asked. “I can’t have a young lady out on the roads this late at night, now.”
I laughed at him. It was such a line. A bad line.
“What?” he asked, faking surprise. “I’m not trying anything. I’m just being nice. A good, upstanding guy. You just said I’m a ‘great example of a man.’ ”
“I don’t sound like that!” I protested his mocking nasal voice.
“Yes, you do!” he said, laughing. “Look, why don’t you just come in and relax. No pressure. We can make macaroni and cheese!”
“It’s too late to make macaroni and cheese,” I said.
“Not if you want to eat it at sunrise.”
“No funny stuff?” I asked.
“Not if you grate the cheese!”
He put his hand out to me and I took it.
I saw the curtain in the living room window moving when I pulled into my mother’s driveway. There was a little brown hand against the glass. It disappeared when I stopped the car.
I got out and trudged up the walkway with the keys in my hand, ready to open the front door.
The sun was rising, but our Indian Summer was wrapping up and the cold blew right through my clothes. I felt a chill and hustled to the door, but right when I got to the steps, I stopped and turned around to look at the street.
It was so quiet out there and nothing was moving. It looked like a picture. Houses and cars. Trees and fences. Flowers. Grass. I unfolded my arms from a protective embrace over my chest and inhaled the crisp morning air. I felt a rush vibrate through my body and thanked God that I was there to feel the world. To see it. And in my clear mind, I imagined that it was fresh and new and I was the first person to pull it all in. It was the start of a new day. It was my start of a new life.
“God,” I said. “Thanks for helping me.”