Time Will Tell

Noah asked me to go to Starbucks with him.

What does that mean? I go from being the babysitter he didn’t want in the first place to the girl he asks on maybe-date? But, I mean, is this even a date? I have no fucking idea right now! We’re sitting at a small round table, just looking at eachother.

He seems nervous, which makes me think date, and he paid for my frappucino, which makes me think date, and he’s doing all of these other little things that just make me think DATE, but for some reason I just can’t be positive that’s what this is.

I want to scream.

“So…” I start, hoping he’ll say something to help me decipher if this is a friendly outing or a more than friendly first date.

He opens his mouth to say something and then stops and runs a hand through his hair, sighing.

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking pleadingly up at me. “I haven’t done this in a while – you know… the friend thing. I can’t seem to think of anything to say that doesn’t involve Blue’s Clues or Dora the Explorer.”

I laugh but my heart sinks a little – not a date.

It’s kind of a silly thing to hope for anyway. He’s in college, and he has a baby, and a job, and he really doesn’t need me adding to his stress. Besides, for all I know he could be madly in love with some college girl who’s even better with Grace than I am.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m pretty up to date on the latest baby shows.”

“I didn’t think it would be this hard to talk about anything other than diapers and bottles, and I even prayed for a chance to talk about anything but those things and now I can’t think of anything else.”

I smile at him. “Well, we could talk about you – last time we talked about me, so it’s your turn.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks me.

Everything.

“Whatever you want me to know,” I say shrugging. “You could start at the beginning, or the middle, or wherever you want.”

He nods. “Alright,” he sighs. “I’ll start with Celeste.” He paused.

“Who is Celeste?” I ask, hoping to encourage him to continue.

“Celeste is Grace’s mother,” he answers me, looking me right in the eye. “I didn’t even know she was pregnant. One day everything was fine and the next she was just gone. I thought she’d gotten tired of me and just left. She didn’t answer her phone, no one knew where she was and all of her things were gone, so what else would I think? And then nine months later in the middle of the night someone starts banging on my door, so I get my bat, thinking that with the neighborhood I was in it was just some drunk kid, but when I open the door there’s a baby.”

“She just left her?” I ask incredulously. How could someone do that?

“Yep,” he says sadly. “But that’s Celeste for you. She’s not letting anyone ‘steal her youth,’ not even her own child – at least that’s what she wrote in her note. She basically said everything was my fault, she didn’t consider Grace her daughter, I could do whatever the hell I wanted to with her because she was my responsibility now, and that she was gone for good.”

I just gawked at him, shocked. “That’s awful!” I finally said. “How could she just turn your life upside down like that?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It was the last thing I expected. Everything changed after that night – she became my first priority, which meant school became my first priority, so I can find a way to provide for her. And friends… I don’t really have many friends anymore. I haven’t gone on a date, or even really been interested in anyone in almost two years. I have basically no social life, and my brain has been in constant baby mode for so long I don’t even remember how to talk to a pretty girl.”

The way he says that makes it seem like he hasn’t been interested in anyone until now and that I’m the pretty girl he doesn’t know how to talk to.

I play it off like I don’t think it’s me he’s talking about though – I don’t know for sure he’s talking about me anyway.

“I take offense to that,” I grumble.

He looks at me, surprised. “Offense to what? What did I do?”

“You don’t know how to talk to a pretty girl,” I say. “And you’re talking to me just fine. It’s obvious –”

“No!” he interrupts me. “I didn’t mean it like that. Actually, I thought I was being extremely awkward, and that I was boring you with my life story.”

I laugh. “You’re not very smooth. If you’re ever going to get a date you’re going to have to work on that,” I tease.

“I know how to be smooth,” he defends, laughing with me. There’s a spark in his eyes I haven’t seen before. “I’m just – I’m just out of practice.”

“Excuses, excuses,” I sigh, feigning disappointment.

“I know how to be smooth,” he disagrees.

“Sure you do,” I say sarcastically – I think he likes when I tease him.

“I do!” he laughs. “Let me prove it to you,” he says now, the tone of his voice catching me off guard – his voice is deep and husky, and it sends shivers up my spine. When I glance up at his face I see that he’s completely serious, and his eyes are burning into mine and I can practically feel how desperately he wants this. I’m mesmerized.

“Alright,” I find myself saying. “You’re on.”