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It’s long since dark outside, yet sleep is so far off base for me, so I wander. Walking along the streets of L.A. at night is just as bad as it is during the day except with a whole new crowd.
I don’t remember this until it’s too late, so instead, I head for the public park near my old home. I played there as a kid so many times and I’m happy to find something warm and welcoming, something to anchor me here. Except, when I arrive, it’s a new office complex.
Leaving my old neighborhood, I head south, track down the nearest suburb and find a park. That’s all I need. It may not be my park, but I’d like for it to be one I could forget in.
Hands shoved into the pockets of an oversized hoodie, I head along the pathway, toward a bench.
I’m too old to play on the playground now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.
I restrain the urge and keep myself curled up on the bench, phone dead in my pocket.
I don’t how long I sit there, eyes on the skyline above the houses nearby. The stars aren’t nearly as visible as I’d like this close to the city and I want to head home. To my home. To the apartment I rent in a small town in Pennsylvania.
Instead, I’m here.
I’m not traveled enough to be able to tell the time by the sun’s position so all I know is that it’s a little higher in the sky, just a tad bit brighter, when someone else appears on the sidewalk.
I don’t stop to ask for a name, simply sit and fiddle with my jacket sleeve. It’s not even a real jacket, because that wouldn’t work for me. Mom had insisted that I dress up and I was. A blazer was too tight over a black blouse and skinny jeans. The colour of mourning was required, even with my beanie.
I wanted to head to the airport, maybe go home now.
The figure, after a second, I decide on he, doesn’t step closer, but heads instead to the play area, maybe brave enough to do what I think I’m too old to consider.
At least that’s what I think he’s doing until two smaller shadows break off and run ahead of him. One is lanky, taller than the other, though not by much and it helps the other as they run toward the playground.
After a second, the figure makes toward a bench similar to my own before obviously spotting me.
He makes his way closer, passing through a lamplight that shows me wild curly hair that could be light brown or a reddish blonde. Tall and thin with a stern expression, a bandanna wrapped around his forehead.
It wasn’t long enough to get any actual view of him, but I see enough to know he’s definitely heading toward me.
He settles down on the bench beside me, not saying anything, the two shadows squealing as they played on the playground.
“Isn’t it a little late for kids to be out here?” I can’t stop myself from making the comment to a complete stranger.
“Here, I was thinking that it was perfect, because I’d avoid all the pedophiles out and about.” His remark is quickly delivered. “Guess I was wrong. I mean, unless there’s another reason you’re hanging out a children’s park at nine forty five.”
His accent takes me a second to place, but I manage to after a thought. “Long story. Why’re they still up? Are you being a terrible babysitter?”
“Not exactly. They tend to stay up late and I can never get them to go to sleep unless I take them out for a bit. The fresh air helps.”
I shrug, but keep my opinion to myself. He didn’t really answer my question.
“Daddy!” A little girl’s voice shrieks and he stands immediately, following the call. I hear a laugh I could live on and find myself smiling too, though I bury it before he comes back. And he does, a minute or so later.
“So, since we’ve decided you’re not a pedophile after my children, c’mon. Let’s play.” His grin is crooked and I don’t comment on the strange wording of his offer.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m a little big for something like this.” His answering grin shows dimples that I have the sudden urge to touch.
Of course doing so is out of the question so I tuck my hands under my legs.
“Never too big, believe me. C’mon.” He ignores all social procedure to step forward and wrap an oversized hand around mine, pulling me along with him.
And I let him.
As we approach the playground and I’m out of the direct light from the streetlamp, the two shadows slowly take shape, wreathing around the playground.
“Still say we’re too big.” I point out.
The kid closest to me, a young boy with his father’s wild hair grins. “He’s done worse with his mates. There’s video proof, believe me.”
The little girl giggles and her dimples are almost as deep as her fathers. Beside me, he releases my hand and scratches the back of his neck.
“C’mon let’s play.” She pipes up and steps forward, grabbing my hand and dragging me along behind her. I don’t fight, figuring it must run in the family.
“Where?”
“Slides…” She giggles again and I melt at the dimples, following her, forcing the reason I was here to the back of my mind.
Behind me, as we slowly make our way up a rock wall toward the top of the slides, I can hear the little boy. “What’s your new friend’s name, Dad?”
Following it is only silence.
“Really?”
“Slides.” She reminds, pulling me away from the conversation behind me and I go one with it, deciding that just forgetting for a little while will be great.
Both of them are yawning a half hour later and Ashton – he offers his name moments after his son points out his mistake – bids me goodnight without asking me for my number. I’m disappointed for a few seconds before his son turns around and asks for me to come home with them, just for a bit so that I don’t have to be alone in the park.
Before I can say no, there’s a little girl’s hand wrapped around two of my fingers and her dad’s eyes are pleading and I’m nodding before I can think twice.
I make a move to walk back behind them, following along, but Ashton curls his hand around mine and doesn’t leave the option open.
All three of them lead me to a small two story suburban house, just down the street from the park. The kids both kiss their dad goodnight and head upstairs, the little girl waving, his son wishing me good luck.
“C’mon. We’ll watch a movie.” He motions me toward a couch, though veering off course long enough to grab two beers from the kitchen.
I don’t know what movie he starts playing because I’m focused solely on our conversation. “So you never did tell me why you were at the park after dark when you don’t live around here and, from what I can tell, you don’t have kids.”
“In my defense, you don’t sound like you’re from around her either.” I point out, trying to smother the sudden reminder of why I’m back in L.A.
“Mine first.”
“I had to get away. I’m only visiting, though I grew up two miles east of here in a similar suburb, though it’s been replaced.”
“Get away from what?” His voice is tentative, though still curious.
I can’t help the grimace that twists my lips, glancing down. After a sip of my beer, I shed my blazer.
My beanie is in my fist when I arch my eyebrow. “Can’t you tell?” There are a pair of black Vans by the front door, ones I only bring out for special occasions because, though I currently have it covered up, I got it signed in a silver sharpie by my favorite band a while back.
His face says realization, so I know he gets it. Funeral. The next question is obvious. For who? Husband? Boyfriend? Kid? Father.
Instead, he winces and nods. “Forget that. My turn. Yeah, not from around here. Drummer. We traveled a lot. Until I met a girl. Blonde hair, blue eyed, gorgeous. She was perfect. She had the two you met earlier. Died in a car accident two weeks before our little girl’s first birthday.”
He shakes his head on the apology on my lips. “No. It was almost peaceful for her and I know she was happy. Besides, I’ve had eleven years to get over it.”
“Eleven? So you’re oldest is…?”
“Thirteen.”
“Damn. “
“I know, he’s growin’ fast too.”
And it goes on.
The movie’s credits are rolling before I realize what’s happening and I’ve already finished two beers and know as much as I’m going to know about Ashton.
He knows everything.
I’m still waiting for him to tell me it’s time to go, but when I decide to take matters into my own hands and leave, there’s a hand on my waist, stopping me.
“Are you telling me you’re ready to go put up with your mom for another day before getting onto some second class flight to a town you dread and a job you hate? You sure?”
I laugh, the alcohol buzzing through my bloodstream. “What are you saying? That I should stay longer?” I snort, going to pull my hand back.
“Yes.”
My eyes go wide and I freeze. “What?” I meet his gaze, waiting for a sarcastic smile.
“Stay.” His voice is steady and solid and ready to go.
“Uh..” I trail off, considering my options. Under the light he’s put them in, I only really have one choice. “Okay.”
And then his mouth is on mine and there’s a bare palm pressed to the middle of my back. Our shirts make it to the floor before we head to his bedroom, the only one downstairs.
I wake up in the morning, smelling strange cologne and with a warm chest pressed to my back. There’s an arm thrown over my waist and a leg is twined between my own. For an instant, I’m comfortable before I see my beanie on the pillow beside me, the last thing he took off, and I realize he’d drunk almost three times as much as I had.
I start to slide from his grip, hoping to get out and away before he gets up, but he’s nuzzling closer, nose pressed against the pulse point beneath my ear.
“If you’re wiggling anywhere this morning, it better be toward me.”
“I thought…” I trailed off. He didn’t sound asleep. He sounded satisfied, though far from sated.
“We have until they wake up.. shh. They feed on chances to ruin romance.”
That’s not what this is, but I don’t say that bit out loud. Not when there’s a hope blooming in the hollow space in my chest.
“You’re wiggling again.” He murmurs, nipping at the skin of my shoulder and I gasp, realizing too late that I’m subconsciously reaching for the leg of my skinny jeans I can just feel on the bed beside my hip.
Ashton reaches around me and pushes it onto the floor.
“You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”