And even though I'd seen him at lunchtime, he was still a treat to see. His suit was more wrinkled than usual, but he still smelled great and looked even better.
But Rob was right there as I answered the door, so I did not launch myself at my hottie.
"Hey, come on in," is what I said instead, being cool in front of my kid.
Jake looked tired, but perked up once he walked in. "It smells so good in here." I was amused. It was like it was the 1950s-the way to a man's heart . . . But I didn't care. I wanted to take care of him. He didn't have anyone looking out for him.
He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I'm assuming no PDA in front of your son, right?"
"I'd appreciate that," I whispered back.
"Well, consider the thought," he continued quietly. "I want to kiss your adorable nose."
For some reason this made me blush. He touched my cheek and then called, in a louder voice, "Hey Rob, can we put it in two player?" Then he took off his jacket, loosened his tie, and walked over to Rob, who was sitting on the floor. Jake joined him, wearing his tie and suit pants, and began to play Minecraft with my twelve-year-old son.
He'd learned how to play.
He'd let my son teach him how to play.
And just like that Jake had my heart. Completely.
Seriously.
That did it. Hanging out with my son, doing something simple and everyday. I was already falling for my charming neighbor, I'd admit it, and I was falling fast. I didn't know what was going to happen with him and I didn't know what kind of secrets he was holding inside him, but I was at the point where not going further with him would break my heart. I was taken by this man, who paid attention to my son, and paid attention to me, even when he worked as if he had to. As if working was a compulsion for him.
I was going to find out why and see if I could fix it.
Now I knew this was dangerous territory. I know that you shouldn't try to fix another person, especially a man. People only changed when they were ready to change. You couldn't force it. But I was still guided by that saying that I'd heard before-the busiest man in the world will make time for you if he is in love with you. I didn't think that Jake was in love with me, but I knew that he was interested. Those drawings showed it. And I knew that he was trying to make time for me. So I was willing to risk it, willing to try a relationship with him. Yes, I knew I could get hurt. But I couldn't not do it at this point. And I was also willing to see if I could show him that he could work less and still thrive.
Maybe I could convince him to show his work in public.
I didn't want to think about what would happen if this went bad. I guess he'd move away and I wouldn't have to see him again. But it felt too good being with him not to risk my heart. So I decided to try it.
I gathered us all at the table, and we lit candles. The house was decorated for Christmas, plus the Minecraft things that Rob and Jake had made the other day, so I put a few of them on the table. It was funny, but it worked for me. And it felt right for Jake to be there with us, chatting, telling us about his day, asking us about ours, and talking about what he intended to do in Minecraft with Rob as we ate.
And, to be even more perfect, Jake rolled up his sleeves after dinner, tucked his tie into his shirt front, and helped with the dishes.
I wasn't sure where I'd found this guy.
Still, I knew, he had some demons that we needed to address.
But for now, it was enough just to do these simple, ordinary household things with him.
And since he didn't really have a home, I wondered-were they simple or ordinary to him?
Later that night, after Rob had gone to bed, I sat outside with Jake on my little loveseat. He'd taken off his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Because of a chill in the air, we huddled under a blanket, my feet in his lap.
"You could go change out of your work clothes," I suggested.
"Good idea." He lifted both of my feet over back to me, stood up, and said, "I'll be right back." He leaned over and gave me my first kiss of the night, a light one. And then he kissed my nose tenderly. "Thanks for dinner, Lucy. It meant more to me than you know."
He went into to my house through the patio doors, and I heard him open the front door and close it. A few moments later, he stepped out onto his patio, wearing blue plaid pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt. He vaulted the low gate between our patios and sat down next to me, rearranging my feet over his lap again, putting his arm around my shoulders. I cuddled into him.
"I like you in your suit, but I also like that I get to see you out of it."
He groaned and squeezed me with both arms. "You can't say sexy things like that to me when your son is in there sleeping."
"I meant it in a couple of ways, Jake. Not just the, you know, naked way, but also the private side of you."
Very slowly, he turned to look at me. His eyes darted up and down my face and then he looked crestfallen.
"What?" I laughed, giving him a tiny push.
"If I kiss you now the way I want to, I'm not going to want to stop."
"So talk." Frankly, though, the self-imposed restraint on affection was hard on me too. I couldn't get my fill of him. But I was enjoying his physical, comforting presence and for now, that would have to do. He put his chin on top of my head and held me.
After a moment, he started talking.
"I don't know everything about my parents because I wasn't around for some of it, obviously, but also as a kid, you don't know all that is going on. So I know this. My mom was from a wealthy family back east, in New York."
"Manhattan?"
"Westchester County. Back then, my dad was an artist. He did weird shit. Sort of post-Jackson Pollack. Throwing paint on canvas and seeing what happens. Mixed media too. They fell in love and when my mom announced to her family that she was pregnant by the stereotypical poor, starving artist, they threw her out."
"No!" I yell-whispered.
"I've never met my grandparents on either side. So I guess that there was something about my dad that my mom loved and my grandparents couldn't stand. They eloped and had me almost immediately."
I liked the idea of Jake being a love child, born from passion, but his background was incredibly heart wrenching.
He continued. "Three years later they had my brother, Ethan. I think at first, it was very romantic for my mom. Here she was, married to this artist, you know, who was unpredictable. He'd do things, like bring home a monkey, which was fun for us kids, but there was bad stuff too, like him not coming home for three days, leaving her with us. And that got old real quick.
"The poverty also wore her down. My dad didn't seem to care, but since she had grown up used to being surrounded by things, it hardened her. When I was little, she was so soft. And then she got rougher and more brittle, like she was going to break if we touched her. We eventually made it out here to California and you know, Santa Barbara is both great and tough if you are poor. The weather makes it so that you can live outside for most of the year. But it's expensive."
Didn't I know it. Santa Barbara was a place where people walked over the homeless to open the front door to Saks Fifth Avenue, not that I shopped at Saks. I'd never seen such a dichotomy between the rich and the poor as I'd seen in Santa Barbara.
Then I thought of something. "I thought you had said that your dad was a workaholic."
"He wasn't when I was really little. He just did his art and he didn't make much money from it. He was obsessed with all these weird, creative ideas. Meanwhile, I thought it was a good day when I got dinner."
I took his hand and squeezed it. What could you say to that?
"We got evicted often and I stayed in shelters sometimes. When that happened, normally I'd be with my mom and my brother. My dad had to stay in a different building, with the men. But the thing is, he had artist friends, so he'd just leave us, sometimes for days. He'd come back and I'd hear my parents fighting, and it was always about the same thing. Why wouldn't he work more and make some money so that we could have food and a home."
"Did your parents use drugs?" I was not able to comprehend people who wouldn't sacrifice everything to take care of their children and thought that was the only explanation for this behavior. But maybe it wasn't.
He nodded. "My mom especially. It was her way of coping. So I basically took care of my brother when she was out of it."
His story just kept getting worse and worse.
"So when my brother was killed in a car accident-a freak thing, coming home from school-everything collapsed. My mom went into this zombie state, where she was almost catatonic. When she came out, she left us. She went back home to her parents. I talk to her every once in a while, but she has a new family now, with two kids. She lives in Arizona. We're pretty much estranged."
"And your dad?"
"He couldn't paint any more after Ethan died. With my mom leaving, he checked out too, but he checked out by working. Finally, for the first time in his life, he got clean and held a steady job, working as a copy machine salesman in Ventura. But he does nothing but work now. I barely saw him in high school. I never saw my mom. Now I don't see either. So I got the fuck out of there as soon as I could. I got a job at a grocery store bagging groceries the minute I was old enough, and kept working, making money to go to school, to go to law school, and to just-" He paused.