I hung out for another hour once the kitchen was all cleaned up. Sam and I sat around watching a movie and talking about yesterday’s game while Emma played. And by played, I mean ran circles around the room singing the entire soundtrack from some children’s movie. When Lindsay saw that the high-pitched screeching was starting to irritate me, she did what she does best. She encouraged Emma to sing louder and even sang along.
Yeah. That Lindsay’s a funny one, isn’t she?
I got her back by sneaking Emma a few drinks of my coke and tossing her around a bit. By the time I left, that kid was so wound up she probably wouldn’t hit the sack for hours. I had no idea how Sam does it.
On my way home, I thought about what Lindsay said. As much as I thought Addison was interested in me, I knew in my mind that six months wasn’t enough time to grieve over someone you loved like that. It wasn’t fair for me to put her in that position. So I resolved to let that part slide and concentrate on hanging out with Jaxon. I just hoped it wouldn’t be awkward between Addison and me. I pressed the hands-free button on my steering wheel.
“Jason’s phone,” the computerized voice said.
“Call Addison.”
“Calling Addison.” Yes, I had already programmed Addison’s number into my hands-free set. But driving was the most uninterrupted time I had to talk and if I was gonna be Jaxon’s friend, it would come in handy.
“Hello,” she answered softly after two rings.
“Hey, Addison,” I said nervously. “It’s uh, Jason Hart. How are ya?”
“Hi Jason. I’m doing well. You?”
“I’m good, thanks. Just got done with dinner at Lindsay’s. I’m not calling too late, am I?”
“No,” she said. “It’s only 9, so . . . who is Lindsay?”
If occurred to me that most parents call teachers by their last names, just like their kids. My own mom still calls my former teachers by their last names when she runs into them at the grocery store.
“Lindsay Miller . . . Jaxon’s music teacher?”
“Oh. I thought she was married. Are you dating or something?”
I laughed out loud at that one. For a split second I thought I heard some jealousy in her voice. I quickly brushed that thought aside. Surely I was hearing things and that wasn’t why I was calling her anyway. “No! No way! Her husband wouldn’t go for that at all! No, Lindsay and I go way back. I think we were three when we became next-door neighbors.”
“Really?” Addison asked. “I didn’t realize you knew each other so well.”
“Oh yeah. You can thank me for how good her music programs are,” I teased. “She got a lot of practice directing when she used to make me sing show tunes in the backyard for our parents.”
Addison giggled. “I can’t even picture it.”
“Picture it,” I said, amused at the memory. “Then she made me sign up for choir all through middle school. Thank god football practice got in the way by high school. I bet my mom still has one of my old glittery choir costumes in the back of a closet somewhere.”
Addison laughed louder this time. “I’m gonna start calling you Jazz Hands,” she joked.
“HA! Only when you aren’t in the stadium, ok? And never in front of Lindsay,” I said with a smile. “I don’t know who is more relentless . . . my teammates or her.”
“Deal,” she giggled. And then paused. “Listen, Jason, I’m actually glad you called. I want to apologize for the way I left the other day.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said, stopping her. “I should be apologizing to you.”
“Why?” she asked.
I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me. “I don’t want you to think my interest in you has anything to do with Jaxon. Because it doesn’t. Those are two separate things.”
“Well, thanks,” she said, “because that thought actually did cross my mind. Even though I know we hadn’t met before that day.”
I smiled. “I know. I just wanted to make that clarification. And,” I continued, “I know it’s only been six months since your husband died. That’s not a lot of time and I shouldn’t have put you in that position, so I’m sorry.”
The car went silent. For several seconds.
“Addison, are you there?” I asked, wondering if the call had dropped.
“Yeah, I’m here,” she said quietly. “I’m just . . . processing.”
“Ok,” I said, confused.
“It’s not that . . . ,” she started and then paused, gathering her thoughts. “Well, there’s actually a lot to it. But I don’t really want to get into it right now.”