My phone rang just after my daughters and I got home from dinner with Charles. Charles's number showed on the caller ID. "Hello?" I said.
"Hello. Is this the beautiful lady with the beautiful daughters?" Charles said.
I giggled. "Yes, this is she."
"I had a really good time tonight. Even though you did leave me stranded all alone in the mall for a while."
"We had fun too. I'm sorry about the way Rosa acted, though."
"She was just being a kid. She was fine. Loosen up, mom."
"Okay, okay. So where are you now?"
"About halfway to the state line. I just wanted to call and tell you how nice it was to see you. And your daughters are beautiful, just like their mother."
"Well, thank you."
Anissa, my twelve-year-old, shook her head. "Mom's got a boyfriend," she chanted in a whisper.
I waved her away with a mock glare. "What was that?" Charles asked.
"Oh, Anissa's teasing me," I said. "She said you're my boyfriend. And Rosa called you my evil boyfriend thing."
"Evil boyfriend thing," Charles repeated slowly. "Okay. And am I?"
"You're not evil," I replied.
"Am I your boyfriend?"
"I don't know. That's kind of up to you, isn't it?"
"Oh, no, it's up to you."
"Well, we did agree not to see other people. So I guess you sort of are. If that's okay." What was I thinking? He probably didn't want to be considered my boyfriend. With his life, on the road all the time, I was sure he didn't want any kind of strings. But if that was the case, why had he been the one to suggest we be exclusive?
Sure enough, he said, "I don't want strings. It hasn't been that long since my divorce, I've been through two of them, and I don't want to get married again. But I am willing to see only you and see where things go."
"Same here. I don't want to get married again either." One unstable ex was more than enough.
"Then I guess we're looking for the same thing."
"So if Rosa calls you my evil boyfriend thing again?"
"Well, I guess she can call me that."
I'd heard the clichΓ© "my heart soared", but I always thought it was just a saying till that moment. When Charles acknowledged that he was my boyfriend, my heart really did feel like it was soaring. I didn't let on to him, though. "Well, I'll disagree with the evil part," I said.
"Oh, no, I really am evil and horrible and just plain mean," Charles replied. "Ask my grandkids."
"Uh huh. Sure."
"I'd better let you go. I'll be coming to the barrier toll soon, and it won't look good if I'm yapping on the phone. I'll try to give you a call tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay."
"Night, sexy."
"Night."
He hung up. I closed my phone and plugged it into the charger. "Was that Charles?" Anissa said.
"You know it was," I replied.
"Ooh, he missed you so much after ten minutes he just had to call, huh?"
"It's been more than ten minutes."
"You're blushing, Mom."
"Evil boyfriend thing, evil boyfriend thing," my nine-year-old chanted.
"Yeah, yeah." Of course I was; I could feel how hot my face was. But I wasn't about to discuss my love life with my children. "Niss, did you finish unpacking yet?"
"There's too much to unpack tonight," she whined.
She did have a lot to unpack. She'd been living with her father for four months; most of her stuff had been at his place. Actually, at his girlfriend's house, which she'd thrown them out of the day before. For some reason I couldn't fathom, after spending the night on his parents' couch, instead of taking Anissa to school that morning her father had dropped her off at the girlfriend's on his way to work. The girlfriend had called me and told me to come get Anissa and all her things out of her house; I'd stood up to my ex-husband for one of the few times in my life and had told him Anissa was coming back to live with me, and if he didn't like it I would see him in court. He'd backed down.
But Anissa had been moved around a lot in the past few months, first to her father's parents, where he'd been living when she'd gone to him, then to the girlfriend's, and from what I understood she and her father had bounced back and forth more than once because the girlfriend kept throwing them out. I wanted her to understand that as far as I was concerned, this move back to my home was permanent. She wasn't going to live out of trash bags and suitcases. "You don't have to unpack it all tonight," I told her. "But by the end of the weekend, I'd like you to have it all set. So why don't you go unpack one more bag, and then you can watch some TV."
"Can I go on the computer? I want to tell my friends I'm back here now. A couple of my friends from school last spring are on my messenger list."
Anissa's computer time was a big concern. She spent hours on it, sometimes to the exclusion of even talking to her family. I knew she hadn't had as much time on it at the girlfriend's house, since there had only been one computer there for the use of eight people, but I was sure she'd spent more time on it than was probably good for her. On the other hand, I wasn't much of an example, given how much time I spent in the chat room of the group through which I'd met Charles. And I knew Anissa's online friends were important to her and some of them were helpful and supportive to her when she was having a hard time. "Okay, you can go on the computer for a little while," I agreed. "But you have to unpack at least one bag first, and I want the stuff put away, not just shoved under your bed."
"There's nothing under my bed, Mom."
"Yeah, right. So if I go up and look right now, I won't see a single thing on the floor under there?"
A guilty expression came over her face. "Well, maybe a few things."
I laughed. "Go unpack. And no more stuff under your bed."
"Rosa, come help me," Anissa said.
Obediently, Rosa followed her sister upstairs. After a moment, the sounds of their acting out one of their favorite Japanese cartoons mingled with the sounds of Anissa's CD player. I sat down at the computer and relaxed. I'd spent four months worrying about where Anissa was and what might be happening to her, given that her father seemed to think she could take care of herself. Now, finally, she was back where she belonged.
* * *
I spent the weekend with my daughters; for once, I was barely in the chat room. While Anissa had been with her father, I'd had both girls every other weekend, and had gotten into the habit of taking them out somewhere fun, preferably free or inexpensive. This weekend, I let Anissa choose the place. "I don't want to go anywhere," she said. "I have to unpack. I want to stay here and just get used to being here again. Am I really going to live here now?"