Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [85]
I gather Chloe into my lap and think about what Ruth had said. She’s right. No one would think it odd if a forty-three-year-old man had never been married, but a woman? Forget it.
Just then I look up and see him. Gym-Dad is standing in the doorway of the coatroom, looking nervously around the room. He’s holding his son, a redheaded toddler. One of the other moms advances on him, offering a name tag and a pen.
“Hey, Ruth,” I whisper.
“Hang on, I can’t quite reach him,” Ruth says, inching her way further into the tube, so that her backside is now fully encased. “Mira, can you go around and try to get him from the other side? I think he’s closer.” Gym-Dad makes his way into the room, pausing to release his son, who, of course, makes his way at a fast clip to the large huddle of toddlers surrounding the other side of the yellow tube.
“Ah, Ruth,” I say, this time leaning in and tugging urgently at her foot.
“Damn, these things aren’t exactly made to accommodate the middle-aged woman’s anatomy. I think I’m stuck,” Ruth says, her voice echoing hollowly in the yellow plastic tube.
Just then Carlos emerges from the other end, and the little redheaded boy joins the crush of kids scrambling back in. When I look up, Gym-Dad is crouching next to me, leaning down to look into the back end of the tube, expecting, I assume, to see his son, but instead gazing straight into Ruth’s backside.
“Bit of a roadblock, I see,” he says evenly, his eyes smiling. He’s got a pleasant face, more youthful than boyish, at odds with the softly graying temples and small craggy lines around his eyes and mouth.
I can see Ruth’s body tense at the sound of his voice. “Mira?” she says, hesitantly.
“I’m right here,” I tell her as I watch Carlos, who has now escaped the tube, hurl himself toward a sea of yoga balls.
“Grab Carlos, will you? While I, um, try to get out of here,” she mutters.
When I return with Carlos and Chloe, Gym-Dad is helping Ruth to her feet. Her hair’s come loose, one of Carlos’s tiny gym socks is stuck to her pant leg, and her face is the color of a late season persimmon.
“Thanks,” Ruth says, bending low to dust off the knees of her pants and remove the stray sock. I bend down to put Carlos’s sock back on, and when I catch Ruth’s eye, she glares at me. The two of us stand up.
“Hi, I’m Mira,” I say, extending my hand to Gym-Dad. “This is Chloe, and this is Carlos, who belongs to Ruth, whom you’ve already met.”
“No, I haven’t, but it’s nice to meet you both,” he says, taking my hand and shaking it. “I’m Neil, and this is Eli,” he says, running his fingers through Eli’s thick red curls as he stands with his head buried in his father’s pant leg. “Those tubes can be tricky,” Neil says sympathetically. Ruth nods mutely and looks down with concern at Eli.
“I’m sorry. I think I scared him,” she says.
“He’ll be all right. He’s a bit of a nervous kid, that’s all.” The three of us stand there awkwardly until Carlos pokes Eli in the back. Eli begins to whimper.
“Carlos!” Ruth says.
“No, don’t worry about it,” Neil says, picking up Eli. “He was just being curious. Well, I guess we’ll look around a bit,” he says, wandering off in the direction of the rocking horses.
“How could you?” Ruth hisses, as soon as Neil is out of earshot.
“I tried to warn you—” I begin, but Ruth interrupts.
“Then his kid comes charging through the other end of the tube, takes one look at me, and begins to cry. Nice.”
“Who cares? And besides, now at least he’ll remember you,” I tell her.
“My butt, more likely—not exactly my finest feature, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
I give Ruth’s arm a nudge and incline my head in the direction of the rocking horses. “Come on, Carlos loves those. Let’s go over and—”
“No!”
“Don’t you want a chance to talk to him?” When I look over, Neil is looking at us. “Don’t look now, but he’s looking this way. Come on,