Page 38 of Seasoned
“So what are you going to do? Your first two husbands were professors and the last one a corporate attorney. This man is a retired contractor. You’ve been in serious relationships with men in academia, a white-collar man, and a blue-collar man.”
“So then it’s me?” Renee said.
“No. You can’t change. You’ll find someone who appreciates you the way you are, and you’ll be fine. Please don’t contort yourself into someone else to fit a blueprint that frankly doesn’t exist.”
Renee rested her head on her friend’s shoulder and sighed. “What do I do in the meantime? I miss him, and he’s right next door.”
A single woman raising three kids on her own, her mother always told her:“You don’t need no man.”Because of her, Renee and her siblings learned to be independent and care for themselves while their mother worked.
She didn’t need a man, but she wanted this one.
Adelaide patted her shoulder. “He might come around, and remember, you don’t know what he might be going through. But whatever you do, give yourself time to heal, okay? No matter how good being with Clive felt, he might not be the right man for you.”
“He sure felt like it,” Renee whispered.
“Time. Give yourself some time,” Adelaide said.
17
Clive regretted taking advantage of being alone in the house. He sat in the quiet kitchen, staring at the workbook he pulled out of a box in the closet upstairs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at it, and the past hour reminded him of why. The harder he tried, the more difficult reading the words became.
Would he ever get it? Would he ever get past these moments of complete and utter frustration?
He slammed his fist on the table. Slammed it again. Then he stood and upended the table in anger. It crashed to the floor, scattering the workbook and pencils with it. Chest heaving, he wondered why none of his teachers had expressed the same care and consideration for him as Renee did for her students.
As a lifelong athlete, teachers had always let him slide, pushing him through to the next grade because he scored touchdowns or ran for record-breaking yards on the field. Few people cared about his academics when his physical prowess meant trophies and championships.
Clive stepped away and braced his hands on the kitchen counter. Success seemed so far away. The same thoughts flooded his brain that had appeared for years.
Learning to read was too hard.
I’m too old.
I’ll never be able to get this.
He stared down at his hands gripping the counter, so hard his knuckles turned white. Slowly, he loosened his grip and remembered the helpless feeling he’d experienced the other day when he went fishing with Jayson. The longing to be able to—just once—read a book with his granddaughter.
Frustration built inside him until the pressure mounted behind his skull. Clive rubbed a hand across his forehead and let out a heavy breath of resignation.
How many more regrets was he destined to have in life? Despite the excellent work he did, his construction business had never grown beyond him and Margaret. Opportunities to expand had passed him by because of the fears caused by his limitations.
Then of course, there was the current situation with Renee. Another opportunity lost, another regret. He still wasn’t sure how to repair that fractured relationship. Tell the truth or stick to the bullshit explanation he’d given her about not being interested in the event?
Clive righted the table and picked up the workbook and the pencils. He took the educational supplies into his bedroom and placed them back in the box.
He could no longer let pride and embarrassment keep him from reaching his full potential. He recalled Renee’s words from a while back:anything is possible if we work hard enough.
Clive needed help to get the work done, and he knew where to find it.
He found the number in his wallet that his daughter had given him a few days ago. He stared at it for a minute, still unsure. Still petrified of failure.
After dialing the number, Clive pressed zero to bypass the main menu recording.
A cheerful male voice came on the line. “Hello, San Diego Adult Learning Center. How may I help you?”
The sound of the welcoming voice eased his anxiety, and Clive loosened his grip on the phone.
“Hello, my name is Clive Stevenson. I heard you have literacy classes.”
