Just Do It || Part 4

“You can’t buy our daughter’s love with shoes!” I was shouting at Rashed. He screams Noooor 7illi 3anni and hangs up. And now my ten-year-old son has cried himself a puddle because he wants sneakers too.

Styling children isn’t always easy, primarily because they seem to believe that everything you choose is awful. I scour the Just Do It store and I hear someone say that I looked like I needed help. A man stood there holding the perfect pair in electric green. Evidently all the kids were wearing them, including his.

I don’t want to go back home just yet. I decide to treat myself to a coffee. As I stand in line, the same voice says that it is now my turn to make a recommendation. I was annoyed. This isn’t Alabama, you can’t just talk to people you don’t know. He orders exactly what I’m having and tells me I have good taste. I smile, between my mother, my kids, and my ex it had been such a long time since someone said something nice to me. Even if it wasn’t true. He tells me that our kids go to the same school. Not a complete stranger then.

He follows me to the table and asks to sit with me. I shrug. A few mild pleasantries later I learn that sneaker dad is also divorced, three years now. He was cute, not in an obvious way like Rashed, but there was something about him. He asked if I’d like to have dinner with him that night. This is scary. I needed scary.

As a newly-single woman I know I’m meant to believe that I had been given a second chance at life. But in all honesty, being single at my age left me feeling exposed and awkward. What would people say if they saw me? How do you even date these days anyway?

Dinner was actually more than fine.

After dinner he walks me to my car. Then sneaker dad turns around and gives me a confusing look. “Noor, would you like to come home with me?” I beg your pardon? Alas, I had heard about this. Silly, silly men who think that just because a woman is divorced she must be, well, available.

“I’m very discrete,” he continues.

I’m at a loss for words. I walk away.

The house is dark and asleep. I accidentally knock over my still full coffee cup with my pretty Rosantica clutch.

First the date and now the coffee… How could you be so blind?

To read the other parts click here.