Growing Pains

“Grow up, T.”

She stared at her reflection. The red rimmed eyes that stared back at her looked so broken. When had she become this woman? This puffy eyed, red faced woman looking back at her. Just ten minutes ago, she’d been able to stand flat-footed and dry eyed before a judge declaring that she, without a doubt, was done being Mrs. Daniel Fieldsmith. 

It had been easy. He’d proclaimed to the entirety of the court room that he did not love her, and save the first two years of their misguided marriage, he had not loved her in a long time. 

To be frank, she didn’t love him either. She had, of course, when they had married at the fresh age of eighteen. Before he’d began to seek comfort in the arms of his coworker. Before he’d taken to insulting her at every chance he found. Before she had grown tired of being a doormat. 

She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why then she was in this very public restroom, with its creaky stall doors and drippy faucet, sniveling like a child that had lost their puppy. 

“Grow up. You’re better than this.”

Not better than crying, she knew that she would cry eventually. She was losing her first love, or the idea of him anyway. Better, she thought, than public tears over a failed childhood fantasy. That’s exactly what it had been, a rushed and underdeveloped adolescent reach at a happily ever after.

Tiffany blew her nose and pressed a damp paper towel to her eyes. Tears of regret and grief should have been reserved for curling up on the couch, wrapped around a throw pillow in partial darkness. 

After touching up her makeup and squaring her shoulders, she stared into the mirror, gave herself a lopsided, but determined smiled and strode from the restroom. 

Tiffany grinned like a cat as the waiter set the over-sized slice of chocolate cake before her. The single candle flickered in the dim restaurant lighting, bouncing light off the white plates and silverware. 

“Happy Birthday to youuuu.” Her best friend crooned. 

“Thank you”, Tiffany said through her smile. 

“Make a wish.”

She paused, taking in a small breath. Tiffany’s mind found its way back to a year ago. Last year she’d only wished for the pain of losing Daniel and the life that they shared to go away. Now exactly a year and three months after she’d stood snotting and snorting in the restroom of the family law courthouse, she smiled. A small secret smile, a little pride danced in her pupils as she stared down at the candle. 

She had spent the better part of the last year rebuilding. She’d moved into her own place, started a new job, and began attending therapy, regardless of her mother’s constant insistence that all she needed was church. 

Tiffany looked at her best friend’s smiling face. She really couldn’t ask to be in a better place in life, she was going into her twenty third year whole and happy. There was nothing left to ask for. Just then, a thought tickled the back of her mind and she stifled a small grunt of amusement before leaning forward, closing her eyes, and blowing out the candle. 

Tiffany raced down the stairs of her law firm into the first floor atrium. She had to catch the postman. This disposition had to go out today. She hopped off the landing, skipping the last step and landing heavily in her sensible three inch patent leather pumps. She let out a breath as she landed. Pausing just long enough to steady herself on her heels before lightly jogging out the front doors to the postal truck parked on the curb. The back doors of the truck stood open and she could hear the postman moving around inside. 

Tiffany poked her head into the truck. The postman had his back to her and was reaching up high to a bucket set on a shelf inside. Tiffany watched him in silence. Her eyes scanned upward from his calves, roped with muscles, to his gray uniform shorts that fit so perfectly Tiffany figured they must have been tailored, then to his light blue shirt that at this angle with him stretched the way he was pulled at his wide shoulders and came slightly untucked at the waist. The white tank top that he wore underneath rose with his shirt and she glimpsed a slither of bare skin, smooth and brown with a cord of muscle that wrapped around to his front. 

“Excuse me” she called out, her voice smaller than she had expected it to be. 

He didn’t turn around. Tiffany realized he had headphones in. Her lips tightened into a line. That couldn’t be safe practice. 

“Excuse me”, she called again.

This time she rapped on the metal door of the truck. 

He turned around quickly, simultaneously removing an earbud from his right ear.

“Yes, ma’am?”

His smile was easy and unexpected, along with the platitude that Tiffany reserved for women much older than herself. She started to remark on how he didn’t need to call her ma’am, but thought better of it. The twang in his words let her know that he probably called every woman ma’am, regardless of age. His short sentenced dripped with honey, she knew he had to be from the South. Besides, when he said it, it was nearly charming. 

The postman quirked an eyebrow at her and she realized that she’d been silently staring at him for too long. 

“Hi, umm. I need to send this out today. Almost missed you.”

“Well, I did miss you. Probably will for the rest of the day”

“I’m sorry?” Tiffany said, squinting her eyes a bit, but lifting one side of her mouth in the slightest smile. 

The postman walked to the end of his truck and reached out his hand, a teasing smile played on his lips. Tiffany looked at his hand and then met his eyes. They stared back, expectantly. She couldn’t possible climb into this man’s truck. First of all, she didn’t know him. Secondly, she was painfully aware of how very public this interaction was. People bustled pass them in the streets of downtown Los Angeles, the sunny weather an open invitation for outdoor lunches and shopping. And third, she would most certainly lose her balance on her way up if she kept staring into his eyes this way. His eyes, a deep honey brown that danced with amusement as he stared back at her. 

He quirked the eyebrow again. A warmth spread down the length of Tiffany’s neck. Had she ever seen this man before? She would have definitely remembered the all tooth smile and almond shaped golden eyes. His boyishly square head tilted an inch to the right. A question. 

“Your… mail?”

Tiffany blinked herself from her stupor. Yes, duh, the mail. Her cheeks warmed and she knew she must be blushing like a school girl. She thanked God for the plum blush that already sat on her cheeks. 

“Right, yes. Here it is.”

She passed him the thick envelope, thrusting her arm forward. His smiled got bigger as he took the envelope from her hand. He licked his bottom lip before holding the envelope in the air. 

“Alright then, thank ya ma’am. I’ll get this out for you today.”

“Alright.” Tiffany heard herself say. 

She stood a moment longer. 

“Yes, ma’am?” A question. 

With an embarrassed smile Tiffany dipped her chin as a farewell and scurried back into her office. 

It had been a week since she’d seen him. The first couple of days she tried to steal glances as the mailmen came in and out of the building. Then she’d taken to running the mail down herself instead of giving it to her assistant like she would normally do. 

Today she wore a hunter green dress that cinched at the waist, accentuating the round of her hips and the waistline that she’d been working on slimming since her divorce. She was down to a size twelve and feeling wonderfully curvaceous. 

She watched as a mail lady entered the building, smiling at her expectantly. Trying to hide her disappointment, Tiffany smiled back and handed her the mail. 

“Is Shayla out?” the mail lady asked, inquiring about Tiffany’s assistant. 

“Oh no, I just figured since I was on my way down I’d go ahead and bring it to you.”

“I see.” The mail lady smiled a small smile, her eyes knowing and playful. 

Tiffany knew that didn’t explain the last two days that she had brought the mail down. However, she decided she didn’t have to explain anything to the mail lady. She needed the mail. Tiffany had brought it to her and that was all that mattered. 

“I’d been out last week, so I imagine you all had a few different bodies on this route. They didn’t mess anything up did they?”

Tiffany’s eyes widened in realization. He was only here to cover, that’s why she’d never seen him and probably wouldn’t see him again. 

“Uh no. They did just fine. I’m going to go. Have to meet a colleague for lunch. Have a great day.” 

She didn’t wait for the lady to respond. With a tight smile she walked briskly from the law firm and turned out onto 11th street. Her best friend would be waiting for her at Caldo Verde, a cute hotel restaurant that she frequented for the Portuguese chopped salad. 

Tiffany walked briskly, even though the restaurant was only two blocks away. She needed the short walk to clear her head of the disappointment she’d just endured or else her friend would smell it on her like an emotional bloodhound. 

She’d convinced herself if she saw the mailman again that she’d introduce herself, perhaps even ask him out. More like nudge him in the direction of asking her. She wasn’t in the business of taking men on dates. The idea made her a smile to herself a little. As handsome as he was, she may consider it. 

“Oof. Excuse me ma’am” a honey dipped twang cooed to her. 

Tiffany righted herself, she’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of the mailman that she’d stopped paying attention to where she was going. She looked up from the chest that she had just collided with, to meet its eyes. 

Two honey brown orbs stared back at her, accompanied by an easy all tooth smile. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Guess you didn’t miss me after all.”

Tiffany’s ears grew hot. The man from last week stood right before her, one hand on her upper arm from when he caught her after they bumped into one another. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“You said that already.” His smiled widened. 

He had to know that he was making her temperature rise. The warmth of his hand against her bare skin sent a tingle through her. He licked his bottom lip and fixed the sleeve of her dress before taking a step backward, dropping his hand. 

Tiffany swallowed the surprise at the back of her throat and smiled. 

“Well, seems you didn’t miss me either.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. What else would explain me coming ‘round that corner just at the same time as you? I don’t believe in coincidences. I’d say I missed you so much my feet got tired of waiting and decided to come find you themselves.”

The heat that had been in Tiffany’s ears, spread down her cheeks and neck. Thank God for her chestnut skin, or else she was sure she’d look like a cherry tomato by now. 

“Sebastian. Sebastian Gilden.” He held out a hand. 

“Tiffany Davenport.” She said, nearly breathless, offering her hand. 

He took her hand in his, cupping her four fingers within his grasp and bringing her knuckles to his lips. 

“May I?” his right eyebrow quirk up in question. 

Tiffany blink quickly. This was a first, but what the hell. Southern is as Southern does, she supposed. 

She gave a quick nod and he brushed the lightest of kisses across her hand. 

“Pleasure, Mrs. Davenport.”

“Miss. Not Mrs.”

His grin turned sly. 

Tiffany’s insides melted. 

“I’m headed to lunch, Miss Davenport. It would make my day if you’d join me.”

Tiffany looked over to the corner where Caldo Verde sat. She pulled out her phone and sent off a quick text. 

“So sorry, have to cancel lunch. I’ll tell you all about it later. Please don’t be angry.” 

After adding a couple of kiss emojis and prayer hands, Tiffany looked up at Sebastian. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

Tiffany turned this way and that in the large mirror. 

“Yaaasss. That is the one!” her best friend hooted. “It says elegant and bossy. Romantic and sweet.”

Tiffany laughed, her friend was definitely over exaggerating, but she did love the dress. 

Later that evening Tiffany pulled on her new dress and did her makeup. She stood in her mirror and smiled at herself. Twenty five looked so good on her. 

“You ready?” her best friend called from her guest room. 

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good.” She stepped into the room, carrying a small round birthday cake. “Happy Birthday to youuuu.”

Tiffany beamed. 

“So, what does a twenty five year old wish for?”

Just then Tiffany’s phone buzzed and a picture of Sebastian popped onto the screen. 

She glanced down at her left hand, the ring there shimmered in the light of the candle.

 “What more could I ever want?”