February 2021
"I'm so sorry. I–" Roman Williams grabs me by the shoulder before I fall face-first into the grass. We're in the courtyard of CPUT and it's orientation day madness. He's carrying a million different bags. And what looks like a campus map. "—you'd think I'd know my way around campus. I went here."
"No...um...problem," I say to him. I'm a bit stunned. He's really good-looking. Like intimidatingly attractive.
"My son...had decided to apply for a residence in Jackson's Court. I have no idea where that even is... I mean, in my day, there was one building for the boys and one building for the girls. It was all on campus, too. It hasn't even been that long..." he asks.
"And here I was hoping you could help me find the PR and Communications faculty office so... Yeah, no, I have no idea," I say to him. We have a laugh about it. Like it's just so ridiculous that we're this useless and the world seems to be spinning at ten times its usual pace but we'll manage.
He's looking at me. "My son, Micah, is in his first year. Uhm...computer science. He's run off with his sister. They're finally on uni together and I know they're going to give me the hardest time. Ashlae is in her last year of postgrad. I'm getting a headache just thinking about having her home complaining about having to apply to postgrad programmes. I have no idea how I did it."
"You did computer sciences, too?"
"Law."
"Oh, okay. I feel absolutely inadequate now. You're raising a family of geniuses—your wife. What does she do then? Amaze me," I'm playing with the idea that he's a single dad who was dumped by the mother of his children when they were like nineteen and he had to stay and look after the kids. He wanted a better life for them and made all sorts of sacrifices to put himself through law school.
"She used to work in tech. Micah is basically a carbon copy of her—right down to the hair," he says. He's trying to act all nonchalant about it, but I can tell that it's a sore topic.
I touch my throat. I swallow my next words. I can't believe I asked him about his dead wife. Shit. He's probably never going to want to talk to me again. Much less want a relationship. "I'm so sorry—"
"—don't worry about it. You didn't know," he insists.
"No, I should've asked. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not usually this...social. I promise my parents taught me manners," I say to him and hope it lightens the dark mood between us. He looks like he's shut down from the conversation. There's no natural opportunity to ask him for his number.
He chuckles politely, gathering his bags."I don't doubt it. It's any parent's dream to have their kid be someone who they can boast about at family parties."
Right. The end of the conversation. How do you prepare yourself for something like this? I'm not ready to lose him in the frenzied crowd of first-years and parents by any means. There must be something I can say...
I'm already reaching for his bags. "Do you need help with those?"
"No, you're not helping me with these. I feel emasculated enough. I'll get Micah on the phone and see where he is and then, maybe, we can help you find that faculty office?"
"Uhm...yes! Okay." Oh my God. Oh my God! It's the equivalent of a first date. I'm already scheduled to meet the kids.
We find a bench and Roman reluctantly leaves me with his bags. He dials his son, walking off into the distance to take the call. What do I do now?
He returns. "So the kids are going to meet us in about ten minutes. I mean, my kids. I'm sorry. I'm so used to... never mind."
His face is flushed burgundy. I smile at him. I've never had friends with kids older than a baby before so it's definitely going to be a culture shock. "It's okay."
"Right. I don't think I got your name?"
"Landon,"
"Roman," he says, extending his hand.
I'm hesitant to take it. You know that thing where even just feeling the breath of someone you're taken with drives you criminally insane and then you're stalking them on Instagram late at night under a burner account. Direct correlation. I let him cover my hand with his. His handshake is firm. Practised. It's just another day in the life of Corporate Lawyer Roman Williams. He doesn't feel what I'm feeling. I pull away.
"You can't go around telling everyone you're a lawyer and that your daughter is finishing her undergrad studies in Coms and that your son just started his first year at CPUT," Ashlae walks over to us, her tote slung over her shoulder. "That's what he said when you met right? We're all he ever talks about. It's so embarrassing."
"That's...that's not true," he insists. "Where's your brother?"
"He's found someone to talk to about gaming. I think his name is Shay or something," she says to her dad.
"You're dad's really not that great that this navigation thing," I say.
"His car's got a GPS in it," she says and we laugh like it's the funniest thing on Earth and I think maybe this isn't so bad. Right? His daughter isn't the worst person to be around. He's got a beautiful family. Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?