Sitting Pretty

I found her through the local children;s hospital. I desperately needed someone to care for my daughter while she was out of school for the summer. I didn't want just some kid from the neighborhood and I was reasonably sure I didn't want a creepy old lady. I needed someone young and energetic to keep up with Sarah; I wanted her to have a normal life now that we had made a new start after...well after.

The local children's hospital offers a babysitting safety class for kids over 13. Sylvia had taken the class and she answered my inquiry quickly. It was a quick and sanitary process. She was very experienced, old enough to drive, and lived nearby. The hospital doesn't just give out the info, of course, had to jump through a few hoops to verify that I was not a pedophile. At least that I was not preying upon babysitters.

She was 16 and assured me she would turn 17 in a month--and therefore had been driving more than a few weeks. She and Sarah hit if off right away. Sylvia took Sarah to the pool, to art classes that first week. Most of the time I had planned to work as little as possible, but as an architect, there are occasional deadlines to meet. The first time I came home late, I was met with a sleeping daughter and a hot meal for the first time in 2 years.

I laughed when I walked in, incredulous and shamefully joyous as I smelled warm food. I had no time to think before I walked into the kitchen.

"Sylvia? Wow! Did you do this?" I was frightfully giddy, but unaware of it at the time. I was so tired and so hungry, and riddled with guilt at having kept her late.

"Oh, yes. I did. Sarah ate her usual macaroni and cheese, had a bath and fell asleep with almost no fight at all. I got bored." She looked a little sheepish, but basically pleased. "Sit down, I will serve you.."
"Oh, no you won't! You're a babysitter, not my maid. Did you eat yet? Sit down!" I reached to pull out plates.

"No, let me at least serve the food, even if you help. I need to make sure the sauce is done." She reached behind me as I turned and I almost landed on her.
"I'm Sorry, Sylvia.." I stuttered out and tried really hard to right her and myself before we both fell to the floor.
"My fault!" she stammered as she grabbed my waist.
I wrapped my arms around her, and felt her stiffen briefly. I told myself it was necessary to steady us, but even in the midst of the confusion, I knew it was an impulse fed on testosterone.
"Mr. Grey, I.." she relaxed into me then, totally catching me off guard for the second time in the evening. It was only seven-forty-five.

"Aaron. I've told you all week that.."
"Mr. Grey is your father, I know. Okay Aaron. Do you have any idea what we should do now..." her voice was muffled as she pressed her face into my formerly starched shirt. "I.."

"I should let go..." I said as my hand reached up to pull the hair off of the nape of her neck. I let it fall and smoothed it down from crown to shoulders. I felt her shiver, and my body responded in kind. She was so...reasonable....mature....11 years younger than I!

"Oh, as if I am not totally hanging onto you right now," she offered breathlessly.

"Yeah, but..."

"But, what--you should know better? How 'bout we back away on three?"

"Of course I should know better...why shouldn't I?"

"One....Two..." and on three we backed away from each other. We both stopped with a countertop behind us. I knew I needed it for support. She seemed to be fine.

"I felt it, there wasn't anything you or I could have done about that..."

"I coud have let go. Felt what?"

"That spark. That heat."

"Please! There is no such thing as 'it just happened...'" I rolled my eyes, and exhaled, praying I sounded anywhere near convincing.

"Oh, I agree, but there wasn't much time for premeditation, there, was there?"