The train ride was uneventful. He was used to the mode of travel from the time he spent in Europe and made both transfers with no difficulty. The metro station in Ventura was near the beach, so he bought a bottle of water from a vendor, and sat down to watch the waves and think. What was he going to say? Did he just walk up and knock on the door? Should he call first?
Sitting and thinking wasn't making him feel any better, so he began to walk, checking the street signs and consulting the map he had picked up. Several blocks in from the beach he found the street. It was long and narrow, and from the house numbers he knew she lived closer to the other end. He passed a school on the corner, and a park. Small, neat houses lined both sides of the street. It was not a wealthy neighborhood, but the houses and yards were well cared for. He glanced right and left, checking the numbers carefully as he got closer.
There. This was it. The house was blue, with white trim, and there were flowers in a pot on the porch. He was standing there, staring, when someone said "Can I help you? Are you looking for Nadia?"
He turned his head to see a tall woman with short, red hair in the yard next door. Before he could answer, she went on. "She won't be home until later. She picks the girls up at school on Wednesdays and takes them to dance."
"Girls?" The woman had spoken so rapidly he wasn't sure he had heard right.
"Yeah, her daughter and mine. They have dance on Wednesdays." The woman looked at him curiously. "Are you a friend of hers?"
"Yes. An old friend. I'll come back later then." He started to walk away.
"What's your name? I'll tell her you were here.?"
He paused. If he did not tell this woman his name, she would likely think he was up to no good. He would rather be the one to see Nadia's first reaction, but there didn't seem to be much of a choice.
"Sayid." He said. "I'll come back later."
Nadia helped the girls get their bags out of the car. She was glad for the flex time at work that allowed her to leave early on Wednesdays. She enjoyed sitting in the back of the studio with the other mothers watching all the little girls go through their plies and jetes. It was a beginner class and the instructor was patient and kind.
Yasmin and Grace stood next to each other at the barre, a study in contrasts. Yasmin, tiny and dark, Grace tall and freckled. They were the best of friends. Nadia was grateful that Grace and her mother were such good neighbors.
When class was over the girls piled into the back seat, giggling, for the ride home. Laurel, Grace's mom, was waiting on the porch when Nadia pulled in the drive.
"Can I play with Grace for a little while? Please?" Wheedled Yasmin.
Nadia looked at Laurel who smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
"Okay, but just for a few minutes." The two girls ran off .
"Oh hey," Laurel said. "I almost forgot. There was a guy here looking for you. He said he was a friend of yours. Sayid?" She wasn't sure she had the name right.
Nadia stared at her. "What did you say his name was?"
"Sayid?" She said questioningly. "Hey, are you all right? Who is he?"
Nadia walked to the porch and sat down on the step. She looked up at Laurel.
"You're shaking!" Laurel said. "Who the hell is this guy?" She put her hand on Nadia's shoulder.
Nadia almost whispered. "He's Yasmin's father."
Sayid's head was buzzing. Nadia had a daughter. So, she was married, or had been. There was another possibility. The child could be his. He sat on a bench in the park and watched two boys play frisbee with a dog that looked just like Vincent.
He might have a daughter. A daughter he had never seen, or even imagined. As logical as it seemed now, it had honestly never occurred to him that they might have conceived a child. She would be what...eight years old? What was he going to do? What would Nadia expect of him? What did he want? Suddenly he thought of Shannon. How was he going to tell her? If this child were his, what would it mean to her? Would it change how she saw him? Would she assume he would want to be with Nadia? Would she leave? There seemed no end to the questions.
He supposed Nadia would be home by now, but he continued to sit on the bench. He had to have some idea of what he would do if the child turned out to be his. He couldn't go into this situation unprepared. Being a father was something with which he had no experience, but he thought of Claire and realized most people didn't know much about raising a child until they had to do it. Standing up, he decided the only way to find out was to go. Knowing would be better than sitting here wondering about it.