Page 9 of Mother Pucker

“Good! You don’t need him or his stupid offer,” Delia chimes in with a huff. “Men. They always assume they’re doing you a favor.”

“Why would you refuse to work with him after he gave you such a great offer?” Liv asks, giving me a confused look andignoring Delia’s comment. “Shay, do you not realize how that money could set you and Kai up?”

“There’s been this soft lavender aura around you since last night. I can tell something incredible is about to happen in your life,” Dyl adds matter-of-factly, rolling the rose quartz around her neck in her fingers.

“Mom?”

All of us turn toward the soft word, spoken from none other than my son, who is standing at the foot of the stairs. He’s dressed and ready for school. And though he’s homeschooled, provided by his aunty Dylan–because I’m too scared to send him to a public school where he could get hurt on a playground–he still sets his alarm and gets ready as if he’s going to regular school.

Kai searches my face, and I know he heard more of that conversation than I wanted.

“Hey, sweetheart. I have your favorite sea monster smoothie ready for you,” I say, referring to the tall glass of green liquid and the name he recently gave it.

Kai brushes off my words. “Rowan Parker wants you to be his physical therapist, and you said no?”

My friends shift out of the kitchen, all finding other places to go so Kai and I can have a moment alone. They’ve all come to realize how reserved and shy he is. It’s not often that he displays his feelings so openly, so I suspect they’re giving us the time to talk privately.

Taking his hands in mine, I bend to meet Kai’s eyes. “Honey, I’m already busy enough with the clients I have. Treating Rowan would be a lot more than I can manage. I would need to go to his place downtown, sit in all that traffic . . . It would be too–”

“Please, Mom.” Kai’s downturned eyes, so much like his father’s, fill with tears. “The Bolts are top of the division! They could totally get a spot in the playoffs, but they need Rowan. Andif he’s asking you to help him, then that means you’re the best of the best. Just like he’s the best of the best. You have to help him, Mom. Youhaveto.”

My heart sinks, and I know that, regardless of how I feel, I can’t let the sweetest kid in the entire fucking world–who also happens to be my son–down. Rowan ‘Slick’ Parker isn’t just a hockey player to my son; he’s a god amongst men.

It’s been so hard for him without Ajay. I know how much he still misses watching hockey with his dad–things I haven’t been able to replace–and with the Bolts being his favorite team, I know how heartbroken he’ll be if I say no to helping his favorite player.

“Fine,” I sigh, “but you can’t beg me to take you over to his place, Kai. Rowan would be my patient, not a friend, so don’t beg to see him or–”

Kai’s arms wrap around my neck, pulling me to him before I can even finish. His little face nestles into my neck. “Thank you, Mom. I promise, I won’t beg to see him, but could you at least get my jersey signed?”

I wrap my arms around my boy, running a hand through the back of his thick, black hair. “I’ll think about it. Now, how about we get some sea monster juice you love so much?”

Kai groans, “Fine.”

I settle next to him at our green kitchen bar, handing him his smoothie and Ezekiel toast.

The kitchen is relatively usable, minus the fact that sometimes we don’t get hot water on tap and some of the cabinet doors are missing. It also has these ugly yellow floors, but I take comfort in the fact that at least we have mostly functioning appliances.

Delia inherited this ramshackle place from her great-aunt not too long ago. And given the fact that she’s thrown out or sassed practically every contractor who’s had the balls to evencome within a few feet of it, I’m just happy we’ve made the situation work. To be fair, a couple of themdidleave us in the lurch on their own, so it’s been tricky all around.

But because of all that, we still don’t have drywall up in a few places, the floorboards are in need of replacement, and our plumbing problems rival that of a sinking ship.

It’s a miracle we’re all still living here–or living at all–and haven’t torn each other’s hair out or gotten, I don’t know, asbestos poisoning!

I say the last statement in jest because, for the amount of grief we give her about her impossible standards on the house repair work, Delia would never put any of us in harm's way by insisting we live in an unsafe environment.

Though, did I mention we have raccoons in the chimney? Ah, yes, Junior and her three babies, Newton, Shadow, and Slick. Our kids banded together to come up with their names when our previously, thought of as male raccoon turned out to be a female, who gave birth to her babies in our chimney not long ago, and we were told by our local wildlife control center that we couldn’t remove them for six months.

Any guesses as to who came up with the name Slick?

Kai kicks his feet on the barstool, slowly eating his toast. “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Liam said ice skating lessons are starting next Monday . . .” He refers to Dylan’s teenage son, who Kai looks up to like a brother. “Is there any way you’ll let me take them?”

I place my glass on the counter and turn toward him. “Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this. Ice skating isn’t a safe sport. People injure themselves all the time on the ice, not to mention those blades on their feet are sharp. In group classes like that, there are always too many people who aren’t paying attention. What if someone skates over your hand on the iceafter you’ve fallen?” Just the thought of something terrible happening to my little boy has my stomach flipping over. “What if–”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Kai’s shoulders sink and he goes back to his toast. “I get it . . .” He nods slowly, his eyes focused on his toast. “No sports.”

---