Page 72 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

“The family has saved a lot by having you there for the past couple years,” Carol says. “We would’ve been paying a fortune in home healthcare. Plus, Mom said there’s no way Dad would be as good about doing his PT without you badgering him. They appreciate what you’ve done too, honey.”

Brad promises to run some numbers and talk Mom and Dad through the possibilities and a timeline. After we all sign off, I sink into my pillows, equally wired and exhausted. It took a lot to ask for what I deserve, but I was rewarded for doing it. Things won’t always go my way so easily, but I guess it’s true that it doesn’t hurt to ask.

In fact, in this situation, it would’ve been hurtful not to ask. My parents might’ve avoided doing what’s best for them because they wouldn’t want to leave me in the lurch.

It’s too late to make a difference between Josh and me, and with the promise of a bit of financial freedom, I realize that I could leave Climax altogether if I wanted.

But it’s not just Josh keeping me here. I love my hometown. I love my friends. And I even love my job, even though it’s not what I set out to do. It might be torture to have to work with Josh without being a part of his life, but I can rise above it because I want to make CPR a place that serves our community.

I’m committing to Climax.

ChapterTwenty-Four

AVERY

I take a deep breath and count to ten but I still want to throw my laptop across the room. Not because I’m mad at Josh. I just don’t want anybody to make decisions about CPR kids’ programming until I’ve had my say.

I always thought that what Daisy called being a doormat was just being kind and generous with my time. But over the past few days, I’ve realized that a little gremlin of resentment hides underneath that helpful facade. When I’m assertive instead of passive, I can be the one to make things happen.

Best of all, I kind of like this version of myself.

It’s a lot easier to be productive when you’re not running around taking care of everyone but yourself. And learning how to say no, even to just a few things, has opened up all kinds of mental space to focus on things that are important to me.

I finally got Leia to share the complete survey results with me, and after reading through them, it’s crystal clear that Playgroup has to go. The highest priority for families now is after-school care, preferably a program that includes enrichment. It’s hard for working parents—even ones working from home—to pick their kids up and drive from one activity to another. Even harder to cough up the money to pay for things like art classes or language lessons. But colleges expect applicants to have those things on their resumes.

Meanwhile, they’re getting cut from school budgets right and left.

If CPR could provide these activities in one place after school, it would go a long way toward fulfilling that need. But we have the same problems parents do: costs and transportation. I know there’s an answer. I can feel it tickling the back of my skull. But it just won’t reveal itself.

“Sweet baby Cheez-Its!” I yell in an effort to jog something—anything—loose from my brain.

“You know kids don’t believe in your so-called swear words, Aunt Avery.” Riley Blake intones this from my doorway with the practiced ennui of a fourteen-year-old going on forty. She and her twin brother Owen aren’t related to me, but I love being their honorary aunt.

“Says you,” I shoot back. “Total bullnickles anyway, because you did.”

Leia’s daughter rolls her eyes in the exact same way her mother did when we were in middle school. “When I wasfivemaybe.”

“Exactly. My target audience.”

She leans against the doorframe. “What’s making you sodadgumupset anyway?”

“You know I stopped using that one. Kids kept begging me for dad gum.”

“Whatev, Aunt Avery.”

I’m about to shoo her out so I can concentrate, when I realize that she’s exactly what I need. One of the walls I keep running into in my research is regarding teen jobs in Greene County. Either there are no jobs for young people during the school year, or the jobs that exist aren’t advertised. Maybe the actual teens can fill me in on their employment situation. “You know, you just might be able to help me with this. Is your brother around?”

Instead of pulling out her phone to text him, Riley just turns her head and yells, “Ohh-wen! Get your bench in here!”

I look down so Riley doesn’t see my smile. She probably doesn’t even realize she’s substituted “bench” for “butt.”

Owen appears, panting, a few moments later. “’Sup.”

“Aunt Avery needs us, Shorty.”

“Stop calling me that.”

When he attempts to shove her, she deftly ducks under his arm and glides into the room. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”

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