Page 70 of Under One Roof

What I can’t do is imagine my life without her. More, I don’t want to.

The rumble of the school bus pulls me from my thoughts. Logan is the first one off, which is unusual. He’s normally the last, taking his sweet time to gather his things and say goodbye to his friends. But today, he skates right past Andi and me, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“Okay, buddy?” I call after him, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. I turn to Andi, who shrugs, waving to Grace when she hops off the bus. She slings her backpack over her shoulder and tightens her ponytail before I drop my arm around her shoulders. “What’s up with your brother?”

Grace squints at me behind her glasses then tosses a questioning glance to Andi, as if asking permission.

“Fail the science test?” she guesses, and Grace shakes her head.

“He got a B. I got an A.”

Andi pumps her fist in the air. “Of course you did, you genius girl. So, what’s wrong with Logan?”

“Valentina likes another boy,” she says quietly, maybe feeling like she’s breaking twin code or something by telling us, but I’m glad she did. This was the girl that he caught an attitude with me over.

He really liked her.

Poor kid.

And the brow Andi raises in my direction is a silent conversation. I’m gonna have to take this one. Talk to my son about his first heartbreak. I nod toward her, and she smiles at me before telling Grace, “Snack, homework, and then Girl Scouts tonight. I sewed your new patch on.”

“Thanks.”

“I was thinking we could go shopping this weekend to find an outfit for the talent show.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, my treat for your big debut.”

Grace leaps out from under my arm and hugs Andi, bouncing on her toes, babbling excitedly about where they can go and shoes she wants to get. Andi matches her enthusiasm, and it’s a physical ache watching them together.

The way they are with each other is how I always envisioned a mother and daughter might be. There is an ease that I could never begin to have with my daughter. An understanding. A whole other language.

The talent show is in two weeks, and Grace has been practicing every day for it. From what I’ve heard, she sounds good, and I’m happy she’s stepping out of her shell to try something different.

Of course, I have Andi to thank.

Again.

Back at the house, after homework and chores are done, and Andi has left with Grace for Scouts, I find Logan in his room, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. His door is halfway open, but I knock on the frame anyway before opening it all the way. Logan doesn’t move.

“Want to shoot around for a bit?”

My son lifts up on his elbows. “Not really.”

I step into his room and backhand the bottom of his foot. “Afraid I’ll beat you again.”

He waves me off with a cocky, “Psh.”

I grab his ankle, yanking him down the mattress. “Outside in five.”

“Dad! I just want to lie down.”

“And do what? Think about the girl? That won’t help. We’re playing basketball. Let’s go.” I clap a few times as I turn back to the hall, calling out, “Don’t make me come and get you.”

I’m dribbling around when Logan shuffles out, all slumped over. If he’s like this in fifth grade, I don’t even want to think about when he’s older and somebody breaks his heart for real.

“First to ten, loser has to take out the garbage,” I say, and he huffs.

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