Page 5 of Isolation

“You know the deal.” I eyed him.

“I’m about to clean up my mess,” he replied.

“That’s my boy.”

I grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and leaned against the counter while I scrolled through emails on my phone. I saw a message from the restaurant client wanting to talk ASAP. I replied quickly, promising to call after 9:00 a.m. when I dropped Mason off at school.

“Mommy, can I wear my new tennis shoes today?” Mason asked with a mouth full of juice.

“Boy, if you don’t swallow that juice first and then speak. Yes, if you can find both of them. No mismatched shoes like last week,” I reminded him.

Juice dribbled down his chin as he grinned. “My teacher said it was fashion.”

“Yeah? Well, your teacher was being nice.” I grabbed a napkin and wiped his face.

“Grandma said fashion works.”

I had to admit my mother had excellent taste and razor-sharp opinions. She would have had a field day critiquing my life choices. She wanted me to marry a lawyer or doctor—someone with established credentials. Instead, I fell for a basketball player with unshakable confidence and a gorgeous smile.

When I brought him home the first time, she pulled me aside. “He’s gorgeous, baby, but can he pay the bills?”

Four years later, I took a pay cut and worked from home as a freelancer to support his comeback. Still, she didn’t say “I told you.” She didn’t have to.

Mason took his cup to the sink and stood on his tiptoes to rinse it. My phone chimed with a reminder—thirty minutes until school drop-off.

“Hey, wash your face, brush your teeth, and get your backpack. Find those shoes!” I listed off in order to get us out the door. The outfit he wore, a simple t-shirt and jeans, would do.

Mason scampered to his bathroom. I took a moment to sweep up the pieces of cereal in my living room. I saw the city coming alive outside the window—Tuesday in motion as the morning traffic picked up. I thought about Mateo running drills out there, trying to prove himself to a coach so he could get some meaningful playing time.

My chest got heavy thinking about him, how his disappointment had hardened him into someone unpredictable and sharp, how he looked through me sometimes, the latenights, and vague explanations like I was another obstacle between the life he deserved and him.

Today wasn’t the day for marital introspection. I shook off the thoughts. I had to be on my game for these calls and social media strategies, and making sure Mason didn’t lose Mateo’s jersey for show and tell.

Mason slid into the kitchen with his socks on and backpack ready. His face was mostly clean. I grabbed another napkin to wipe the excess toothpaste off. In his hand were the matching shoes he wanted to wear.

“Okay, look at you ready to go!” I grabbed the keys from the hook by the door and my purse.

As we headed toward the door, I glanced at our family photos and the tasteful decor of our home. Everything was in place, painting a picture of a family on the way up. If only photos could tell the entire story.

After dropping off Mason,I was back in my home office, a third bedroom converted just how I needed it with an ergonomic chair that cost more than my first month’s rent in college and dual monitors. The view of the neighborhood was gorgeous. I checked my appearance one more time before connecting to the Zoom call. They would never know I was wearing leggings below the desk. I was professional from the waist up, my best-kept secret.

“Good morning, Danica. Did you see Chef Mike’s comments and the responses to them?” The restaurant owner looked at me through the screen. Worry lines creased his eyes and forehead.

“Yes, and I’ve already drafted my response statement. We’re going to pivot away from ‘chef hates vegans’ to ‘culinaryartist advocates for education.’ We’re going to acknowledge the passion by using the language. We’ll redirect, reframe, and then roll out the vegan menu we discussed.” I shared my screen, pointing out the key points. I could tell his shoulders relaxed.

“This is why you’re on a retainer.”

“I’m best at crisis management.” I didn’t add that I’d had lots of practice at home.

I scheduled a follow-up session for tomorrow, and we wrapped up the call. I closed the video chat, and the photo on my desk caught my eye. Mateo, Mason, and I were at a charity game. Mateo had a wide smile with his arm around my shoulders. That was before his teammate was traded, and he was moved up in rotation. There were whispers of scouts showing interest back then.

I shook off the thought and focused on my calendar. I had two more calls and needed to update Mateo’s social media. His IG had been curated to the right mix of dedicated athlete and family man with sprinkles of community role model. I crafted his online brand as meticulously as any big business corporate brand would.

I’d spent years spinning stories, controlling narratives, and managing public images for clients. The irony wasn’t lost on me as I was doing it now for my own family. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Lanette.

Lanette:

The team misses your strategic mind. I’m still holding that senior position. Are you ready to come back full-time?

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