Page 29 of Just This Once

Maddie pipes up before I can respond. “Mom used to play soccer in college. She was really good too.”

Dante’s gaze slides over to me, a slow perusal that has my body heating up despite my best efforts to remain apathetic to him. I can practically see the gears turning in his head, and I don’t want to imagine what he’s thinking. I’m actively trying to avoid thinking of him the same way, but it’s hard when he looks at me like that.

I drag my hands through my hair, lifting the strands off my hot neck. “We should get going. Don’t want to be late.”

Dante pushes off the counter, putting the cold cuts and pickles back in the refrigerator. “What about you, Mads? You into sports like your brother?”

Maddie shakes her head, her ponytail swaying. “I like dancing and singing.”

Dante’s face lights up with a genuine smile. “Yeah? That’s awesome. You any good?”

Since she’s mid-chew, she shrugs. I’m so happy my daughter found hobbies she loves, but the poor kid isn’t very good at them. Though what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with enthusiasm. Maddie beams. “I have a recital every year for dance, and my school does a spring musical. I don’t know what it is yet, but I heard it might beThe Wiz.”

I hide my grimace. A bunch of mostly kids butchering “Ease on Down the Road.”Great.

Dante holds his fist out for Maddie to bump. “You let me know the dates, and I’ll come check it out.” He glances at me. “As long as your mom says it’s okay.”

Maddie bounces on her toes. “Yeah, okay.”

“Come on.” I usher her out. “We gotta get going.” I toss a quick goodbye over my shoulder to Dante, who’s watching us, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to his steady gaze. Like he’s content to merely look. Like he’s interested in every little thing I do.

So annoying.

I put on my jacket and loop my purse over my shoulder, calling out to Alec, the night manager, that I’m leaving and head out. Once we’re settled in my car and buckled in, Maddie leans forward, casually observing, “Dante’s nice.”

“Mm-hmm. Yep.”Famous last words.

At the field, Maddie and I find seats toward the middle,cheering for Jake as he takes position as midfielder. He’s tall and fast with long strides, able to outrun his opponents. My siblings and I all played sports when we were younger, but Roman and I were the only ones to play in college. My little brother was offered a full ride for football. And then blew it. But…whatever.

I’m woman enough to admit it pisses me off that he was given what I wanted and he threw it all away. I would have loved to be offered a free ride, but I had to work hard, study every night, apply for scholarships and grants of all kinds, and still came out with debt. I’m also the only one with a college degree, even though it doesn’t mean much. My mother raised all of us to know education isn’t about how smart a person is; it’s about how willing they are to learn.

Soccer provided me an outlet and a little bit of a scholarship, and while I used to dream of playing at the Olympics and had a poster on my bedroom wall of Brandi Chastain ripping off her shirt after her game-winning goal, that was never in the cards for me. Instead, I sought out a useful degree in marketing and allowed myself to follow my passions with a minor in visual arts from Penn State. It was there I met Craig, a guy who swept me off my feet. A man who had his sights on expanding his family’s business of real estate and homebuilding. He was handsome and fun, and after living most of my life without a dad, his ability to pay for everything for me was nice. It wasn’t until after we were married that his ability to pay for everything meant I couldn’t do anything without his permission.

My mother passed away not long after I graduated college, and in the difficult months of grieving after her death, I accepted his offer to work for his family’s company. When I got pregnant with Jake, it was Craig’s idea for me to work part time from home, and by the time I had Maddie, I was used to giving in to his whims. To doing all the heavy lifting at home whilestill working for the company, but because I was “at home,” he assumed I should be able to do it all. He never lifted a hand to help. Never went to the grocery store. Never folded a piece of clothing. Never even made dinner while I recovered from my cesarean with Maddie.

He was too busy. Too tired. Too goddamn selfish to ever offer physical support, let alone emotional support. When I finally asked for a divorce, he told me it was my fault. I was giving up. He said he would’ve gone to couples counseling, so when I offered to do that, he said no, it was too late.

It’s comical. The knots some men will tie themselves into simply to make the woman the villain.

I know the moment Craig shows up to the game because Maddie elbows my side, tucking her cell phone away. She got bored and was watching videos, but she probably assumed that would bother her father. Because he’s an ass who doesn’t care about his kids’ wants or needs, only his own.

Craig is six feet tall and lean, and he still looks the same as he did twenty years ago but bald. He started shaving his head as soon as his hair began thinning when he turned thirty. He doesn’t acknowledge Maddie or me when he sits down a few feet from us, but he does cup his hands around his mouth, shouting for Jake to step it up. On the field, my son spins in our direction and lifts his hand, but I can see a subtle change in him when he spots his dad. Maddie, I think, still hopes her dad will notice her. Still longs for a relationship with him. But I’ve had conversations with Jake about Craig since he was younger. About the time puberty hit, I told Jake that even though he might not want to talk to me because I am a woman, he could come to me about anything he was feeling, ask me any questions about the changes happening in his body, but I probably wouldn’t be able to answer them as well as his dad could.

Jake told me, quite matter-of-factly, that he would prefer totalk to me, and that if I didn’t know the answer, he would ask one of his uncles before he asked his dad.

So.

Here we are.

One big dysfunctional family.

“Don’t back down, Jake!” Craig shouts. “Attack the ball!”

Next to me, Maddie shoots me a questioning glance, and I nod. She smiles and moves down the bench. “Hi, Dad.”

Craig turns, finally acknowledging her. “Hey, Madeline. Sorry I couldn’t pick you up. I had a meeting go long at work.”

“That’s okay.” She’s like a little sunflower, always seeking the light, even when the light doesn’t shine back. “Since we’ll be at your house this weekend, I was wondering if I could go to my friend’s house. She’s having a Halloween party and?—”

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