Page 17 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
Sounds like fun
It’s a thrill a minute around here
Any chance I could tempt you into taking a break from momming sometime soon? This weekend, maybe?
This time it takes her a lot longer to respond, and I stare at my phone as the three dots showing she’s typing appear and disappear a few times before tossing my phone aside in disgust and going to my room to change into athletic shorts. No need to stay in the jeans I put on to go out when I’m home for the night.
When I get back to my phone, the only text I have is from Connor.
Connor
You done moping about the bad interview? There’s a guest DJ at Vault tonight. We should go check it out.
Pass. I’m not moping. I’m salvaging my reputation. We’ve been over this
I don’t know why you thought going on that douchebag’s show was a good idea. Have you watched his interviews? They’re all terrible.
They’re not all terrible
Besides, Molly set it up. She vetted the guy and said it would be good for me.
Ouch. I bet Molly feels terrible about that
Well, enjoy your night jacking off in your living room. Let me know when you wanna go out again!
Fuck you
You too!
Chuckling, I reopen my text exchange with Maggie, I guess hoping she’ll get the psychic vibes that I’m waiting for an answer.
It seems to work, though, because she finally responds a few seconds later.
Maggie
As fun as that sounds, I’m not sure when or how to make that work. I did have a nice time, but I wasn’t lying to you when I said I don’t get a lot of time off.
I get it. If you come across any free time, though, let me know.
I leave it at that, recognizing when pushing more won’t get me a positive reaction. Her response shouldn’t be a surprise, and it’s not really, but it is disappointing. I know other parents, and they still get time off. But I guess the parents I know are people like Nick Abernathy, the team captain, who has a nanny. That has to make things easier. For someone like Maggie—a single mom working full time? I’m not sure where her kid goes while she’s at work during the summer, but I’m guessing it’s somewhere that costs money. And with a deadbeat dad, she probably wants to prioritize time spent with her kid over entertaining me.
Sometime after ten, my phone rings, and I grab it, wondering if something bad happened. No one ever calls me this late—well, not unexpectedly, anyway.
But it’s Maggie. Grinning, I answer and put it on speaker. “Hey! Did you find some free time in the middle of the night?”
She chuckles. “Not exactly. Free enough to talk on the phone if it’s not past your bedtime.”
“I don’t turn into a pumpkin until well after midnight. I’ll be up for a while. What’s up?”
“Would you be interested in lunch? If you’re serious, I mean. I know it’s not the same as a whole evening, but …”
“Lunch sounds good. Tomorrow?”
She sounds relieved and happy when she responds. “Yeah. Let’s do lunch tomorrow.” She suggests a place to meet, and I look it up to see where it is.
“That sounds perfect. Noon work for you?”
“Let’s say eleven thirty.”
