Page 82 of The Fadeaway
Reaching down to him, I hug him fiercely feeling complete for the first time since I left him. “I missed you.”
Victor approaches, hands in his pockets and looking like he feels like the third wheel.
“Thank you for bringing him,” I say. “Practice is just an hour and I have rehearsal right after. Are you staying or do you want me to meet you somewhere before my rehearsal?”
“About that.”
The coach blows the whistle and Christian and the other kids run onto the field.
I cross my arms, skin already bristling.
“I got a job working nights loading trucks. I start tonight.”
“You couldn’t have given me a heads up?”
“Sorry. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal. What do you usually do with him when you have night classes?”
“It’s not a class, it’s…” I count to three before I respond. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”
“You’re still bringing him this weekend though, right?”
I grind my teeth. “Yeah, it’s your weekend.”
“Maybe we can sit down and talk, come up with a new schedule once I get my work schedule?”
I can only nod. Speaking will result in me saying something I regret later. Or screaming in front of children and their perfect mothers.
“Sorry, Katrina.”
I hear the gravel crunch under his shoes signaling his departure. Pull out my phone and hover over the contacts. We’re less than a month away from opening night of the play and this is the last rehearsal where I can make any big dialogue or script changes.
I could take him with me. Images of Christian tearing through the theater like a tornado make me cringe. That’s not an option.
Me: I know it’s impossibly last minute but can one of you watch Christian tonight while I have play rehearsal.
Blair: Shoot. I’m sorry, I’m working at the tutor center tonight.
Gabby: I start my new job at The Hideout tonight.
Vanessa: Class. Sorry!
Blair: The guys just got out of practice, ask Joel
Ugh. That sounds worse than letting Christian swing from the rafters. I pocket my phone and walk closer to the field. I’d planned on reading through the script during the practice, but instead, I allow myself to just watch Christian. The big smile on his face, his carefree demeanor, the determination, and energy. In the worst of moments my son always reminds me that it’s all worth it. Juggling school and parenting and anything else life throws our way – we can do it. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I retrieve it quickly hoping one of the girls had a change of plans or heart.
Joel: My dick is hard and confused because you’re not here, but my room smells like sex and Kitty. What time are you done with rehearsal?
If I’d known I wasn’t going to be spending another night at his place, I would have entertained the morning sex he attempted at five. After only a few nights I’m already dreading sleeping without him.
Me: Change of plans. Victor had a conflict and I’ve got Christian tonight and tomorrow.
Joel: What about rehearsal?
Me: I’m going to take him with me.
Once I type the words, I feel better about my decision. Something about declaring it makes me accept it. It’s not the perfect scenario, but it is what it is. Joel doesn’t text back, and I return my focus to the practice and watching Christian race from one side of the field to the next. The hour flies by and when the coach dismisses them, I scoop up a dirty and sweaty little boy.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” I tell him. “But first you have to come with me to my play rehearsal and sit super still and be super quiet. Can you do that?”
