Page 148 of The New Guy
It’s really hard to be the new kid, after all.
But after I landed a good job at U.C. Boulder, everything seemed to fall into place. It’s not pro hockey, but my hours are great, and the athletes I work with are young and full of enthusiasm.
And the move wasn’t as hard on Jordyn as I’d feared. She’s learned a few things about how to be the new kid. Over the summer, she talked Hudson and two of his teammates into throwing her a skating party at the practice rink for her birthday.
Hudson has gotten a little better at saying no to her. But he said yes to this, on one condition—“You have to invite every kid in your whole grade, okay? It’s a big rink. And nobody should feel left out.”
He must have been right, because the party wasverywell attended.
I’m not sure whether it’s good parenting, or not, to let your kid increase her social status by leveraging the team’s popularity to the unsuspecting fourth grade residents of Boulder. But here we are.
“Wish I could have seen your concert,” Hudson says, setting down his wineglass. “You know I would have come if I was in town.”
She shrugs. “Daddy made a video. You can watch it with me after dinner. Then we have to watch the next episode of Hawkeye.”
He picks up his fork and smiles at her. “Sure, but only if we can do both of those things before bedtime. It’s a school night.”
She squints at him. “But I’m on Christmas break.”
“Oh. My bad.”
“The episodes aren’t that long. Maybe we could watch two of them.”
“One is plenty,” I say, just in case Hudson forgot how to say no on his road trip.
He gives me a knowing smile, because he can see right through me. Jordyn should go to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight, because it’s good for her health.
And because I want some time alone with him.
He winks at me.
After dinner, he instructs her to put on her PJs and brush her teeth. Then they settle onto the sofa in the living room.
While I make a fire in our fireplace, they watch the concert video on his phone. And then we all watch an episode of Hawkeye. They squabble over the plot, but I haven’t been watching the show with them, so it goes over my head. I’m just here for cozy family time in front of the Christmas tree and the fireplace. Fine. And for Jeremy Renner in a form-fitting costume.
“Bedtime!” Hudson announces when the credits roll.
“Piggyback ride up to bed?” she wheedles.
“Absolutely.”
She climbs onto his back, and I watch them disappear up the stairs from my perch on the sofa.
With the TV off, the crackle of the fire is the only sound except for the low murmur of Hudson’s voice from Jordyn’s room.
I’m still “Daddy” while he’s “Hudson.” And he is careful to defer to me on parenting decisions. But it’s nice to have some support. Like I told Hudson recently—“I still feel like a clueless dad sometimes, but I no longer feel like a cluelesssingledad.”
“So we’re both clueless? Sounds accurate,” he’d replied. “But I think we’re pretty great, and Jordyn is a lovely kid. We must be doing a few things right.”
I recline on the sofa, the wineglass on my belly, and I listen to their voices. Once again, I’m living the dream. A healthy family, a home, a good job. I’m grateful every day, because I know how perilous it all is.
And how wonderful. The fire warms me, and I know in my bones that there’s nowhere else I need to be right now.
It’s almost Christmas. And just afterwards, Jordyn’s grandparents will fly out to whisk her away to an Aspen ski vacation for a few days. They bought an overpriced condo, which they have visited four times so far.
Eustace loves Colorado, apparently. We visited them in New Hampshire again over the summer, too. The monster-in-law is as pleased with me as she’ll ever be, I guess.
My thoughts are interrupted by the doorbell, which is not entirely unexpected. Several players live in this development. And now that Hudson has become more social with his teammates, they pop by from time to time.
