Page 1 of Foster

CHAPTER 1

Foster

Glancing in the rearview mirror, I adjust in my seat so I can see Bowie Jane in the back. She’s slumped sideways, head against the window and her mouth slightly parted as she slumbers. Her long dark hair is in two braids with loose pieces pressed against what had been, not too long ago, a hot and sweaty face.

My daughter.

My reason for existing.

Having just turned ten years old, she looks so much younger when she’s sleeping like this.

She’s out cold, so I turn up the music a little and bop my head along to Taylor Swift, knowing it won’t wake her. A full day at Idlewild—an amusement park here in Pittsburgh—has her down for the count. Hell, my grown ass is exhausted from the heat of the day, the spinning rides and roller coasters, and keeping pace with my kid.

I glance back again at her, a smile coming to my face, but I can’t ignore the heaviness in my heart. We’re leaving in four days to take her back to her mom in California. My summer with my little angel is rapidly coming to an end as she’ll be starting school next week.

And what a summer it’s been.

I flew out to California to get her the day after our team—the Pittsburgh Titans—lost our bid for the championship in the second round. Yeah, I was bitter and broken up about the loss but when the wheels touched down in San Francisco, I put it out of my mind. The season was over and my summer with Bowie Jane was starting. I spent a few weeks in the Bay Area until she finished school, then we were on a plane and back in Pittsburgh for a full three months of daddy-daughter goodness.

Divorced from her mother, Sandra, for the last two years, it’s been an adjustment, to say the least. At first, it was managing shared custody and my hectic career as a second-line center for the San Francisco Bay Brawlers. Those first six months were all about eking out every bit of spare time I could to spend with Bowie Jane on my days in San Francisco to help ease the pain and heartbreak of her parents divorcing. Then I came to Pittsburgh to join the newly reformed Titans after their original team died in a plane crash and my world turned upside down.

Getting traded is always on the table in professional sports but I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be moving across the country from my daughter. At least in San Francisco, I had proximity to Bowie Jane and she was with me as much as possible. Sandra and I had agreed on fifty-fifty split custody, but it didn’t always work out that way. Even when I wasn’t on the road, the nights I had home games meant she was with my ex instead of me.

Still… I got to see her every week for at least a few days and while I never thought it was enough back then, in hindsight, I realize it was such a luxury.

Now that I’m in Pittsburgh, my time with Bowie Jane is precious and rare. Yes, I get her during the summer months, but it’s a long fucking nine months without her. If I’m lucky, I can sneak in a few visits when I’m on the West Coast playing or, in saner times, Sandra would bring Bowie Jane east to Buffalo when we’d play the Wolves. My ex-in-laws live there and while we’re not on the greatest terms, they fully support the efforts Sandra makes to give me just a few extra days a year with my daughter.

There was a time I was so grateful to Sandra for making that effort to travel with our kid so I could see her. But something is off with her lately and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

It started back in April when she bailed on our prearranged agreement to bring Bowie Jane to Buffalo. We’d worked out a deal where our daughter was going to stay with her grandparents until I could get her for the summer, but Sandra was a no-show.

As in, she didn’t show up at all.

Fuck, was I pissed, terrified something had happened to Bowie Jane. Sandra didn’t answer my calls, but her dad eventually caught up with her. Her excuse was that she’d gotten tied up with work and couldn’t make the trip.

I called bullshit on it but there wasn’t anything I could do. I missed out on a quick visit with my kid but nothing else changed as far as my time with her. So I had to wait patiently for my summer break to begin after the playoffs, although once Sandra finally answered my phone call, I lit into her good. She was apologetic but it didn’t sound genuine.

If anything, she sounded… distracted, and that has persisted. The entire summer, Sandra has been flighty. She was going to come visit Bowie Jane on two separate occasions but bailed on each, claiming she wanted to give us as much time together as possible. That was fine with me because I’m greedy when it comes to spending time with my kid, but it wasn’t fine with Bowie Jane. She loves her mother and misses her, and she was severely disappointed.

Sandra didn’t seem to give two fucks though, blowing off Bowie Jane’s tear-filled pleas over the phone to come visit. On top of that, she’s just not communicating with our daughter frequently enough to be of any value.

When I came to Pittsburgh, I made it my mission to have some form of communication with Bowie Jane on a daily basis. I always aimed for a FaceTime call no matter where I was—here or traveling. If that didn’t work, at least a quick phone call. And on those rare occasions where my travel schedule was so hectic and I couldn’t manage one of those, I’d record a video and text it to Sandra to play for our kid.

Every single fucking day.

And yet Sandra only takes the initiative to reach out to Bowie Jane a few times a week. At first, she would call Sandra to fill in the gaps, but as I’d listen to her side of the conversation, I could tell her mom wasn’t fully engaged and she often ended the calls before they’d barely started.

I had my suspicions but Bowie Jane confirmed it.

Mommy had a new boyfriend, and he was apparently taking up a lot of Sandra’s energy, time and focus.

We were eating dinner one night when Sandra called. Their chat lasted no more than five minutes and when Bowie Jane hung up, she huffed out a sigh of frustration.

“What’s up, pup?” I asked.

“Mom’s going to some fancy dinner party and had to go so she could get dressed. She has a stylist coming over.”

That caught my attention because why in the hell would she need a stylist? I asked Bowie Jane that exact question.

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