Page 34 of Foster

For the next hour, I coach Mazzy as she and Bowie Jane finish up their game. She improves incrementally before finally declaring, “I suck at this game. I’m done.”

Bowie Jane and I give her a good deal of ribbing but we start a new game with just the two of us, and Mazzy turns into my kid’s cheerleader. She encourages and praises Bowie Jane and taunts me, especially as I’m getting ready to deliver my ball down the lane. There is nothing about what she’s doing that is distracting to me. Side benefit of my job—I know how to focus intensely on the task at hand.

But I ham it up just a bit, pretending to stumble or swing wildly. Bowie Jane howls with laughter each time and joins in on the trash talk. In the end, I barely beat Bowie Jane but the win or loss doesn’t matter.

What matters is we spent an hour laughing and talking and having fun. It was a bonus that Mazzy joined us.

“Let’s get some pizza,” I say.

We remove our ugly shoes and check out before heading over to the restaurant side of the bowling alley. It’s not the best food but Bowie Jane loves their little pepperoni pizza, so I promised her we’d eat here.

An empty booth calls out to us and Bowie Jane slides in next to Mazzy. It’s still early, so we’ve beat the dinner rush. A waitress comes over, leaves us with sticky menus and promises to return with waters.

“I want the pepperoni pizza,” Bowie Jane proclaims.

“Not surprised,” I mutter. She eats it every time we come here but the choices aren’t that grand. When the waitress returns, I settle on a burger and Mazzy orders a salad with grilled chicken on top.

It doesn’t take long for our food to arrive and there is no shortage of things to talk about but we’re interrupted when my phone rings. I tense slightly as I recognize Sandra’s ringtone. I fish my phone out of my pocket and I see she’s called on FaceTime which means she’s calling for Bowie Jane.

Sandra and I do not FaceTime and we barely talk via phone, as I prefer to keep our communications in writing via text or email.

I hand the phone across the table to Bowie Jane. “It’s your mom on video.”

Bowie Jane and Mazzy had been sitting close together and I notice that Mazzy slowly slides away from Bowie Jane to give her space and not be within the frame of the camera.

It makes me anxious when I see the excited look on my daughter’s face as she connects the call and I pray that Sandra will behave as a mom should, not as a petulant woman who didn’t get her way.

“Mom,” Bowie Jane exclaims as the phone connects. I can’t see the screen since she’s sitting across from me but the smile on my kid’s face disappears and I take that to mean that Chet is probably sitting next to her mom.

“Hi, baby,” Sandra coos, and it sounds forced and contrived. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” she says, her little brows drawing inward. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the airport,” Sandra replies, and I glance over at Mazzy who isn’t focused on the phone but rather on Bowie Jane to see her reactions. “Chet and I are getting ready to fly out to Singapore.”

A flash of fury sizzles through me as she wasn’t supposed to leave until week after next and she was going to swing a visit through Pittsburgh to see Bowie Jane first.

“You’re leaving now?” Bowie Jane asks. “But… you were going to come visit next week.”

“I know, baby.” I can’t see Sandra’s face but I can imagine the pouty expression that goes with that overly solicitous tone. “But Chet is needed out there earlier than expected and well… I just don’t like traveling alone, especially to a foreign country, so I decided to leave with him. I wanted to call and tell you how much I miss you and love you, and I’m going to talk to your dad about maybe having you come to visit us here.”

Over my fucking dead body.

“Would you like that?” Sandra asks a mute Bowie Jane. When she doesn’t answer, Sandra’s tone turns icy. “I would hope you’d be happy for Mommy and this new opportunity for me. None of this would be going down like this if your dad—”

That’s it. I snatch the phone from Bowie Jane’s hand and slide out of the booth. I glance back to see Mazzy putting an arm around my daughter who looks absolutely defeated.

I storm out of the restaurant, find an empty corner of the bowling alley, and glare at Sandra on the screen, Chet by her side looking uneasy. “You do not bring the issues you and I have to our daughter. That’s not fair to her and she doesn’t need that pressure. You’re trying to pit her against me—”

“You’re damn right I am because you stole her—”

“I saved her,” I snarl. “I know it, you know it, and the judge knows it. Now, you head out and go seek this golden opportunity that seems to be far more important than your own kid. My only hope is you get your head on straight before you ruin the relationship you have with her. I can’t believe you’re just leaving and not coming to see her first. Totally fucking selfish, Sandra.”

I disconnect, having nothing else to say to the woman.

When I walk back toward the table, I see Mazzy and Bowie Jane, heads bent together in quiet conversation. Mazzy’s expression is one of uncertainty and concern. Bowie Jane looks downtrodden.

I slide into the booth and reach across the table to chuck my daughter under the chin. “Hey, kiddo… you okay?” Her hazel eyes glisten ever so slightly with the threat of tears that I know she’s trying her best to hold in, because she likes to act the tough girl so much of the time. My kid is resilient and strong, but tears are good for the soul too. “And don’t hold back on me.”

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