Page 31 of Mom Ball

“Okay . . .”

My stomach swirls. I don’t like where this is going.

“Here’s the deal. I can represent the coach spot at the draft.”

“What!” Now it’s my turn to yell in the phone.

“Hear me out. Once we get a team, we’ll see who’s got good dads and make them the coaches.”

“I don’t know, Morgan. What if you get stuck coaching?”

“You think they’ll let me be a head coach?” She snort-laughs.

“If they wouldn’t, then what makes you think they’ll let you do the draft?”

“Because I’m bringing someone more respectable with me.”

“Who?”

I can almost hear her smile over the phone. “No, no, no.”

“Yes, for Timothy. You have to. Just tonight, okay?”

I sigh and ball my hand into a tight fist. Good thing I’m on the phone, or I’d be tempted to punch her.

* * *

Against my better judgment, I pull up to the elementary school gym a few minutes before six. Morgan, who’s usually late, is waiting for me by her van, a huge grin plastered across her face.

“You won, I’m here.” I sigh as her grin grows.

At least I had a little time off work to pick up Timothy and get him settled doing homework at my parents’ house. Morgan must have just left work, because she’s still wearing her red shirt with the Pig head on the back.

She struts to the gym entrance and opens the door for me. I walk in cautiously like I’m entering a hostage situation. There’s a lone table set up in the center of the gym and only the middle row of fluorescent lights is on. Hostage situation is an eerily accurate metaphor.

Footsteps come from the side, and we both turn our heads to Jeffrey across the gym. He flips on the rest of the lights.

“Ladies, welcome. The men will be here shortly.” He motions to the table with chairs around it. “Have a seat at the table.”

I give Morgan a cautious glare, then follow her to the table. It’s so quiet, we can hear the lights warming. The chair squeaks on the floor when I pull it back.

Morgan reclines in the chair beside me and pulls out her phone. She’s content with scrolling Facebook, then complains when there isn’t enough cell service for her to comment on a post.

We sit in silence for about two more minutes. Mainly because I don’t care to know any more than I have to about the draft. I’m here for moral support only.

Footsteps and low talking come from the door. I turn to five men, Jeffrey and Bubba included, walking our way. I lean toward Morgan as they get closer. “How many extra kids did you add?”

She bites her bottom lip and stares at the lights, then back at me. She shrugs.

“I know of like five, but Tami said she put something on TikTok about it.”

I drop my head to the table.

“Ladies.”

I raise my head to the men joining us at the table. Other than Jeffrey and Bubba, I only recognize one more. He blushes and looks away when I make eye contact. I would too. My only memory of him was when I worked the emergency room and he came in for a rash. It was poison ivy on places the sun doesn’t shine.

Let’s just say I bet he’ll look twice before he poops in the woods again.

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