Page 1 of Luck of the Draw

Chapter One

Dee

“Boys, I’m home!”I called out as I walked through the back door into the kitchen.

“In here,” my mother said, her voice coming from the living room.

I dropped my purse on the kitchen table and headed toward the sound of the TV.

SpongeBob was on the screen, and my two boys were slouched on the sofa, while my mother sat in an armchair, knitting who knew what. She was always making scarves and blankets for me, the boys, her friends, and charities. But my mother had no sense of color coordination, nor was she a very good knitter. She’d given the boys and me sweaters last Christmas, but Liam refused to wear his purple and bright yellow cardigan to school, and Oliver’s left sleeve was five inches longer than his left. Needless to say, many of her gifts were shoved into the backs of drawers and closets.

“How were things tonight?” I asked.

“Good,” my mother said with a smile. “They both did their homework and ate their dinner and had their showers. I told them they could watch some TV before they went to bed.”

“No one watches TV anymore,” my thirteen-year-old son, Liam, said in a bored tone, leaning his elbow against the sofa arm, his chin on his hand. “They watch YouTube. And TikTok.” But he kept his gaze on the scene of SpongeBob taking a boating test.

“Ollie, did you study for your spelling test tomorrow?”

“Yep,” my ten-year-old son said, then looked up at me. “I’m hungry.”

My mother laughed. “That boy must have a hollow leg. He had three hot dogs and two helpings of mac and cheese for dinner.”

I placed my hand on his damp head. “Must be a growth spurt.”

Thankfully, I still had Liam’s old clothes, so he wouldn’t need a whole new wardrobe. My soon-to-be ex-husband was barely current with his child support and refused to contribute anything “extra.” Like clothes were extra.

“Want me to make you a peanut butter sandwich?” I asked. That was the plan for my dinner.

“Yes, please.”

I smiled down at him. He was still sweet and unsurly, but I knew those days would be ending soon.

Mom got up from her chair and followed me into the kitchen.

“You need more for dinner than peanut butter and bread, Dee,” she chided.

I pulled the peanut butter jar and bread out of the cabinet. “I’m exhausted, Mom, and the thought of a hot dog makes me want to hurl.”

“Another bad day at the phone bank?”

I made a face. My mother knew my job was telemarketing—cold-calling people to sell them rip-off Caribbean cruises—but she liked to dress it up by calling it a phone bank. “The same as any other day.”

My Monday to Friday, 11-7 schedule was horrible. The ten dollars an hour sucked, and trying to convince people to sign up for scammy cruises was a blow to my integrity. But integrity couldn’t buy hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. Nor could it pay the mortgage on a three-bedroom house I could afford less every time the property value was reassessed. I was hoping to avoid selling before the end of the school year so the boys wouldn’t have to switch schools mid-year, because I already knew I couldn’t afford another home close enough for them to go back, but it would be tight.

“You could always move in with me,” Mom said in a know-it-all tone as she stuffed her knitting into her bag.

This was not a new topic of conversation. We’d been having it since my asshole ex left us to move in with his pregnant girlfriend and her two kids early last fall.

I forced a smile. “Once again, thank you for the offer, but we’re fine.”

“You’re notfine,” she said with a frown. “You’re barely treading water, and if you lived with me, I wouldn’t have to come over three or four days a week to watch the boys.”

More guilt heaped onto a seemingly endless pile. If I’d been a better wife, Randy wouldn’t have cheated. If I’d only lost that last fifteen pounds after Ollie was born, he might have been more attracted to me. If I were a better cook, maybe my boys wouldn’t only see their father every Tuesday night and every other weekend.

I rested my hand on the counter. “I’m sorry, Mom. You know I’m trying to find a different job. I have an interview next Monday. An admin job at a doctor’s office.”

Her eyes widened. “How are you qualified for something like that?”

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