Page 12 of Delay of Game
"Not if she knows what's good for her," I snorted, clocking the bags under Noa’s eyes. "How's my goddaughter doing? You getting enough sleep these days?"
Noa shook his head with a low, rumbly laugh. "Trying to. My mom flew back home last week and we're divvying up the night duties. I'm getting up with Kalani from eight to midnight and Lena is covering midnight to four."
I winced. "Ouch."
He shrugged. "Good thing she's cute as hell. Tell me it gets better."
"The sleep?" I asked. "Absolutely. But then you'll have other things that'll keep you up: potty training, making friends, going to school."
"All the hits. I can't wait."
"It'll happen before you know it," I sighed.
It seemed like only days since I brought Mila home from the hospital, all red faced and screaming her little lungs out. Home to an empty house, my mind reeling from the sheer amount of information and doctor's names and insurance phone numbers that had come into my life since her birth. And the fact Mila’s mom was still in the hospital.
I shook away the memory and pushed myself off the bench. Fieste was long gone, and only a few players remained, mostly clustered around the bank of lockers reserved for undrafted free agents, hoping to clinch a spot on the roster during off-season.
"How about coming over for dinner tonight?" Noa asked. "With Mila, of course. Lena misses her."
Noa and Lena were not only Mila's godparents, but the closest thing to a nuclear family that she had. Before the birth of their daughter, she'd spent at least one night a week at their house, playing dress up and tea party to her captive audience of two.
"Lena okayed that?"
"She said she'd order pizza and to let you know that the house is a wreck, and she has no interest in cleaning it."
"I'd be offended if she did. Sounds good," I said, relieved to have something to do that evening while Mom went to her book club.
It'd give Mila and me something to do other than rummage around for a snacky dinner and collapse in front of the couch, where Mila would force me to watch the same episode of her newest obsession over and over.
FIVE
ROB
Cars spilledout of the paved parking lot, littering the grass surrounding the massive brick school.
“Looks like we’re going off-roading,” I said, turning left across the opposite lane and into the grass. The car bounced, and Mila giggled in the backseat as I pulled in between two trucks.
“Are we allowed to park here?” she asked, craning her head back toward the school.
“I don’t think a tow truck could get us out, if that makes you feel better,” I muttered, shifting the car into park. “We’re going to be late if we don’t hustle.”
“We’re going to be late?” Mila asked, voice strangled with a frisson of anxiety.
“It’s an optional tour. We aren’t really late,” I said, hoping the lie would placate her. She didn’t want to get out of bed, and I’d shifted my afternoon drills to early morning so I could bring her to the school. Instead of getting home with time to spare, Coach Simmons had cornered me on my way out of the stadium with some questions about the rookies and starting lineup. By the time I’d answered his questions, I’d had to speed all the way home.
I scooped Mila up in my arms, jogging across the street. In contrast to the tiny school I’d attended, Norwalk Elementary District 3 was immense. A single, sprawling building with tendrils that ended in playgrounds.
The front door was locked tight and Mila pointed out a big, red doorbell between the two glass doors. “Oh, can I press it?”
I bent forward until her palm reached the button. She smacked it hard, and the door unbolted with a thunk. A staticky voice called, “Come on into the front office.”
Mila wriggled out of my arms and marched into the front office with a smile. “Mila Grant. I’m starting kindergarten.” She beamed up at the front desk employee, planting her hands on her hips.
The employee pitched forward. “And whose class are you in?”
“Ms. Evans,” I said when Mila’s confidence faltered. I clapped a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
She tapped a button, and another obnoxious beep blared in the room as the door unlatched. “Go through that door and walk down the hall. Kindergarten is the third hallway on the left. Ms. Evans’ classroom is at the end of the hall on the right. I can’t wait to see more of you, Mila.”
