Page 35 of Delay of Game
I paced the entryway, checking my watch to find another three minutes had passed.
“We’re going to be late!” I called up the stairs.
“I’m finishing her hair now,” Mom yelled back.
My duffel bag sat beside Mila’s unicorn backpack. I’d checked the inside a half dozen times now, never quite shaking the feeling that something was missing. School supplies, water bottle, lunch, snack, and a toy for show and tell.
“We’re supposed to be there in ten minutes!” I grumbled, not nearly loud enough for Mom and Mila to hear me from Mila’s bathroom on the second floor. Not that they’d listen to me, anyway.
I took a sip from my coffee mug. Room temperature. I’d woken up nearly two hours ago, working my way through my morning stretches and eating a chef-prepared breakfast stashed in my fridge before Mom and Mila even rolled out of bed. I should have woken them up earlier.
With no sign of life on the staircase, I stalked back to the kitchen to top off my coffee. The full pot waited for Mom. She could spare a cup for me. I popped the top off my mug and filled it to the brim, taking a gulp.
“Daddy!” Mila yelled as she stomped down the stairs. “I can’t be late on my first day of school.”
I rolled my eyes, sauntering back to the entryway. “Excuse me? I have been waiting down here for nearly ten minutes.”
“You were in the kitchen.” She planted a fist on her hip, glaring at me through narrowed eyes at odds with the sparkly pink skirt and unicorn t-shirt. Her brown hair was pulled back into two Dutch braids with a pink bow at the bottom of each.
“I needed more coffee. I was tired. From all the waiting.”
“No arguing this early in the morning.” Mom sighed dramatically as she descended the stairs. Unlike Mila and me, Mom hadn’t gotten dressed yet. She hadn’t even taken her hair out of curlers. “Now, out of here, both of you. Or you’ll be late.”
“Love you,” I said on my way out the door.
“Bye, Gigi! I’m going to miss you so much. I love you.” Mila wrapped Mom’s legs up in a hug, head burrowing into her stomach.
Mom patted Mila’s braids carefully before extracting herself. “I love you too. Have lots of fun and make lots of friends.”
“I will!”
I collected our bags while Mila opened the front door, skipping out to my SUV. I loaded her and the bags inside.
“Don’t let me accidentally take you to work, okay?” I teased as I climbed into the driver’s seat.
Mila nodded, her eyes locked on the window and her mouth drawn into a line.
“You okay back there?” I asked, glancing in the rearview at intervals to study her face.
“Mm-hm.” The blessedly silent ride to school showed that she was not, in fact, okay. On a normal day, I answered two dozen questions before leaving the neighborhood.
The car line into school stretched into the street and down the block. Police officers directed traffic from the two separate entrances onto school property, and administration had helpfully set up signs pointing to where “kindergarten drop off” split away from “stop-and-go drop off.”
The traffic inched along to a packed parking lot, and I ran the SUV onto a curb and created a makeshift parking spot on the grass.
“You’ve already been here. There’s nothing new about today,” I reassured her as I helped her with her backpack.
“There are so many people. What if I get lost?”
I bit back a laugh. Mila had traveled with me to watch my games before she had full control of her neck. She led family members and friends through stadiums across the country like a seasoned docent. The tiny crowds of kids were nothing in compared to packed stadiums. But that didn’t make it any less scary for her.
I patted her back. “You got this, kiddo. It’s overwhelming because it’s the first day. By the end of the week, you’ll navigate this school like a pro.”
She grabbed my hand, fingernails digging into my palm as we walked toward the entrance marked “kindergarten.” The trickle of people turned into a tide as we entered the building, packed wall-to-wall with frazzled parents and anxious children. A little girl sobbed into her father’s pants. A brown-haired boy stood in the middle of the busy hallway, eyes wide and glassy, before an adult swept him away.
“I’m glad we got a private tour last week,” I muttered.
In the chaos, I tugged Mila toward Astrid’s classroom. Astrid stood at the door, her face lighting up as she spotted me.
