Page 104 of The One I Want
“Everyone on the dance floor!” the DJ—also known as Oliver—announces. “Let’s see who has the better moves, the kids or parents!”
Betsy pulls me out onto the dance floor, and to my surprise, all my kids join us. Luckily, it’s a line dance with very clear instructions of how many jumps to take, which direction to walk, and when to clap.
I hold Magnolia’s hand, making sure she’s going the right way. Hank is between Emerson and Betsy, doing his best to keep up. I passed a lot of things onto my son. His love for learning and football. My gray eyes. And apparently my dance moves.
“I hate to ask this,” Betsy says as we change direction.
“You need video?”
She nods. “Do you mind? It would be great to have a video with all three kids in it. Unless you want to be in it too and then I can ask someone else.”
I shake my head and give her a quick kiss. “I’m meant to be behind the camera. Give me your phone. I got this.”
I pass Magnolia to Betsy as I take her phone and open the video camera. I’ve done this a few times, so I know Betsy is going to ask for multiple videos from multiple angles. I learned after the first time if I don’t do it right, she’ll just have me do it again.
I’m nothing if not thorough.
I begin walking around them as I hit the record button, videoing Betsy and the kids as they dance around in their coordinating blue outfits. Luckily, I have some room, so I’m able to get each angle a few times, making sure she has plenty of options to pick from.
I exit the video app when a text notification pops up on her phone. It’s from her dad and it’s staring me right in the face.
Dad: Did you not take the interview? Call me immediately.
I read the text message again, confused about what the hell he’s talking about. First of all, I didn’t even know she was in contact with her father. And what interview? She didn’t tell me about any interview.
She must see the confusion on my face, because she tells the kids to head back to their friend group before making her way to me.
“What’s the matter?”
I turn her phone and hold it up to her. “Want to explain this?”
She reads it and shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”
She looks around as frustration grows on her face. “Not here.” She takes my hand and pulls me out of the gym. We turn into a hallway, giving us at least a semblance of privacy.
“Why are you in contact with your dad, and what interview is he talking about?”
“Calm down,” she says.
“Don’t tell me to calm down.”
She stands up a little straighter. “I’m telling you to calm down because this is nothing and I don’t want it to be something.”
“Then explain.”
“I’m trying.” She takes a deep breath, which I should probably do too. But I’m too thrown by this to think rationally. “A few weeks ago, I got an email from a media company in Alabama. They offered me an interview to come work for them as a content creator.”
“How could you not tell me!”
“Let me finish,” she says with a bite. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t even consider it. For one, my dad arranged it, and I don’t want anything from him. That’s why he texted me about it, I’m sure, because he’s probably pissed I didn't respond to one of his golf buddies.”
“You didn’t respond?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t. Besides the whole dad part of it, the job is in Birmingham. I’m not leaving you or the kids for some job I don’t even want.”
“But isn’t making content what you want to do? Why would you not even consider the job? We should have talked about this.”
