Page 32 of The One I Want
If we do that, then I know I’ll be meant to retire. I don’t think you can have a better end of a career than going out on top. Even if we don’t win, this is it. My body can’t do this anymore. And to be honest, I don’t know if I can do it mentally. Moving to Rolling Hills and relying on my family, and now Betsy, to help with the kids is good for the short term. It’s the best situation to have as I finish out the year. But I don’t want to be an absentee parent. I want to be there for them. I don’t want to be gone for weeks at a time, or even nights like tonight, when the day went long and I’m not there to tuck them into bed.
Nope, this is it. At this time next year, I’ll be spending Thanksgiving with my family, not eating my football season macros then packing a bag for wherever we have to travel to that weekend.
I can’t help but look at everything as I make my way to the new house. As I drive past the high school football stadium, I see the lights on. I smile, remembering night practices that Coach Lockwood used to have. From the looks of it, he still does. Every Tuesday night, we’d have practice under the lights. I don’t even remember how it started. But I am glad to see it still going on.
We loved Tuesday night practices. More specifically, we lovedafterTuesday practices. We’d all hop in Shane’s truck and drive to The Joint. We couldn’t go in because we were under eighteen, but since my uncle owned the place, he’d bring us out wings and burgers and we’d eat in the bed of the truck. The four of us would shoot the shit, complain about school and girls, and just…be.
Those were the days. Fuck if I don’t miss them.
Before I know it, I’m turning into my driveway and pulling into the garage. I don’t get out for a second, needing one more minute to myself.
I didn’t know how I was going to handle today. Do I trust Betsy? Yes. I wouldn’t have offered her the job if I didn’t. But there’s always that worry lodged in your brain that today would be the day that something would happen. And somehow, Betsy knew that. Throughout the day I got updates, setting my mind at ease. First one came from the drop-off line, where each of the kids were making faces. The second came from pickup. Again with the faces, only these ones looked like they had just had the longest, most exhausted day of their lives. I also got a video after school of the three of them doing homework. I know Hank is convinced Betsy has magical powers, and I must say I have to agree, because that’s the only way I can figure out how she got them all to sit and quietly work.
Which means if they were quiet for her, I’m going to get absolute chaos.
I’m just about to get out of the truck when my phone notifies me of a text. I grab it but don’t leave the truck, snatching up the excuse to stay in here for just another minute.
Oliver: Just so you know, Betsy was at the school in plenty of time for pickup and everything went off without a hitch.
Wes: Thanks, man. And thanks for helping the kids get adjusted. I appreciate it.
Oliver: No need to thank me. I meant to tell you, I’m glad you hired Betsy. I can tell she’s going to be good for you guys.
Wes: You mean the kids.
Oliver: Sure, we’ll go with that.
I navigate away from the messages, grab my bag, and start heading inside. At first, I wonder if they are hiding from me because I don’t hear a sound. It isn’t until I’m a few feet from the living room that I hear anything, and that’s the sound of credits from one of their favorite movies.
“What—”
I start to say something but snap my mouth shut when I see them. I don’t want to ruin this moment.
There, on my oversized couch, is Betsy, with all of my kids snuggled around her, everyone sound asleep. It looks like Magnolia nodded off as Betsy was holding her. Hank has decided to use her leg as a pillow. And then there’s Emerson. Her head is on Betsy’s shoulder.
I slowly pull my phone out of my pocket, needing to take a picture of this. I have never been the picture taker of the family. That was all Cara, and while I love the photos and the memories captured, she took them to mostly keep up her social media persona as Mom of the Year. But since she’s been gone, I’ve been trying to remind myself to capture the moments. Even if they are little things. Because once they are gone, they are gone for good.
And I have a feeling I’ll want to remember this moment for a long time.
As soon as I snap the picture, Betsy’s eyes slowly start to blink open. I take a few steps toward the couch, sitting on the edge of ottoman where Betsy’s legs are currently sprawled.
“Hey,” she says quietly.
“Hey to you,” I say. “Rough first day?”
She smiles. Not the full and bright one I have seen many times. No, this is a soft and subdued one. Two words I never thought I’d use to describe Betsy.
“Yeah, I guess,” she says, trying to move but realizing that all of her limbs are currently being used by my children. “We put on a movie after dinner. Guess we fell asleep.”
“What movie did you pick?”
“They found out I had never seenCars. And since I think we fell asleep twenty minutes in, I can still say I haven’t.”
I smile, gently stroking Emerson’s hair off her face.
“You guys can try again tomorrow,” I say. “Let me get these guys to bed so you can free yourself.”
“Thanks,” she says, hugging Magnolia a little closer to her.
