Page 7 of The One I Want
“Sporadically. We tried to call a few times, but she never picks up. I can’t take their faces when that happens, so we’ve given up. If she wants to call and check in, she will.”
“She won’t,” my dad grumbles with a dark look. “I can’t believe it took her this long to show her true colors.”
Dad has never been a fan of Cara. Maybe the first few years in college, but definitely not since we got married. He always called her selfish. Told me I was an idiot for buying her expensive purses and presents. I always denied it and told him he was crazy. Looks like I was the crazy one.
Before either of them can ask me anything else, Hank busts through the door, candy bag in hand. “Dad! Look! Gram got us candy bags! And they already have candy in them!”
“Awesome, buddy!” He runs over to show me. And in true Peggy fashion, not only did she get them bags, but she got them ones to coordinate with their costumes: a Harry Potter themed bag for Hank, who is currently obsessed with all things Hogwarts; aTangledbag for Magnolia; and because Emerson is Emerson, an Addams Family bag for Wednesday Addams.
“You ready, kids?”
They don’t even answer my dad as they race down the driveway and make a left toward the house my parents own and rent out.
“Kids, keep going. No one is there.”
“Yes, there is,” Dad says. “Rented it last month.”
I look over to mom. “Really? To who? And why didn’t you tell me?”
She just shrugs, which is sending up a hundred warning bells. My mother tells me everything. Hell, she’s lived with me for the past month. How did this never come up? “Oh. I must have forgotten. Yes, a nice young girl moved in. A friend of Whitley and Jake. She’s just the sweetest.”
Mom takes a few larger steps to get closer to the kids while Dad and I hang back.
“What’s that about?” I ask with suspicion.
He shakes his head. “I quit trying to figure out your mother years ago.”
He might say that, but my dad knows my mom better than anyone. They were high school sweethearts. Hell, I’ve seen my dad still giving my mom an ass slap or a kiss when they think no one is watching.
“So, it’s been a big month for you,” Dad says.
“You could say that.”
“How are you dealing with everything? And none of thatI’m finebullshit.”
I shrug. “Day by day.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What’s the plan?”
I give him a look. “What do you mean, ‘what's the plan?’”
“The plan. You being hurt actually helped since it allowed you to not travel in the first few weeks after she left. And then you had the bye week and a home game. Between Peggy and that, you were able to make it work. But in four days you have to leave for an away game. What’s your plan?”
Fuck. How did I not think of that? I’ve been so focused on just getting through one day at a time that I didn’t think of when I was gone.
“Can they stay with you?” I ask. “I can drop them off Saturday morning before we leave.”
“Of course. I was hoping you would ask. But just remember, this is a short-term fix. No matter what I think about Cara, she’s gone. And with your retirement coming up, the plans you made a few months ago might not be the ones that are going to work now. Think about that. Because you have to assume it’s just you and the kids from here on out.”
And there they are. The Henry Taylor words of wisdom. I knew I wasn’t going to leave here tonight without some sort of life advice.
“Thanks, Dad.” He gives me a pat on the back as the kids turn to go up the sidewalk to the rental house. I’m only half paying attention—part of my brain is trying to be in the moment for my kids while the other half is now frantically trying to figure out if I missed any other glaring things I need to take care of. That’s why at first I don’t notice the woman on the front porch.
“Trick or Treat!”
