Page 26 of The One I Love
We share a smile as he takes a seat. “Everything go okay last night?”
“Yup,” he says. “Nothing to report. I worked on my project for government, and Mariah snapped her friends until her thumbs fell off. I heated up the leftovers for dinner, and we went to bed at a reasonable hour.”
“Luke. It was Friday night. You shouldn’t have been doing homework. You know I don’t mind if a friend comes over to hang out.”
He shrugs. “It needed done. I wanted to get on top of it.”
“So responsible. One of these nights I’m going to get home from work and you’re going to be throwing a rager.”
“First of all, no one calls them ragers. Second, you know if that happened it would be Mariah, and I’d be the one trying to clean up.”
I stand and walk over to give him a hug, which he doesn’t even fight anymore. He knows his efforts are futile. “And that’s why I love you.”
My schedule has its pros and cons. As a nurse in the emergency room, I work three days a week, but twelve-hour shifts. I used to have to get a sitter, but since Luke got his license last year, he’s stepped up. In fairness, both kids have. They came up to me as a united front and said that they were old enough to be responsible for themselves on the nights I had to work. Luke runs Mariah where she needs to go, and they both help keep the house clean. Their grades haven’t dropped in the slightest and my house has never looked cleaner.
I know every mom says this, but I have the best kids in the damn world. My daughter is fierce and determined. A leader. She likes what she likes and doesn’t hold back. She will tell anyone what’s on her mind and what she thinks of you. She also has the biggest heart of anyone I know. That also means that if you break it, you’ll pay.
Then there’s my son. My gentle, sweet boy. He’ll help anyone who asks and will go out of his way to make sure things get done. He’s a straight-A student and every teacher he’s ever had has told me that they want a million Lukes in class. He’s mature for his age. He’s helpful, considerate, and responsible. I don’t know how I’d navigate life without him. My boy is growing into the best kind of man, and I have everyonebuthis father to thank for that.
“Mariah! I told Wes and Betsy you’d be there at seven-thirty! Hurry up! You don’t need perfect makeup to babysit!”
“I’m here, Mom.” She might be here physically, but my daughter already has her nose buried in her phone.
“Who could you possibly be texting this early?”
“Gabby got a snap from Connor, and she doesn’t know what it means, so we’re trying to figure it out. She’s goingto see him today, and she doesn’t know if he’s trying to flirt with her or if he’s messing with her. He asked her what she was doing. What could that mean?”
“It means eat your bagel so we can get going.”
My daughter gives me a teenage huff and sets her phone down. She’s a good kid, but the teenage angst phase that we’re beginning is about to be my least favorite time of her life.
“Okay. Let’s review the day.”
Most mornings start like this. If we don’t have a morning huddle, we’re off our game. This is where we make sure we know where we’re going, that they know what my work shift is, and anything big and upcoming that needs reminders. It might not be the most efficient way of staying organized, but it works for us.
“I have baseball practice this morning, then I’m working until four.”
I hate that my son has a job in high school, especially when he does so much for me. But when Knox—my brother’s best friend—opened his own auto body shop a few years ago, my gearhead kid begged me to work there. The day he turned sixteen, Knox hired him to come in one day a week during the school year and three days a week during the summer.
“And I’ll be at Uncle Wes’s and Betsy’s all day with Emerson. We get to be in charge.”
Luke working worried me because I didn’t want him to stretch himself too thin. Mariah working as a babysitter worries me because I’m pretty sure one day she’s going to organize the masses and either start a riot or a cult, depending on whichever one she can convince to wear better clothes. The only saving grace is that Emerson—Wes’s daughter—will be there, who’s twelve going on thirty. The two are best friends and couldn’t be more different. Between the two of them, they are morethan capable of watching Wes’s younger children, Hank and Magnolia.
“Sounds good,” I say as my phone starts ringing. I can’t hold in my groan when I see the name on the screen.
“That’s code for Dad’s on the phone and she doesn’t want us to hear the names she calls him.”
I point my finger for them to leave as Luke snickers at Mariah’s comment. Though she’s not wrong. “Go.”
As soon as the kids are out of earshot, I let out a deep breath as I hit answer. “Good morning, Paul.”
“Mel.”
I hate it when he uses that nickname. He was the only one to ever call me that. At first I thought it was cute. Then I realized after a while he was probably just too lazy to use more than one syllable.
“What do you want?”
Paul never just calls to call. There’s always a reason. Or he needs something. He used to call to tell me why he couldn’t pay child support that month. Lately it’s been why he’s going to forfeit his weekend. My guess is he has a new girlfriend, and he can’t be bothered with things like being a father.
