Page 83 of Roughing the Player
“You hired mom as a tutor.”
“I did. I wasn’t doing too well in English. Had a problem with Shakespeare. Macbeth to be exact. One of the football players in my team told me about her. So I asked her to tutor me. Every Thursday from six to seven.”
“And you studied the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“When did I happen?”
I drop the empty coffee cup in the dishwasher to give me time to think. Would Ellie like me to answer that question? “You should ask your mother about that.”
“I already did. She won’t tell me.”
Kaylee should know how she was created. If I were her, I’d want to know. So I go with my gut. “I got a B plus on my midterm exam. First time that had ever happened. So I went to her house to celebrate. There was a monster of a thunderstorm that night, violent enough to rattle windows and down trees. When the lights went out, she panicked. She tried to cover it up, but I knew.”
“Mom’s not comfortable in the dark. That’s why we have a whole slew of flashlights around the house.”
“She had one, but the battery was dead. She was so frightened. I put my arms around her to comfort her and . . . ” I’ll leave the rest out. Can’t really discuss the birds and bees with a twelve-year-old.
“You conceived me.”
I nod.
“Was that the only time you two . . . ?”
This is fucking awkward. But she deserves to know. “Yes.”
“Wow.”
Wow, indeed. I push away from the counter. “Do you need a ride to school? I can drop you off.”
“No. I’m good. I take the school bus. But thanks.”
I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder and head toward the front door.
Before I get there, she says, “Brock?”
I turn to face her. “Yes.”
“Mom’s happy now. She wasn’t before.”
I nod. “Thanks for telling me.” I intend to keep Ellie happy. Whatever it takes.
