Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 56134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
The twins got an extra-bad break. Jenna got pregnant with them by hooking up with a guy while at a concert in Chicago. When she told our parents about the twin girls she was expecting, she was already four months along and was “pretty sure” the father’s first name was Tim, but that she never asked about his last name.
At least Max has a dad who loves him. Eli Foust was fifteen when he got Jenna pregnant—the same age she was. He was terrified, and his parents insisted he finish high school. And even when he did, he was honest about not feeling ready to be a full-time father at eighteen. He let my parents—and then me—keep Max, but he’s always paid child support and he spends time with his son every Sunday and sometimes on weeknights.
“I’m not going to make you do anything,” I tell Hazel. “You don’t have to be in her pictures or spend any time with her.”
“I don’t want her in our house.”
“I don’t think she has anywhere else to stay.”
Hazel shrugs. “Good. Maybe she won’t come, then.”
“If I tell her not to visit, it’ll be a huge drama. It’s easier to just let her blow into town like a hurricane for a couple days and then blow back out.”
“Easier for who?” Hazel asks bitterly.
That stings. Sometimes, even after ten years of doing it on my own, I’m not sure how to handle this parenting thing. Especially now that the girls are teenagers. Their emotions can turn on a dime.
“Do you want me to tell her not to come?” I ask Hazel as we pull into the parking lot of the Greentree Falls Rec Center.
“Yes.”
“What about Vi? She wants her to come.”
“That’s because she’s a dumbass who doesn’t get what a deadbeat Jenna is.”
“Language,” I remind her, without much conviction.
“I don’t want to see her,” Hazel says firmly. “And Addison said I shouldn’t be forced to.”
The mention of our therapist makes me miss our weekly sessions. My parents left me their entire estate in their will, which wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough for me to stay home and take care of the girls until they started school and pay for several years of family therapy, which was very expensive.
We stayed in their home after my parents died, because it would have been traumatic to uproot the kids at such young ages after losing my parents, who had always been their primary caregivers. After a couple years, I sold their house and bought a more modest one, leaving enough cash to start college funds for all three of them.
“I’d never force you to see her.” I rub my forehead, thinking about how to handle this situation. “Why don’t you stay with Kelly and Ross while Jenna is here?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll have to ask Kelly, but I know she won’t mind.”
“Thanks.”
“So I’ll pick you up right here at 5:45 tonight.”
Hazel lowers her brows in confusion. “You aren’t coming in? You have to be here for the meeting after practice. You said you’d be the team manager, remember? All the parent volunteers are meeting.”
“Oh, right. Okay, I’ll meet you inside then.”
She nods, stepping out of the car and retrieving her giant gear bag from the trunk.
“Have a good practice,” I call out the window as she walks in. “Wear your mouthguard!”
Hazel waves half-heartedly and gives me the look that means OMG stop embarrassing me.
I smile, remembering the days I gave my dad that same look.
Damn, I miss him and my mom so much. They’d know what to do in all the situations with the kids that I struggle with.
“I need to think about it and let you know,” I tell the kids when those situations arise.
What that really means is I have no fucking clue, but I’m trying to at least look like I know what I’m doing here.
They’re good kids, though. Overall, they’re really good. So I must be doing something right.
* * *
A little over an hour later, I’m back at the rec center. I used the time between dropping Hazel off and now to get groceries, prep a roast and get it in the oven, and peel potatoes for dinner.
Every minute counts when you’re a working single parent. I learned early on that if I don’t stay on it during the day, working in small chores when I can, I have to stay up after the kids are in bed and do it, and then I’m dragging the next day. Every day is busy—even most weekends with the kids active in sports.
And yet, I keep volunteering for stuff I don’t really have time for. But Max only has one year of high school left, and the girls are starting high school next year. I want to be as involved as I can before they all leave the nest.