Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Now that I’m in Pittsburgh, my time with Bowie Jane is precious and rare. Yes, I get her during the summer months, but it’s a long fucking nine months without her. If I’m lucky, I can sneak in a few visits when I’m on the West Coast playing or, in saner times, Sandra would bring Bowie Jane east to Buffalo when we’d play the Wolves. My ex-in-laws live there and while we’re not on the greatest terms, they fully support the efforts Sandra makes to give me just a few extra days a year with my daughter.
There was a time I was so grateful to Sandra for making that effort to travel with our kid so I could see her. But something is off with her lately and I can’t quite put my finger on it.
It started back in April when she bailed on our prearranged agreement to bring Bowie Jane to Buffalo. We’d worked out a deal where our daughter was going to stay with her grandparents until I could get her for the summer, but Sandra was a no-show.
As in, she didn’t show up at all.
Fuck, was I pissed, terrified something had happened to Bowie Jane. Sandra didn’t answer my calls, but her dad eventually caught up with her. Her excuse was that she’d gotten tied up with work and couldn’t make the trip.
I called bullshit on it but there wasn’t anything I could do. I missed out on a quick visit with my kid but nothing else changed as far as my time with her. So I had to wait patiently for my summer break to begin after the playoffs, although once Sandra finally answered my phone call, I lit into her good. She was apologetic but it didn’t sound genuine.
If anything, she sounded… distracted, and that has persisted. The entire summer, Sandra has been flighty. She was going to come visit Bowie Jane on two separate occasions but bailed on each, claiming she wanted to give us as much time together as possible. That was fine with me because I’m greedy when it comes to spending time with my kid, but it wasn’t fine with Bowie Jane. She loves her mother and misses her, and she was severely disappointed.
Sandra didn’t seem to give two fucks though, blowing off Bowie Jane’s tear-filled pleas over the phone to come visit. On top of that, she’s just not communicating with our daughter frequently enough to be of any value.
When I came to Pittsburgh, I made it my mission to have some form of communication with Bowie Jane on a daily basis. I always aimed for a FaceTime call no matter where I was—here or traveling. If that didn’t work, at least a quick phone call. And on those rare occasions where my travel schedule was so hectic and I couldn’t manage one of those, I’d record a video and text it to Sandra to play for our kid.
Every single fucking day.
And yet Sandra only takes the initiative to reach out to Bowie Jane a few times a week. At first, she would call Sandra to fill in the gaps, but as I’d listen to her side of the conversation, I could tell her mom wasn’t fully engaged and she often ended the calls before they’d barely started.
I had my suspicions but Bowie Jane confirmed it.
Mommy had a new boyfriend, and he was apparently taking up a lot of Sandra’s energy, time and focus.
We were eating dinner one night when Sandra called. Their chat lasted no more than five minutes and when Bowie Jane hung up, she huffed out a sigh of frustration.
“What’s up, pup?” I asked.
“Mom’s going to some fancy dinner party and had to go so she could get dressed. She has a stylist coming over.”
That caught my attention because why in the hell would she need a stylist? I asked Bowie Jane that exact question.
She shrugged. “Her new boyfriend makes movies, so he always sends a stylist over with lots of dresses to choose from. And then they do her hair and makeup.”
Admittedly, I was curious. Sandra has dated since the divorce and that doesn’t bother me at all. But the fact she’s dating someone in the film industry grabbed my attention because Sandra has always wanted to be an actress. It’s actually how we met. She had a small role in a TV series being filmed in Vancouver and I’d just been drafted there at the age of eighteen, straight out of the western league of the major juniors.
It was lust at first sight and Sandra got pregnant the second month we were dating. I did what I thought was right and asked her to marry me, hoping that love would grow from it.
And it did. Things were good for a while.
But Sandra never got any other roles and she settled into life as a hockey wife and new mom. I eventually got traded to San Francisco and we built a life there. Sandra was a stay-at-home mom and she did a hell of a job, but our relationship never solidified. Over time, we drifted apart until it seemed we had nothing in common except our daughter. When the divorce was finalized, I was at peace with it and I think she was too.