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)
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
He flashes those teeth and my eyes hurt. Turning to Sandra, I nod toward the back deck. “Mind if we talk privately?”
“No, not at all,” she says and pats Chet on the stomach. “I’ll be right back, pooky.”
I almost snort-laugh over the ridiculous endearment but hey… whatever makes them happy. I follow Sandra onto the back deck and when the door is closed behind us, I choose my words very carefully so as not to start a fight.
“Look,” I say, scrubbing my hand through my hair that I’ve let grow longer over the summer. “Bowie Jane was really looking forward to spending some time with you before she starts school next week.”
“And I’m looking forward to spending time with her,” she assures me, a plastic smile on her face.
Time for a more direct approach. “She’s not looking forward to spending time with your boyfriend.”
Sandra’s expression crumbles. “That’s ridiculous. Bowie Jane loves Chet. He buys her stuff all the time.”
“Christ, Sandra… try talking to your daughter for once and stop assuming. She doesn’t like him. And for that matter, she’s totally confused why you’ve been so silent all summer and didn’t come to see her. She’s already putting two and two together and it’s because you want to spend time with Chet, that you’re abandoning her.”
Sandra’s face flushes red and her lips peel back in a snarl. “I am in no way abandoning my daughter and how dare you suggest such a thing. You’re just jealous I have someone—”
“Stop,” I say, holding up a hand. “This isn’t about us. This is about you and Bowie Jane. I can’t make you do anything, but if you want to start making things right with your kid—because she’s very hurt by your absence this summer—then I suggest you send Chet along and you spend the weekend with just her. You two need to reconnect.”
Her mouth opens and closes as if she has something else to say but nothing forms. “I’m going to go help her unpack. I’ve got a little time before I have to head back to the airport.”
“You’re not visiting anyone while you’re here?” she asks.
“Nah. The few who I would have wanted to see are off traveling.” I keep in close contact with a few former teammates, but those bonds loosen when you move to another team. Then I stare at her pointedly. “Think about what I said, okay?”
Sandra nods and I walk back into the house, up the stairs and into Bowie Jane’s bedroom.
Her suitcases remain untouched as she clearly got sidetracked with a bracelet-making kit. She’s sitting at her little vanity, hooking together colorful rubber bands.
“Nice job on the unpacking,” I say, my slightly sarcastic tone earning a dimpled grin. My kid has a sense of humor that matches my own—dry and witty—and far beyond her ten years. If I had to pick one favorite character trait of my daughter’s—and there are so many to choose from because she’s one hundred percent awesome—it would be that she’s funny as hell.
She gives a coy shrug. “I was waiting for you to help me so we could have quality time together.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I use my dad voice. “Put the bracelet down and come help.”
Bowie Jane can be stubborn at times, but for the most part, she’s jovially amenable to tasks requested of her. She pops up from her little chair covered in pink velour and moves to the nearest suitcase.
We work silently for a few minutes, each of us emptying a piece of luggage, but then she asks the inevitable. “What did you talk to Mom about?”
I believe in full transparency with my kid when I can, but there are many times I cannot tell her the truth of conversations with her mom. Some of our fights had nothing to do with Bowie Jane, and others exposed opposition in parenting skills that I didn’t want to use as inadvertent means to pit her against either of us.
But in this instance, I can give her the full truth. “I told her that I didn’t think it was a good idea for Chet to hang with you guys this weekend. That you should just do mommy-daughter time since you’ve been apart for so long.”
Her voice is small and hesitant. “And what did she say?”
“Well,” I hedge, not wanting to throw Sandra under the bus. “I think your mom just wasn’t aware of how much you missed her and want some alone time.”
She turns her back to me, moves to her dresser and slides a stack of T-shirts into the drawer. “So, does that mean Chet is coming with us shopping?”
I wince internally that I can’t give her the reassurances she wants. “I don’t know, baby. But if he does, just try to concentrate on having a great time and how much you love clothes shopping, okay?”