Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Me: Guess who will be getting her first bonus on my next paycheck???
Tess: Girl! I’m so damn proud of you! Congrats!
Me: Thanks!
I set my phone face down on my desk, take another sip of my coffee and put my reading glasses on. The twenty-eight-page contract I have to review will bring my heart rate back down to normal.
Forcing away the anticipation on my boys’ faces when they see the castle at Disney World for the first time, I dive into reading it.
“Did you know there’s a hole in our ozone layer?” Sam asks me that evening over dinner.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell us? We need to help fix it.”
I put my hand over Sam’s much smaller one and give it a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to worry about it, honey. I think the hole is actually getting better.”
“It is, but still...”
He’s my sweet, thoughtful son and also my worrier. The yin to wild man Tate’s yang.
“Can I have a hot dog instead of this?” Tate asks mournfully. “It tastes like puke.”
He pushes his tuna noodle casserole around on his plate with his fork, spreading it out so it’ll look like he ate more of it.
“Okay, that’s not an appropriate comment about dinner, and no. You need to eat at least half of it.”
He groans and covers his face with his hands. Tate would survive entirely on hot dogs if I let him.
“Do you know what hot dogs are made of?” Sam asks, his brow furrowed.
I shake my head. “We aren’t talking about that. Or the ozone layer. Who has homework tonight?”
“I don’t,” Sam says.
“I already did mine,” Tate says. “It was math.”
“Okay, I want to check it over after dinner.”
He tends to only complete the first side of two-sided papers, and he never checks his work. Sam is meticulous. His teachers tell me he helps other kids finish their homework in class because he’s always the first one finished.
“Sam has to write an essay,” Tate says smugly.
“No, I don’t,” Sam fires back. “I’m not doing it.”
I tilt my head in a skeptical look because that’s not like Sam at all. “If it’s a school assignment, you most definitely are doing it.”
“It’s for Cub Scouts and I don’t have to do it.”
Sam glares at Tate, who’s wearing a gloating expression. I’m still confused, though, because Sam never misses an opportunity to get a scouting badge.
I set my fork down. “Let’s back up. You went to your Cub Scout meeting after school today. Is that where you heard about the essay?”
“I don’t have to do it.” Sam’s tone is confrontational, which is unlike him.
Tate jumps in. “The essay is so you can go on a father-son campout. That’s why he doesn’t want to do it.”
“Shut up.” Sam’s face reddens with anger.
My heart breaks. The boys’ dad and I split when they were one year old because he decided being a full-time husband and dad wasn’t for him. He sporadically sends child support and usually sends them cards for their birthday, but he hasn’t seen them in more than a year.
“Is it something I could do with you?” I ask Sam.
He refuses to meet my gaze. “I don’t want to do it.”
I try my best to be everything to them, but I can’t be a dad. It hurts my heart to see the way they cling to male coaches and teachers. They both think Dom is the greatest thing ever, and I know they miss him now that we don’t live at his house anymore.
“I’m sure Dom would go with you,” I offer. “As long as it doesn’t overlap with his hockey schedule.”
Sam picks up his plate and gets up from the table. He dumps the rest of his food into the trash and walks past us to go to his room. The tears in his eyes make me want to cry myself.
“Can I be done?” Tate asks.
I glance at his plate, which has food spread all the way to the edges, and sigh. I’m too tired to fight him.
“Fine. But no snacks tonight.”
He leaps up from the table and dumps his plate, then plops onto the couch in the living room and turns on the TV.
I don’t know if I should talk to Dom about the campout or not. I should probably wait until I talk to Sam about it when he’s not so upset.
During dinner cleanup, I rage internally against Zach, my ex-husband. Our sons deserve a dad who spends time with them. It’s one of the reasons I vowed to be more careful about letting men into our lives. Not only is my ex-husband a deadbeat, but I also briefly dated Jake, who ended up stalking me and scaring the shit out of me, my boys, Tess and her children.
I can’t control Zach, but I can make damn sure any man I go out with in the future knows he has a high bar to clear.