Prologue
"Ow,"I yell into the empty living room. Isaac's cleats are right in front of the door. I don’t know how many times I’ve told him to put his shoes in the closet. I’ve tripped over them at least every other day.
"Isaac," my dad calls from the kitchen. "Get your shoes out of the middle of the floor." Huh, so he knew my son left his shoes here. He could have told him before I got home. I swear there are downsides to living with my dad. I’m just grateful he was there for me after the divorce.
He runs into the living room and scoops his cleats into his arms before dashing off to his room. "Hello, son." I don’t know why I bother. It’s not like he heard me. His bedroom door is closed before I’m all the way into the living room.
I set my bag on the table by the door and head toward the kitchen. "Hi, Dad."
He's cutting up cucumbers and putting them into a salad bowl filled with lettuce and other vegetables. "Hey, Bug."
"Dad, I'm grown. You don't have to call me that anymore." Not to mention it makes no sense unless you obscure my name to be June. If they wanted to nickname me that, they shouldn't have named me Joan.
"Sorry, Bug," he glances in my direction and grins, "you'll never be too grown for me to stop with the nickname. I'm your dad, it's what we do."
"It's about as annoying as tripping over cleats when I get home." I look toward the back door. "Doesn't he have practice today?"
"Actually, it's a parent meeting. I can take him if you want me to." It's barely February. Why in the world is there already a team meeting? Plus, he has one for school sometime next month. This would be a lot easier if he'd relent and get his license. But he doesn't want to drive, despite me and his dad urging him to. Not that I could afford another car for him, or the insurance, but I'd make it work.
"No, it's fine. I'll change and get ready to go."
"You have time, Bug. Go change while I finish up dinner. We can eat before you go."
There's no use arguing with him. He doesn't like us eating a ton of fast food and prefers meals at the table. It's something we've always done no matter how late or early we'd have to eat because of school activities.
"I'll let the kids know it's almost dinner time and to get cleaned up." I take a step away from the kitchen counter. "Do both of them have practice? Or just him?"
I feel crappy for not knowing, but I'm working long hours to make sure they can do the things they love. Even if it means I can onlyoccasionallycatch their games.
"Just him for tonight," he continues cutting, "but tomorrow night, they both have practice. One of Abby's teammates is going to pick her up for practice and I've got Isaac."
"Thanks, Dad." I have no idea how I would handle any of this without him. After mom left, he never sought out another partner. His only focus was on raising me and making sure I got through school before releasing me into the world on my own. I don't know how I'll ever repay him...for everything.
"That's what I'm here for," he grins at me before sliding the vegetables into a bowl, "I've always got your back, Bug."
This man is ridiculous, but I wouldn't have him any other way.
There's a meeting every season, but this is the first time I've been able to make it. My dad usually brings him, or his dad does. Almost every single kid has both parents in attendance. A small part of me wishes Keith was here so I wouldn't feel out of my element, but he had a dinner meeting. Though, having him here would defeat the purpose of proving to myself I can do these things on my own.
When we were together, he handled most of the sports things. I kept up with the calendar and made sure we were there for practices and game days. Back then I was able to do that because I wasn't working insane hours just to provide for them. I'm sure Keith would give more in child support, but I can't ask that of him. He already goes above and beyond. My friends said we'd never be able to co-parent in a healthy way, but we can. And we are. It took both of us too many years to realize we had become roommates instead of a couple.
"Thanks for coming tonight," the coach breaks into my thoughts, "we won't be here long. I just want to go over the upcoming schedule and fees for the summer."
His wife hands out stapled packets. Isaac is looking over my shoulder to read. Everything is pretty standard with previous years, except when I get to the amount. It's a good thing Isaac can't see my expression. One look and he'd want to quit to keep me from stressing out.
I glance around the room, and I'm happy to see I'm not the only one with sticker shock. A couple of other parents are flipping to the other pages to see why the amount is so much.
The coach must have sensed what the room is feeling because he speaks again, "I know it's more than last year, but the prices of everything are going up. The uniforms went up the most, and we have a few tournaments we'll be traveling a few hours away to attend."
One brave parent raises his hand. "Do we need the full amount up front?"
"The only thing we need up front is the uniforms," Coach glances down at the paper. "I have the cost of everything broken down if you flip to the next page," he takes a deep breath, "ideally, we'd like as many to pay the full amount as possible, but we know not everyone can do that. If you need to make a payment plan, you can see me, or my wife, after the meeting."
The parent who asked nods. But I don't miss his gulp, as he takes in the information.
I turn the page and study the breakdown. It's nice to see where exactly the money is going. It doesn't cure the small panic attack I'm having, though. I don't know how I'm going to pay for this. I can't ask his dad. He's already agreed to pay for school uniforms next school year.
Asking my dad is completely out of the question. He already does so much for us, and charges peanuts in rent just so I can do fun things with the kids when I'm off work.
