There’s a sadness in her voice as she talks about her younger days, so I hurriedly change the subject. “Are you married? Any children?”
“I am. We couldn’t have any children because of something that happened to me when I was a teenager. It’s okay, though. My husband and I are very content with it being only the two of us.”
I believe her when she says that. I don’t know why, but I see true happiness in her eyes as she talks about her husband and their marriage. Knowing they likely can travel far more than Connor and I can because of the girls, I imagine she could be happier than me.
Not that traveling the world is better than having two wonderful daughters. I don’t mean that at all. It’s just that without children, I bet Kelsey and her husband get to enjoy a lot more freedom than Connor and I do.
“Do you travel much? I always think when the girls go off to college that we’re going to go to Europe. My husband isn’t entirely convinced he wants to yet, but it’s Europe, for God’s sake. I mean, Italy itself is reason enough.”
Kelsey shrugs. “Not a lot. My husband would love to, but I’m not a good traveler.”
As she finishes her answer, she covers the scar on the right side of her face with her hand. I have the feeling she doesn’t like to travel because that would mean strangers reacting to her deformed face. I understand that. Fear of the unknown that can be a formidable opponent to living the life you want.
Before I can say another word, she stands up and gathers her coffee cup and napkin that came with her chocolate chip cookie. “I’m sorry, but I have to go now. I hope we can share a coffee another time, Jamie.”
Sure my question about her traveling is the reason she’s in such a hurry to leave, I nod excitedly. “Absolutely! I’m going to be stopping in here more now that I have a couple hours to kill when the girls are at gymnastics practice.”
Kelsey smiles and nods her head. “Great! Then I look forward to seeing you again.”
She leaves me feeling like I want to apologize for asking a question that bothered her so much. Since I can’t, I’ll be sure to look for her when I come here again.
It’ll be nice to have another person to pass the time with.
CHAPTER TWO
Connor
The girlssqueal and shout outside in the pool as I try to read the news on my phone. Nothing but garbage. Doesn’t anyone do anything good anymore? Why does it always have to be murders and people hurting one another? I’d kill for a story that involved someone fucking smiling.
Jamie putters around in the kitchen a few feet away from me making snacks for our daughters and their friends. This day is a celebration for both girls after both finishing in the top spots at practice this week. They’ve talked about nothing else but that and this party today since their mother suggested a celebration was in order. Four days of nonstop chatter about it, and then their mother jumps in with her ideas on how great the two of them did compared to the other girls.
It's enough to make a man wish he had a son or two to even things out.
That’s not possible, unfortunately, but I still wish for it from time to time. Reality at the moment, however, is I have a beautiful wife who’s given me two lovely daughters, and whenI’m not trying to drown out their yelping and hollering, I’m the most grateful man in the world.
“Honey, do you think three bags of chips will be enough?” my wife asks, tearing me out of my thoughts.
I look up and shrug. I have no idea if three bags of chips will be enough for eight girls. Aren’t they athletes? Should they even be eating chips? The thousand dollars I spend each month on gymnastics makes me wonder if my wife should have picked up some protein bars for them instead.
“Well, I thought it would be enough, but now as I stand here listening to them having such a good time out there, I wonder if they’re going to be hungrier than I anticipated when I was standing in the junk food aisle at the store,” Jamie says, punctuating her statement with a heavy sigh.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” I say as I sneak a glance down at my phone and some story about a local woman who found a shell estimated to be worth ten thousand dollars.
For a shell? What the hell kind of shell is it? Did someone famous used to own it, or is it from the time of the dinosaurs? Christ, why don’t I ever find shit like that?
“I don’t know,” she says, continuing this conversation. “Maybe I should run to the store and get more. I do have a bag of pretzels and some of those pizza bagels the girls love. Well, Cassandra loves them. Danielle only picks at them every time I make them for sleepovers.”
Already, I’ve heard enough about how much my two daughters eat. Neither one of them is more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. I doubt they need as much food as my wife thinks they do. As for the other kids, I don’t care. Let them go back to their own homes to eat if they don’t like what we’re serving here.
I don’t dare say that to my wife. She’ll practically fall apart at the mere mention of not caring about what six pre-adolescentsthink. Then she’ll give me the lecture on how important it is for the girls’ success in gymnastics for them to be seen in a positive light, and the best way to do that is to have their teammates over as often as possible and show them a wonderful time.
It’s keeping up with the Joneses on a level even the most ridiculous social climber could never imagine.
She acts as if they’ll be ostracized if our house isn’t nice enough and we don’t entertain the little darlings to their hearts’ content. Jamie nearly had a conniption one time when I mistakenly used the downstairs bathroom while three of their little friends were over one Saturday night. With tear-filled eyes, she explained I should have used our bathroom off our bedroom if I had to go. I wanted to ask if the little darlings are too delicate to deal with the faint scent of a man having used the toilet, but I did what I always do when my wife starts in on one of her things.
I nodded and smiled before kissing her cheek and walking away. There’s no point in fighting with her on most of her crazy ideas. I’d only end up getting a long, drawn-out lecture about how I don’t care about my daughters’ well-being and happiness.
“Whatever you think is best,” I mumble as I scroll through the sports section of the news.
