“It’s not about time!” I snap. “It’s about the fifty-million-page contract I just signed. Jonas Records will destroy me if I don’t deliver all I’ve promised them. It’s about leaving Quinn who knows where with another family member before I thinkshe’s ready. I have no idea how I’ll live up to my word when at any second I could lose control again.”
There’s so much there that Summer could unpack. It’s the part I left out that she zeroes in on.
“You wrote the songs.”
There’s awe in her voice that would be flattering if I weren’t freaking out.
“And that’s the problem. The lyrics hit too close to home. I can’t get through them without getting upset.”
She smiles at me.Smiles. “Will you play them for me later? Please?”
I just told this woman I wrote music that causes me a great deal of turmoil, and she asks me to play it for her?
Yet something in her voice… It’s always her voice that has me breaking down my walls and saying, “Yes.”
Cars are spilling out of the parking lot when we arrive at the school. Summer’s too focused on finding a spot to witness her ex-husband in an orange vest and tailored suit directing traffic. The guy looks incredibly pompous.
We’ve had very few interactions. I am no relationship expert. But I can’t see him without passing judgement for the way he treated Summer. It took me one week to figure out how lucky I was to have her taking care of Quinn. He threw it all away over a self-righteous comment about her ability to keep a cat. The fact that his words made her doubt herself… I have no room for patience if he ever tries to approach her again.
“Win-a-wa, Da-eee?” Quinn begs when I get her out of her car seat.
“I don’t have a blanket.”
“Hoe hans?” She reaches her left to me and her right to Summer. Together we count down.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
She sails forward, and the sound of her unrestrained laughter sends a rush of serotonin through my body, easing the stress brought on by today’s events.
We repeat the process a dozen more times before Quinn lets go of our hands to help with the door.
Summer flicks her hair over her shoulder and flashes me a flirty grin. “See… all you need is a good win-a-wa to make you feel better.”
That’s not the only thing that makes me feel better, and she knows it. She yelps when I pat her on the bottom.
Walking into week two, there’s still no teacher assigned to this play. I’d be concerned about that fact if it weren’t for Summer catapulting herself into the role with zero hesitations, corralling kids in a giant circle in the middle of the gym.
Despite her confidence, I can tell she’s running this thing with a don’t-ask-apologize-later policy. I’m hoping by the time Mr. Rogers catches wind of her talent show plan, we won’t have enough practices left to change course.
“First things first, everyone needs a talent,” Summer announces. “Henry, let’s start with you. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, taking the last bite of his peeled banana.
“Well, what do you like to do during recess?” She reframes the question.
Etta pinches her nose. “All he does is talk about stinky reptiles and stuff.”
Several kids snicker.
Henry stares at her. “Reptiles don’t have sweat glands. You stink more than they do.”
