Friday, February 20, 2015
Itasca, Minnesota
After the game, Evan ruffled Caden’s sweaty hair and pulled him into a bear hug. “Proud of you, son.”
Caden pulled back, trying for cool in front of his teammates, who were whooping and shouting and high-fiving all around. They’d beaten the Rams 5 to 3, adding another notch to their belt in the rivalry and edging closer to State. “I was hoping I’d get a goal so you could see me.” His cheeks were pink from exertion.
“Next time, Cade. Next game, or the game after that. I’ll be here.”
Caden smiled, shook his hair out of his eyes, and headed for the locker room with his teammates, the chunk-chunk sound of their skates filling the cinder-block hallway.
Standing beside Evan, Molly watched her son go, feeling strangely overwhelmed. The little-boy pride of Caden; the seeming necessity of the connection between father and son. Why did it surprise her so much?
Maybe she had gotten used to thinking her son was just hers.
As Caden disappeared around the corner, Molly glanced up at Evan, trying to think what to say—something constructive; oh, she was going to try!—but he just looked down at her, shook his head slightly, took a few steps away, and pulled out his phone to make a call. As if he hadn’t been moved at all by the moment with his son.
She was ashamed at her relief; felt some aggravation, some sorrow.
And then she thought: Friday night, past ten on the East Coast. A girlfriend?
Well. Molly didn’t care about that.
She took out her phone, too.
Nothing.
Odd that Liz hadn’t texted to ask about the game. She’d sent a message earlier saying that, much as she wanted to come, she just didn’t feel up to the drive into town tonight. Give Caden a hug from me! Go, Hawks! Very odd. Liz had missed only one other home game of Caden’s all season, when she’d decided against driving into town in a snowstorm, and she’d texted Molly constantly throughout it, asking for reports.
Was she avoiding Evan? Or maybe—more likely—just exhausted from the week, from all the worry about Cecily. Molly wouldn’t bother her anymore tonight, not even with a text. With Cecily in the hospital, no way would Liz have her phone turned off, and any slight noise could wake her.
Molly slid her phone back into her pocket, noticing that Evan was still some distance away, with his back turned; still on the phone with someone.
Yep. Definitely a girlfriend.
Later, back at the blue bungalow, Caden sliced open the box on the kitchen counter that had arrived that afternoon from Ancestry. They’d all gone out for pizza, Evan had driven them home, and Molly had been so enjoying watching and hearing Caden fill his father in on his life—she’d learned quite a few things, it was embarrassing to admit—that she’d invited Evan to come inside to watch the “ceremonial” package opening. He’d been fussing since he’d learned about Liz having paid for the test kits, swearing that, the minute he saw her, he was going to write her a check. And now he was going on about how maybe they’d learn something about his ancestors, too. Was his father really 100 percent French, as he’d liked to brag? Had his mom really had an ancestor who’d come over on the Mayflower?
Leave it to Evan, Molly thought, to make everything about him.
“What’s it say, bud?” she asked, as Caden pulled out a brightly colored instruction sheet.
“It’s just about how to do the samples and stuff.”
“Oh, great! You know, I can probably get Grandma Cecily’s tomorrow, when I go to the hospital to see her. And Mom’s, too. Then we could get them shipped out on Monday. If it takes the full eight weeks to get the results, it’s already going to be cutting it close, with your due date of April 24. I mean, hopefully they’ll come sooner, but we’d better plan for worst-case, don’t you think?”
A shrug.
Molly sighed, avoiding looking at Evan, though she felt his eyes on her like an old question. He probably thought she was overmanaging Caden—but he had no idea, none, what it took to be a single parent. The deadlines, schedules, meals, laundry. The little heartbreaks that happened every day and needed to be soothed.
“You guys want some ice cream?” she said, evading. Another tactic she would’ve told her clients was not effective, but, whatever, it was almost ten o’clock at night.
“Sounds great,” Evan said, and she got out the bowls and spoons and the Cherry Garcia from the freezer and started dishing it up, while Evan and Caden talked about the game.
It was nice, actually. This little domestic scene. Hearing Evan give Caden little tidbits of advice on stick handling, defense, the importance of sharpening his skates—
But, no. Wait. She couldn’t go down this road. Fall into a comfort she hadn’t even realized she’d been missing. That was the last thing she wanted to do.
She put the bowls of ice cream in front of the two males she loved most in the world and told them to hurry up and eat. “It’s late, bud, and your dad’s got to get over to Grandma Cecily’s house and get settled in. You two can spend the whole day together tomorrow, all right?”
Caden looked at his dad with a flash of uncertainty, but Evan was looking at Molly with an old familiar smile that said she’d just given him the world—and Molly’s stomach started to hurt again at the sight of it, though she had no idea why.