Page 3 of Center Ice
I crack open the bathroom door and a blast of steam hits me in the face. Flicking on the switch for the ceiling fan, I grab a spare bottle of shampoo from below the sink and pass it to him between the shower curtain and the tile wall. “I forgot to set the timer, so I’m giving you two more minutes, and then you need to get out.”
“But I just got in,” he complains.
I hit the buttons on the countertop timer to give him an alert when his two minutes are up. “Yeah, like twenty minutesago. Wash your hair fast. It’s almost time to get ready to go to Jameson and Lauren’s.”
“Okay,” he says eagerly. Lauren’s twins, Iris and Ivy, have been such a welcome addition to our family. Before them, Graham had no cousins, and he’s absolutely flourished in his role as the big cousin. I’ve loved watching their bond develop, and at the same time, it’s always a tad bittersweet because I think he’d be an amazing big brother. However, I wouldn’t want another child unless I was in a happy, committed relationship. Doing the single-parent thing once was unavoidable, but I’m not choosing that path a second time.
There’s only one branch on our family tree. And I was just fine with that until his stupid kindergarten project came home on Friday. It’s Sunday night and I still don’t know what to do about it. I head back downstairs, and I must be deep in thought because Jules takes one look at me and says, “Uh oh, what’s wrong?”
My head snaps up in surprise, and both my sister and Morgan are looking at me with concern lacing their expressions. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Bullshit.” Jules pulls out my seat. “Here, sit and tell us before Graham comes back down.”
I sink into the chair. “Graham has a family tree project for school. I’m not sure how to help him fill out the planning sheet, and I feel like a total asshole about it.”
“Why doyoufeel like an asshole about it?” Morgan asks, and I hear the statement within the question—it’s not like Ichoseto be a single parent.
“Because they’re doing this whole big unit on families, and to the school’s credit, they are trying to be inclusive. They’ve read books about all different types of families, and now the kids are going to create family trees. They sent home several planning sheets so that people could pick out the one that best representstheir family. And you know what type of family tree doesn’t exist? Apparently, the one where you have only one parent, no siblings, and no grandparents.”
Jules’s and Morgan’s lips both turn down at the corners. “Maybe you could talk to the teachers and see if Graham could draw his own family tree?” Jules suggests.
“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t even know what that tree would look like. And every other kid in that class is going to come in with their planning sheets full of names and be able to fill out a normal family tree. My kid is?—”
“Amazing,” Morgan says. “And it doesn’t matter if his family tree has one branch or one hundred, he’s still a great kid. After all, who else can tell you that there are over 130 species of ducks on this planet, or that penguins are the only birds that can swim but not fly?”
I let a laugh bubble up, relieved that my friends and family are always around to ground me when the pressure feels like too much. “That’s true. I doubt many other five-year-olds are as weirdly obsessed with birds.”
“You have to prepare yourself, because this is going to keep happening,” Jules says, as if I don’t know that I’ll be facing this reality indefinitely.
“I’m mostly worried about how the other kids in his class will treat him once they figure out he doesn’t know who his dad is,” I admit. Graham has been relatively insulated because he hasn’t been in school yet, but kids can be so cruel—whether intentionally or unintentionally. I probably need to talk to his teachers and let them know the situation, but the lie I’ve always told—I don’t know who his dad is—was easier when I was saying it to my college friends or perfect strangers…but telling my son’s kindergarten teacher? I don’t want Graham to be known throughout hischichiprivate school as the kid who doesn’t know who his dad is.
“Hey, Mom,” Graham calls as he runs down the stairs. He looks at the table, which was full of food when he went up for his shower after dinner. “Oh, did you guys eat all the food?”
We can’t help but laugh because Jules always cooks enough to feed an army. “No, we just put it in the fridge because we’re going over to Lauren and Jameson’s.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“Really? After everything you just ate?”
“I’m a growing boy,” he says, flexing his non-existent biceps.
“How about if I make you half a sandwich to eat in the car on the way over?”
He nods vigorously, and then Morgan says, “Why don’t you come over here and tell me more about ducks…”
Chapter Three
DREW
Iturn to walk up the driveway toward the backyard and I’m pretty sure I see Mathieu Coltier, the Rebels star goalie, affectionately known by Boston fans as Colt, walk through the gate ahead of me. Colt is essentially a local Boston celebrity, so it’s no surprise he has his baseball cap pulled low across his forehead. Boston can be kind of nuts about their professional athletes.
I pick up my pace, but when I get to the top of the driveway, I don’t see him amid the small crowd of people in the backyard. I thought this was a smaller gathering than it is, apparently. I push the gate open and look around, trying to locate Colt or my agent, Jameson Flynn.
“Hey,” a woman with long red hair says as she walks toward me, “I’m Lauren.”
Oh, so this is Jameson’s fiancée—the single mom who converted him from a confirmed bachelor to a family man.
“I’m Drew. Jameson has said lots of great things about you.”
