It takes me ten full minutes to get them back in the truck, each into their booster seats, which are wedged into the backseat in a way I don’t really understand. At first, I accidentally put Daffy into Aster’s seat, and then Chrys into Aster’s seat, but the kidsare good sports about it, giggling and rearranging themselves into the right spots so I can buckle them in.
When I see the library at the end of the street, it’s almosttooobvious, and I laugh under my breath, turning into the lot and cutting the engine so we can go inside.
“Aster! Daffy! Chrys!” the librarian at the front smiles and waves to them when we come in, and when her eyes dart to me, the smile falters.
“This is Jake!” Daffy says, grabbing my hand territorially, almost like she can see the question in the librarian’s eyes.
“Friend of the family,” I say, clearing my throat. “Lara was running late from work today.”
“Oh, that poor thing, working the feet right off her body. I’ve never met anyone who needed a spa day more than her,” the librarian says, shaking her head. “Are you guys here for story time?”
At the mention of story time, the triplets promptly forget about drawing, and we shuffle into a large, colorful room in the children’s section, where another librarian reads to them for half an hour about dragons and other monsters who are really just misunderstood.
I sit in the back with the other parents, and when I catch one of the moms looking at me curiously, I wave and point to the triplets.
When story time is finished, we move to a craft table surrounded by books, and I sit on a tiny chair with them, really getting into the process of coloring a page. We’re there for a few minuteswhen someone says my name, the voice like a wormhole sending me right back to high school.
“Bradson?”
I sit up, turn around, and look right into the face of my old hockey coach. How is it that I’ve been in town for weeks, and only on the day I pick up the triplets I’m running into people I know?
“Hey, Coach,” I say, standing up from the table and feeling the triplets’ curious eyes on me.
“Been a while, huh, son?” he asks, crossing his arms and looking me up and down.
Sensing we’re into an adult conversation, the kids turn back to what they’re doing, and I note the way my old coach has aged — gray hair gone bald, arms and legs thinner than I remember, belly more pronounced.
“Yeah, it has. How has the team been doing?”
In stilted, sometimes awkward phases, we talk about the team’s performance, how they almost made it to the semi-finals, and how he’s been looking for an assistant coach for two years now.
I think he might say something to me about it, and I might have to figure out how to turn him down politely, but then he says something I wasn’t expecting.
“Yeah, missus wants me to retire, so I put in my notice just this last year. I think they’re having a hard time finding someone to take over. It’s not an easy job.”
Memories flash to mind of him screaming at us, throwing fits, his clipboard flying through the air at every minor mistake.
For the first time in my life, it occurs to me,I could be a better coach than that.
“Is that so?” I ask, and for the rest of the conversation, I’m thinking about all the things I would do differently than him.
Eventually, his grandkid runs up to him and declares it time to go, and he slaps his business card in my hand, saying it might be good for the guys he coaches to talk to a pro like me. I take it and sit back down with the triplets, who thankfully don’t ask me a single question about the interaction.
By the time my phone rings in my pocket, I’m wearing a green mask Aster made for me, Daffy’s purple bracelet around my arm, and two big pink stars stuck to the top of my sneakers by Chrys.
“Jake, hey! I just got off work. I just realized you probably didn’t have anywhere to take the kids?—”
“We’re at the library,” I say, watching their faces light up when they realize I’m on the phone with their mom. “We can meet you at home.”
CHAPTER 27
LARA
Two days after I got stuck at clinicals, I’m just about to get off my shift when I get a text from my mom.
Mom:Hey, honey, the kiddos are already asleep here. Why don’t you head on home and we can bring them over in the morning?
I chew on my bottom lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard. I should tell her no, that it’s my responsibility to take them, and seeing them after a long day always cheers me up. But there is also something appealing about the idea of going home and throwing my feet up.
