20. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Jemima
I pick up Chad from Molly’s after letting him sleep in. The sun is warm as we drive home. Once we get inside the apartment, I tackle the housework with new energy. Then we head to the local shops, indulging in some freshly baked bread to celebrate last night's success.
Back home, Chad and I decide to build a fort. We drape blankets over chairs and inside we spread out his Legos to build an entire village. We laugh and talk as we play. This is my favorite time of the week, simply being with Chad and playing with him. The joy on his face as he builds is infectious. I realize how much I’ve missed moments like this, just being here with him, without the weight of work or worries clouding our time together. For so long, I’ve been caught up in making ends meet, but now, I can finally relax and just be a mom.
After lunch, Chad suggests we go play some basketball, but I have an idea.
“Where are we going?” he asks from the back seat of the car, his eyes wide with curiosity.
“You’ll see soon,” I reply, a smile playing on my lips.
His favorite music fills the car, and the upbeat tunes have him dancing in his seat. But barely five minutes later, he asks, “How much longer?”
“We’re almost there,” I reassure him, my excitement mirroring his.
I pull up outside a pristine basketball court in one of my dream suburbs, where the surrounding apartments are sleek and modern.
“This is so cool, bro,” Chad exclaims, running toward the court.
“I’m your mom, not your bro,” I remind him with a laugh.
He races across the court, and I decide to join him in a game instead of sitting on the bench. The sun shines brightly down on us, and as we play, I realize it’s not as easy as it looks. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I’m grateful for the shorts I have underneath my sweatpants. Since my weight loss, I usually don't show off my legs because I'm self-conscious of how thin they are. Stress and minimal food have taken a toll on my body, my curves disappearing.
I grab a big drink of water, glancing over at Chad to check on him. Next to him, I recognize the glistening chest, squared jaw, and piercing blue eyes.
Harvey.
He throws me one of those wicked smiles that makes my knees weak. His eyes drop over me, lingering just long enough to make my skin tingle. I stiffen, wishing I’d thought to throw on my sweatpants. His eyes trail back up, meeting mine again, and instead of the repulsiveness I feared, there’s intense heat.
I make my way hastily to Chad, standing behind him, using him as a shield.
“Mom, look! It’s Harvey.”
“I see,” I murmur, my stomach twisting in ways I can’t quite decipher.
Harvey smirks as his eyes dance. “It’s me.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the corner of my mouth from twitching. He sees it and laughs.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Running, but I figured that was obvious.” He gestures to his sneakers, running shorts, and the earbuds hanging out of his ears.
He’s such a smartass, but his cocky grin makes it hard to keep a straight face.
“Do you want to play?” Chad holds out his ball toward Harvey.
“Hey, I’ve been good, haven’t I?” I say, pretending to be offended.
“Mom, you're trying, but Harvey’s better,” Chad says innocently.
“Ow,” Harvey chuckles under his breath. “I really want to play now,” he teases. “Especially since your mom sucks.”
Chad bursts into giggles. The sound is so pure that it makes me laugh too.
“You suck!” Chad shouts between fits of laughter.
I cross my arms and narrow my eyes at them both, pretending to be annoyed. “You two are mean.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Chad says, still laughing.
“She just needs practice,” Harvey says as he steps closer. He ruffles Chad’s hair, and his hand grazes my arm as he pulls away. The soft touch is light, but it sends a spark through me.
“Your hair looks like mine,” Chad says, reaching up to smooth his own.
“Do you like it?” Harvey asks as he crouches to Chad’s level.
“Yeah! We’re twins now,” Chad beams.
I roll my lips together, not wanting to correct him. Let him have this moment.
“We aren’t, but I like your hair,” Harvey says.
Harvey’s watch chimes, breaking the moment.
“I have to meet someone.” He glances at his watch.
“Well, better not keep her waiting.” I start to retract my steps and tug Chad gently.
“ He’s at our meeting point,” Harvey corrects me, holding my gaze.
“You better go. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I reply, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up my neck, feeling a heat in my cheeks that I’m sure he notices.
He nods. “Are you ready for the bake-off?”
“It’ll be an easy win. I’d be worried if I were you.”
“Molly’s got my back.” He winks, and it hits me harder than I want to admit.
I raise an eyebrow and whisper, so Chad doesn’t hear. “You better not be seducing her.”
His grin widens. “Is that what you think I do?”
“People do anything to get ahead,” I tease, crossing my arms.
“I don’t. I win fair and square.” He smirks, then adds, “But I can always use some backup.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, good luck with that. I’ll show you what I’ve got tomorrow."
Cutting our moment short, his watch sounds again.
“We’ll let you go,” I say, grateful for the interruption.
“See you next time.” He high-fives Chad, and then meets my eyes one last time, softer now, but no less intense. “See you tomorrow, Betty Crocker.”
The name brings back memories of my dad. His favorite flavor was red velvet. Mom used to make the Betty Crocker cake mix for his birthday every year.
I watch Harvey jog away, unable to look away as his back flexes with each step.
He turns his head, and I feel a blush rise to my cheeks. Quickly, I spin around and usher Chad to the car. “Let’s go.”
“Oh, but Mom,” he whines.
“Next time, don’t tell me I suck, and I’ll play with you longer,” I tell him playfully, raising an eyebrow as I smirk.
“Harvey said you suck.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I mumble under my breath. Looking at where Harvey left, I shake my head, wondering why he’s getting to me. This new friendship with a man is unsettling.
I send Danny another text to tell him I hope he’s okay and to call me when he’s ready. But I still haven’t heard back.
When we pull up to the apartment, I see Jade. She comes rushing over to me, her face full of curiosity. “Hi?”
“We went to this other basketball court today,” Chad announces, interrupting her.
“Did you?” she asks brightly. “Where?” Her eyes move to me.
“90th street,” I say.
“You’re a lucky boy.” Jade smiles at Chad, who bounces his ball some more. I wonder where he gets the energy from. I’m ready to lie down on the sofa and nap.
“I wanted to catch you because I got a letter meant for you. The postman must have mixed it up.”
I take the letter and don’t miss the top left corner address. The prison. Jade gives me a sad smile. She knows.
“Did you need some company, love?” she offers.
“No, I'm okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I can do it,” I say, knowing I'm not okay, but I can’t break down in front of Chad. I need to keep it together, at least for him.
“If you need me to come over for a cup of tea or to take the little man, just call me.”
“Thanks, Jade,” I say, gently squeezing her arm. I hope she can hear how grateful I am. People like her remind me of the good in this world.
As we climb the stairs, Chad chatters away. I hum when needed, but otherwise, my head doesn’t know what to do. My thoughts are all messed up from the letter that’s burning a hole in my hand. Do I open it now or wait until Chad’s gone to sleep?
I go for the latter.
I cut up some fruit for him, but the unknown contents of the letter eat at me. Unable to wait anymore, I tear it open and read.
Jem,
How are you? Sorry it took me so long to write to you.
While I’ve been in here, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect. My choices were selfish, and I miss our times together. I’ve been working out and reading. I’ve also been going to counselling to work on my inner self. I regret my choices.
Let Chad know I wish I was there to shoot some hoops with him.
It’s not my intention to seek your forgiveness, but rather I hope you find peace and happiness. I’m changing for the better.
Love, Butch.
Working on himself? Glad he has time while I just picked up the pieces and carried on, fixing the mess he left me in. And what times is he referring to? The early ones as a family of three? Well, those times didn’t last. I want to ask when he started using, but then I’d have to reply, and I don’t want to acknowledge him. I hate him. I hate the life he robbed me of. I didn’t want this.
What's the point of writing to me? Does he expect me to praise him or congratulate him on his improvement?
I can’t do that. I’ve filed for divorce. I want to start over.
I look around our apartment, the lighting capturing the worn-out sofa that still has indentations where he used to sit, his presence lingering like a ghost. I can almost see him sitting there, eyes glued to the TV, the loud sounds of horse racing filling the room. The sight overwhelms me. God, I hate it here. There are too many memories, each one a painful reminder. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me, and I crave a new place, somewhere to start fresh.
I grip the cold paper tightly, its edges digging into my palm. I can’t bring myself to throw it out, because Chad deserves the truth when he’s old enough to ask. I put the letter away, out of sight but not out of my mind. I never chose anything other than my family, and even now, I put Chad first. My needs, wants and desires always come second.
Turning to the kitchen, I decide to bake, hoping that will distract me. Harvey’s cocky grin at the park earlier flashes in my mind, egging me on. Chad joins me, and his little hands stir the batter. He giggles as he licks the spatula and bowl, batter smearing on his cheeks.
I slide the cake into the oven, and Chad runs back to his toys, the sound of him playing filling the room. But my mind drifts back to the letter. Do I respond? The question eats at me.
My phone buzzes on the counter, and I wipe my hands and check the screen, seeing Harvey’s name.
Harvey: There’s a scholarship called The Stars, and they have a basketball program for Chad’s age. They’re known for turning players into pros. Chad could really stand out.
Me: I’ll look into it.
After I hit send, a pang of guilt twists in my gut. I wasn’t as nice as I could’ve been, but my frustrations and self-inflicted pressures, like refusing to ask for help because it feels like admitting failure, only to add to the sense that I’m feeling inadequate as a mother right now. I remind myself it’s not on purpose and that Harvey means well, but it doesn’t simmer down the turmoil inside me. Chad’s talented and deserves the opportunity, so I’ll look into it. As long as it works around school and it isn’t too far, I can get him the scholarship and, most importantly; if Chad wants it, then I can't say no. Life hasn’t been fair to him and seeing him shine in an environment that can support him would be a joy. And God knows, I need that.
The smell of cake fills the apartment. I forgot about the time and get the cake out, just in time. It’s a bit more golden than it should be, but it’ll do.
“Is it ready?” Chad calls out.
I hand him a small cake I baked in a ramekin, just for him.
“Here you go.”
He digs straight in. There wasn’t enough batter for me, but I’ll have some of this tomorrow after I’ve decorated it. And it will be so much sweeter when I’m announced as the winner, because it’s more than just a baking contest. It’s proof that I can do something right, that I can juggle it all and still come out on top. Winning would mean I’m more than just a mom struggling to keep it together. If I lose? I don’t even want to think about it. Because if I can’t pull this off, what else am I failing at? No. I need this.