Chapter 8
Charlotte
I’m shaking by the time I make it out to my car a little after six o’clock.
I was able to show up for my clients and give them my best. It’s the least I can do, considering they won’t have services here in two months’ time.
But in the in-between moments, when I was sanitizing the toys and instruments or on my break, it slammed into me again.
The Center is closing, and I don’t know what’s going to happen with these kids.
Of lesser importance, I embarrassed myself around star pro quarterback, Taysom Reed. My brother’s best friend. My former crush.
I ease onto the freeway and then place a hands-free call to my brother.
“How was the world of Monopoly money today?” I ask Kyle when he answers. “Did you get to pass go and collect two hundred dollars? Did you land on Park Place?”
Kyle is an investment banker downtown. I really have no idea what that means, so I make Monopoly jokes.
“Ha. Ha.” Kyle’s quiet for a moment. “How about you? Did you land in jail?”
“Well, actually…”
“Are you in jail right now?”
“Very funny.” Kyle knows I’m not the jailbird type. “But I had a pretty rotten day.” I pause, waiting for the courage to form the words. It doesn’t really come, so I plow through it anyway. “I lost my job today.”
“What?” Kyle says. He’s always worried about my financial life since he’s obsessed with money.
“Well, I’ll still work there until June first, but then I’m outta there. Along with all the other OTs.”
“Why? How can they do that?”
“They can do that because we are beholden to gifts and grants and the university is deprioritizing us. So yeah. It’s awful.”
“What about the initiative?”
A pang goes through my chest. “It’s unclear what will happen. It’s being shelved for the time being.”
“What about the kids?”
“Exactly. What about the kids? They don’t deserve this.
” I shake my head as I drive, still unable to fully grasp all that this means for everyone involved.
What this might mean for MJ. “We’ll spend our last two months there placing the kids with other programs and centers.
It’s going to be a beast because a lot of them charge for their services and our clients aren’t used to having to pay.
I feel like a lot of kids are going to slip through the cracks. ”
“I’m sorry, Charlotte.”
Kyle may be a lot of things and a big pain in my side half the time, but he can be sweet.
He’s the oldest of five, and I’m the third.
He and I have gotten closer in our adult years, especially ever since the sibling in between us, Maddy, got married last year.
There’s a brother and a sister younger than me, as well.
“I know. Thanks. We’ll figure it out.” I sigh. That’s not even all of it and before Taysom tells him his version, I better explain mine.
“Also, why didn’t you tell me Taysom Reed was coming to the Center to film?” I don’t mean to, but the word “film” comes out more like a sneer.
“Oh, for his documentary?”
“Yes! You could have given me a heads-up. It would have been nice to have been prepared.” And I definitely would have worn a different shirt besides my sauna—er, beige blouse.
“No, thank you, Kyle, for giving Taysom the idea to give me free PR for the Early Childhood Center?”
“Thanks for the reminder that I’ll have a nationwide TV audience when this is all done.”
“So he interviewed you?”
“Yep.”
“Why are you being weird about it?”
“I haven’t seen the guy in years. He’s famous now. And then he stands there in front of a camera and starts asking me questions.” A pang hits my belly as I remember my mortification.
“They can edit awkward stuff before it airs. You’re fine.”
“But will they? Because it got bad and I saw the camerawoman’s eyes just about bug out of her head.”
Except, I remember Taysom’s comment, I got you, and the look in his eyes.
Oh, crap. All he has to do is say one nice thing and look at me in that way, and maybe that old crush isn’t so old anymore.
Kyle laughs. “What did you say?”
I cringe, tapping my forehead in between my eyes, wishing I could go back in time. “I…asked Taysom to donate to our place instead of that ridiculous, behemoth sports medicine tower.”
“Did you call it a ridiculous, behemoth sports medicine tower?” Kyle’s voice fills with mock horror.
“I honestly don’t know. There’s much about that interview I don’t remember. I do know he shot me down. Or his foundation’s president shot me down.” I grit my teeth together. “I don’t even know.”
“I’m sure he would have agreed to it if he could. But don’t worry about it. It’s Taysom. For a professional athlete, he’s surprisingly low-key.”
I hesitate. I’ve never told Kyle about my former crush on his best friend.
And it doesn’t matter. It was so long ago, I barely remember it.
And sure, Taysom is objectively handsome, but he and I are polar opposites.
And, when I allowed myself to indulge in the fantasy of being in love with Taysom, he Twinkied me and never looked back.
“Twinkied.” “Twinkie Road” is what I call his rejection of me. When he forgot all about me because of a box of Twinkies.
I know it’s not exactly fair. I was just a baby of thirteen.
He was all grown up—seventeen. And if I know anything about seventeen-year-old males, it’s that when cute, golden-fried cakes are thrown into the mix, they’re going to forget all about their friend’s injured little sister.
It’s a given, like getting hungry after you eat rice. It’s basically a rule.
So, we have a teensy bit of a history—and it’s a painful one.
Besides, he probably has a girlfriend.
I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend, right?
I’m just relieved he doesn’t seem to have a kid—not that it’s any of my business. That’s something I would have definitely heard about, though, right?
“Well,” Kyle amends. “He’s usually low-key. Except that the Wolves drafted a really good quarterback last night. He’s stressed now.”
“Why? He’s not going to lose his position to some newbie.”
Kyle pauses and my chest freezes. “Wait. Are they going to replace Taysom with this new guy?”
“His name is Casey Riddock. And the answer is…possibly? I don’t know. There hasn’t been any word yet on Riddock’s contract with the Wolves, but I would say Taysom’s position is at least a little threatened.”
“That’s too bad. I don’t understand why they’d forgo their seasoned, all-star player for some kid just out of college.”
“I don’t know, either. And maybe they won’t. But Taysom’s…concerned.”
“And then I demand money from him!” I rub the back of my neck, trying to relieve the tension. “I was all shaken up because they’d just told us the Center is shutting down.”
“What a blindside.”
“It was.” But it shouldn’t have been. Funding is by far the worst part of this job, always wondering if you’re going to have enough.
“Ron and Tracy will spend the last half of the year trying to drum up more funds and redefine what the center might be in the future. Maybe I can come back if they get the funding.”
“But with that possibility months away…”
“I know, I know.” My vision stalls on the early evening light hitting the buildings on either side of the street. “I’ll get a different job in the interim. And honestly, the center may never reopen because there are a lot of factors involved.”
“Do you need a Mercy Pizza or something?”
I burst out a laugh. Our family, the Mercers, came up with the idea of a mercy pizza whenever someone was having a bad day. And this certainly qualifies as a bad day.
“I’ll take a raincheck. I need to eat something light right now. My stomach is still in knots.”
“You should hang out with your friends. Enjoy the fact that you no longer have to go to work.”
“I’ll still be working there for the next two months, so I can’t slack off yet.”
“You’ll never slack off. You don’t even slack off in your sleep.”
I would protest, but he’s right. I never stop. I even dream about the Center on the regular, so I don’t rest even when I’m asleep. It’s a problem.
“Okay, well, I’m almost home, so I’ll let you go,” I say. “Do you have fun plans tonight?”
“I’ll probably hang out with some friends and watch some baseball or something.”
“Sounds riveting,” I deadpan.
“It is!” he says. “But let me know if you change your mind about the Mercy Pizza, okay?”
I thank him and then call my parents to tell them the bad news. They’re sympathetic, but I don’t expect them to fix my problems. I park the car in my crumbly old driveway because the detached garage is full of extended family members’ stuff.
I shared this place with my sister before she got married last year. Maybe my younger brother Gage will move in with me someday, but he’s at San Antonio University, so he wants the dorm life for now.
My place is an adorable little house with narrow yellow siding and a mint green porch in the front. I know…yellow and mint green? It shouldn’t work, but it does.
Built in 1925, it’s been in the family since the seventies, when my father lived here with his parents and siblings. Since then, it’s rotated through whichever family members needed it, with the only requirement being the person renting it pays taxes, insurance, and for all the repairs.
Sometimes the costs add up to what a mortgage payment would be because the house is a hundred years old. I really should replace the driveway, but I just had to replumb the bathroom, so it’s going to have to wait.
The house has a patio on the side, just off the dining room, in the same mint green as the porch. The eaves and trim of the house are painted a warm white, but someone had the idea of painting the beams holding up the edge of the roof the same mint green. It’s adorable.
But approaching the front steps, my limbs are heavy, and not just because of my hip condition. The weight of the world is on my shoulders, with sadness for my little clients clinging to me like plastic wrap.
As I stretch my aching hips and take the first step, a loud, mournful meow vibrates through the wood underneath my feet.