Chapter 11 #2
I know what she’s doing. We’ve already looked into tutors, and the prices were…
a lot. The going rate for a tutor these days has really gone up.
Inflation, man. A few I found charge sixty dollars an hour.
One hour a week is already out of my budget, and if Abby needed more than that? It would be so expensive.
I smooth a hand down her hair, and she looks back up, a glint in her eye. “Maybe Austin’s good at math.”
I barely suppress a snort. “No way. No clue if he is, but you wouldn’t learn a thing. Try again, kid.”
Her smile widens. “Worth a shot.”
I thump her shoulder, and she laughs.
“Take a break. You haven’t even had lunch. Let me make you a sandwich. We have leftover turkey from Thanksgiving.”
I stand and head to the kitchen and a few minutes later Abby trails in, carrying her Chromebook, calculator, and that stack of scratch paper.
“I meant without your math, child.” I nod to her Chromebook. “Sometimes it makes more sense after a break. Fresh eyes and all that.”
She ignores me, instead she harrumphs and spreads everything out on the kitchen table.
Sighing, I open the fridge, gathering everything needed to make a turkey sandwich.
Right as I’m handing the plated sandwich to Abby, Jay barrels into the kitchen, smelling like outside and a stinky boy.
He grabs a glass from the cabinet and fills it up with water, gulping down half the glass in one long go.
“Did Tyler leave?” I ask.
Jay looks up, wiping water from his mouth and shakes his head. “He’s on the porch.”
“You didn’t ask him if he’d like to come in for a drink?”
Jay lifts a shoulder and gulps down the rest of his water.
I take a few calming breaths and head to the front porch where Tyler sits, spread out on my porch swing, one arm stretched across the back. He’s staring off in the distance like he’s lost in thought. At the creak of the door, he glances my way and smiles.
“You coulda come in, ya know.”
“Just trying to stay out of your way. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me in your space.”
“You’re welcome here anytime. C’mon in.” I jerk my head toward the kitchen, and he rises, following me inside. Pausing in the entry, he kneels, allowing Smudge to sniff his hands before giving him a few scratches behind his ears.
Once Smudge has deemed him worthy to enter, I lead him to my kitchen, but he hangs back, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes tracking around the room.
I can’t help but wonder what my small, messy kitchen looks like from his point of view.
The baker’s rack against one wall is filled with Mawmaw’s cookbooks, stacked haphazardly on the shelf.
Then there’s my wilted pothos Penny insisted I needed.
But because I forget to water it, she now refers to it as Sir Droops a Lot.
His eyes pause, lingering on my fridge which is covered in dozens of magnets holding down art projects, a school calendar, and glossy photos of Abby and Jay.
Grabbing a glass, I fill it with ice then water, and hand it to him.
Taking the glass from my hand, our fingertips brush the slightest bit, sending a zing of awareness up my spine.
My little house feels impossibly small with him in it.
His presence is a tangible thing and all I can do is stand there, heart racing, trying to take him all in.
Jay plops into the chair next to Abby, and Abby’s face contorts, her nose wrinkling in disgust.
“Jay, you smell like onions! Abby points to the chair across the table. “Move.”
Jay groans, rolling his eyes but swaps to the chair across from her.
“Abby. Be nice. But Jay, son, it’s probably time I buy you some deodorant.”
Jay shrugs, completely unbothered. Gah, raising a boy is wildly different from a girl. When Abby realized she smelled bad, she burst into tears and demanded we go to the market right then for a stick of deodorant.
“Abby, hon, hand me your plate so I can wash it.”
She passes over her plate and dives right back into her algebra. It takes maybe ten seconds before the muttering starts. Then the sighing.
“I literally cannot do this, Mom.” Dramatically, she lets her head fall to the table with a soft thud. “Guess I need to change my entire life plan because I am absolutely failing this midterm. What’s a job that doesn’t require algebra?”
Tyler has been standing in the kitchen doorway this whole time, quietly observing our family interaction, but at Abby’s question, he moves into the room.
“Mind if I look at this?” he asks, pointing to her paper with formulas scribbled across it.
Abby nods, still in her math-induced misery. He picks it up, studies it for a few seconds, brows furrowed, then sets it down, leaning to brace himself on one arm.
“You’re close. But right here”—he points to a spot on the page—“you started it correctly, but when you moved the constant, you forgot the negative sign. That’s where your answer’s going wrong.”
Abby’s brows pinch, and she scribbles furiously on a clean sheet of paper, trying out Tyler’s advice. Her eyes widen and she swivels her head to look up at him.
“That’s it! That’s what I was doing wrong.”
He offers a small smile, and straightens, moving to lean against the doorframe once again.
Abby spins in her chair to face him. “I wish you could tutor me. Mom’s been trying to find someone, but they cost too much.”
“Abby, Tyler is a busy man.”
“Actually, Jo, I’m not busy at all. And I can do it for free,” Tyler says, not missing a beat.
My eyes snap up to his, blinking. Did he offer to tutor Abby for free?
Do I want that? He’s giving me a pleading look, begging me to accept the offer.
I think back to what Penny said earlier this week.
While I’m not ready to tell Abby yet, he deserves an opportunity to get to know her.
It’d be cruel of me to prevent that. Then there’s his reassurance last night we’d figure this out together.
Maybe tutoring could be a safe, neutral way for him to be around her while Tyler and I navigate our new reality.
“You’d do that?” I ask.
A muscle in Tyler’s jaw ticks. “Yes, Jo. I’d do that.” Turning back to Abby, he says, “Two times a week? What do ya think?”
Abby and Tyler both look at me, two sets of identical eyes asking for confirmation. Smiling, I give one swift nod of my head.
Tyler looks back at Abby. “It’s a deal. We’ll work on your homework together and you’ll be ready for the midterm before you know it.”
Hours later, both kids have retreated to their bedrooms. The click, click of Jay’s video game controller can be heard as I head down the hallway, and the faint scent of nail polish wafts from Abby’s room. Both of their doors are wide open, so I peek my head in Jay’s first.
He doesn’t have the newest gaming system.
I had to go with the earlier model, but you’d never know by the way Jay loves that thing.
His headset rests on his head, fingers pushing buttons with lightning speed on his controller.
I look at the screen just in time to see his Fortnite character dodge a bullet from an opposing player, and a huge smile breaks out on his face.
I move into his room to put his laundry away, glancing at his screen every few seconds to watch him play.
“I had fun today,” he says, eyes still glued to his game. “Austin’s cousin is cool.”
I close his T-shirt drawer and start on his socks. “Yeah? Who won? I hope it was you.”
His game ends and he sets his controller down, finally looking my way. “I won one round. He won the other. But it was close. We were tied at twenty but then he made the shot.”
“Did he talk much?”
Jay’s face scrunches up, like I have two heads or something. “We talked about ball. What else is there to talk about?”
Right, right. Stupid question. I ruffle his blond hair and he goes back to his video game.
“One more hour and it’s bedtime, Jay.”
He raises his hand in a thumbs up.
“Love you, Jaybird.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
I’m not sure when I got the big demotion from Mama to the more mature Mom, but I guess this is part of him growing up.
Abby’s been calling me Mom for years, and occasionally the dreaded mother.
Sometimes when she’s feeling sassy, she’ll throw out a Josephine to get a rise out of me.
The first time she did it, it pissed me off.
I thought it was so disrespectful, but these days it just makes me laugh.
I cross the hall to her open doorway, tapping my fingernails lightly against the frame. She looks up from where she’s painting her nails a bright shade of pink.
“That’s a pretty color, Abs! Wanna paint mine next?”
Abby used to love painting my nails when she was little.
I’d end up with the biggest mess, polish smeared all over my fingertips and the skin around my nail beds.
Now that she’s gotten older, though, she’s actually pretty damn good.
She nods, and I grab her desk chair, rolling it to the edge of her bed.
She finishes up her nails, blows on them for a few seconds, then turns, taking my hand in hers.
Quietly, she applies the first coat on my right hand, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth in concentration, which has always made me smile. It’s the same expression she had when she was five, trying to stay within the boundaries of my nails, and it makes my heart ache in the best way.
And now, after being around Tyler a few times, I’m more and more aware of their similarities.
Abby definitely got a few traits from me, but there’s a serious side to her that’s all him.
Life was one big party for me at her age, but not Abby.
She’s got this quiet introspection that I never had at thirteen.
With my first coat finished, we pause to let them dry.
“I heard what Jay was saying,” Abby says, eyes still on my nails, “about Austin’s cousin.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, my tone neutral.
“He’s nice. I still think it’s weird how he’s hanging around here all of a sudden. But he’s nice,” she repeats. “And luckily, good at math.”
I nod, smiling softly. “He is nice. I agree, Abs.”
Abby takes my hand to start the second coat. She’s on my pinky when her words cause my heart to leap into my throat.
“I think he likes you. Like likes you.”
All of a sudden, the room feels ten degrees warmer.
“What do you mean, like likes me?”
Her eyes lift to mine, a knowing little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “He looks at you the way Coach Johnson looks at Ms. Davis.”
A laugh bursts from me before I can stop it, and Abby giggles, too. She doesn’t need to explain. Our baseball coach and science teacher have been in a not-so-secret relationship for years. They’re always making lovey-dovey eyes at each other when they think no one is watching.
“What do you mean, he looks at me? He was only around me for a few minutes.”
“Yeah, well, you were washing dishes and I caught him giving you a look.” She places emphasis on the word look.
I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Abby noticing that, but I can’t stop the little flutter kicking up in my stomach.
I mean, obviously nothing will come of it, but if he was giving me a look, well, it sure does help a girl’s confidence, ’cause that man is fine.
Smiling, I shake my head.
“I don’t know about all that, sweetie. But it’s nice of him to tutor you.”
Abby nods enthusiastically, her face splitting into a smile. “I can’t believe I forgot the negative. That was so stupid of me.”
My nails are dry, so I rise from the chair and lean over to kiss the top of her head. Despite a couple of rough patches, she’s been such an easy kid lately. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but I’ll take it for as long as it does.
“Sometimes forgetting the negative leads to something positive,” I say with a wink as I leave her room.
Abby rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “You are so cringey, Mom.”
Once in my bedroom, I cross to my bed and flop dramatically, face down into my pillow. With every ounce of strength I can muster, I will the flutter in my belly to cease and desist immediately. It does not work.
On a whim I reach for my phone and scroll till I come to Tyler’s contact.
Thanks for offering to tutor. You have no idea how much this will help.
Tyler
I should be thanking you. Thank you for letting me get to know our daughter, even if it’s under the guise of algebra.
Whenever you’re ready I’d really like to get to know her as her father, though.
I type, delete, type, delete for a good ten seconds, working to draft a response that won’t ruin the moment.
Do you think we need some ground rules?
Tyler
Ground rules?
Yes. Like no blurting out you’re her father.
I don’t know why I text that. I’ve been around him a handful of times now, and already I know this man does not blurt anything. Being footloose and fancy free with words is more my style.
Tyler
Jo, I won’t “blurt” anything. I’m following your lead.
Ok well. That sounds good. Keep her off her phone. It’ll distract her.
Tyler
Got it.
And Tyler?
Tyler
Yes, Jo?
Thanks for all you’ve done.
I waffle between a heart or emoji or not, and before I can delete it, I add one and hit send.
He immediately hearts my text then changes it to an exclamation point, then lands on a thumbs up. It seems he’s trying out all the emoji reactions tonight. Then a bubble with three dots appears.
Tyler
I’d do anything for you three, Jo. Sweet dreams.
Despite my best efforts at keeping Tyler at arm’s length, my lips curl up in a grin.