Chapter 2
Harlow
“C’mon, boys. Grab your backpacks and get down here. Your dads will be here soon.” Reaching for the coffeepot, I pour a second steamy cup as if I’m on autopilot. It feels like ages since I’ve slept well.
Lately, my shifts at the hospital have fluctuated between morning and night hours, throwing off my usual schedule. But vacations and maternity leave require every nurse to be flexible in order to cover the needs of the emergency room. I’m so ready to get back to normal. When you’re a single mother of two rambunctious boys, having a dependable routine is a must. But life doesn’t always go according to plan. Add to this, it’s my exes’ weekend with their kids, and everything has felt even more off-kilter.
Handing my children off to their fathers never gets easier, despite the constant self-talk that it’s good for Alec and Justin to spend quality time with both parents. I lived with each of their dads long enough to know my children aren’t learning any positive life skills over there. These men never ask for anything beyond the bare minimum when it comes to their allotted time with their boys. I honestly think they liken their weekends to babysitting versus the opportunity to love on their kids. But that’s fine. The less time my children spend away from their momma, the better.
Taking a sip of the new Columbian blend I purchased, I wince. I’d given the first cup a pass, thinking I wasn’t fully awake enough to judge it fairly. The grounds smelled good in the store, but this is clearly bitter. Reaching for the flavored creamer, I pour in a generous amount, hoping to make it more palatable. This seems to be a metaphor for my life.
If only I had big plans to distract me while the boys are gone. Juggling a social life when you’re an overworked single mom isn’t easy. I’m sure most women jump at the chance to enjoy some adulting in their children’s absence. Yet I’m working all weekend. I try to plan my schedule around their time away to limit the need for sitters. I spend enough time away from my kids.
Dating life as a single mother is like playing Fortnite. You have to seize opportunities where you can find them, moving toward the grand prize: a healthy relationship despite all the obstacles in your way. I guess that’s a true mark of a boy-mom. Analogies to the latest video game. Hopefully, I can build in a little quality time with Stewart before the boys are home. It’s been a while since we’ve had any of that.
I’m trying to make smarter choices with men. My children have enough working against them with chauvinistic, disinterested dads for role models. I certainly don’t need to introduce them to another man who excels in disappointment. But so far, Stewart seems like a good catch. He’s kind, well mannered, and hasn’t shown any narrow-minded behavior. Not that we’ve gotten serious enough for those opportunities to be evident yet. He appears to understand my limitations, given my situation with the boys, and never gives me a hard time when I can’t meet up as often as he’d like. Plus, he has a good job and treats me like an equal. That’s already leaps and bounds beyond my first two serious relationships.
“Ready, Mom,” my five-year-old belts out as he flies down the stairs like a trapeze artist, standing tall with a grin of pride as he sticks the landing.
“Did you put your toothbrush and toothpaste in your bag like I asked?”
“Darn it,” Alec sputters, snapping his fingers as he spins on his heel and sprints back toward his bathroom without missing a beat. I only asked him to do one thing. One. How did he manage to miss his toothbrush?
Biting the inside of my cheek at what I might find, I quickly grab his Spiderman backpack and unzip it to ensure he hasn’t removed everything I arranged, replacing it with Matchbox cars and gummy bears crammed into its depths. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.
“Mom, do you have any sunscreen?” His older brother startles me with a stealthy entrance.
“Oh. Justin, you scared me. Yes, in the pantry. Why? Has your dad made plans for the weekend?” The thought is both surprising and encouraging.
“I doubt it. But it’s hot, and me and Alec spend a lot of time outside. You’re always putting it on us, but they never have any.”
My sharp kiddo. I pull him to my side and ruffle his hair. “I’m so proud of you. You know that?” Walking to the pantry, I reach inside and retrieve a bottle of lotion and make a mental note to buy two from here on out. Not that they spend that much time away. Jimmy and Rob barely have them every other weekend. Which, again, is just fine by me.
“You know it’s not their fault.”
“What?” I frown.
“They weren’t taught how to raise children like girls were.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I give my child a teasing glare. “That sounds suspiciously like something your dad would say.”
Justin shrugs his shoulders and grins. “It was actually Alec’s dad who said it.” A feeling of self-satisfaction washes over me. My eight-year-old is mature beyond his years. And not to be smug, but there’s no way he got that from his Y chromosome. I’ll always love his father, divorced or not. But that man has no interest in expelling energy on anyone but himself. Including his kids.
Both of my ex-husbands are equally ridiculous. Although, I guess I need to accept some of the blame. I should’ve known better, but married them all the same.
I grew up the daughter of an overworked single mother. While my mother and father never divorced, the union wasn’t worth the paper the marriage certificate was printed on. My father may have listed our home address as his place of residence, but he strolled in and out of his temporary abode, and our lives, at will. It was as if there was a revolving door at our house. Looking back without the rose-colored glasses, it’s more than likely he only returned when he was short on money or a place to stay. I know from first-hand experience my husbands would’ve each done the same if I hadn’t shown them the door and made it clear that wasn’t happening. Sure, if they were ever hurt or in dire straits, I’d help them in any way I could. My love for them never faded, just the illusion our relationship was the type you find in fairy tales.
My mother took my father’s disappearing acts in stride, continuing to work two jobs, always placing my needs above her own. I’m sure she must’ve been exhausted, but never let it show. With the exception of allowing my father to treat both of us like a doormat, she set the bar high for motherhood. And I’m bound and determined to do the same for my boys.
Growing up in that environment, I made a promise to myself I’d never settle for that treatment from a man. And I haven’t. Yet, it didn’t stop me from falling hard and pregnant with their children before allowing enough time for the behavior to reveal itself.
Ding. Dong.
“I’ll get it! Let me get it!” Alec hollers as he thunders down the steps, a toy car in each hand.
“Careful, wild man. And where’s your toothbrush?”
“Grrr.” He throws his head back in frustration before whirling around as if he’s about to retrace his steps when the doorbell rings again. Suddenly, the metal toys ricochet off of the floor as he races to the door.
“For gosh sakes, Alec, you’re going to give me vertigo,” I mutter, watching him spin about the foyer.
“Dad!” my youngest shrieks before plowing into Rob.
“Hi, buddy. I was wondering if we had the wrong house. What took you so long?”
Really? It was a hot minute, Rob.
“Mom was making me get my toothbrush.”
I roll my eyes until they land on Jimmy, who’s standing at the base of the steps, his focus glued to his cellphone. Instinctively, I look to Justin. My poor kid. If I had something a little less dangerous than this mug of hot coffee in my hand, I’d throw it at his father’s phone.
“Hi, Dad,” Justin says stoically as he comes to the door. “I love you, Mom.” Giving me a one-armed hug, he hesitantly descends the cracked cement steps to stand next to his apathetic father. My heart aches at the sight. Would it kill him to greet his son with a bit more enthusiasm before zoning out to social media or sports? He hasn’t seen the boy for weeks. Heck, he’s probably lining something up with his one true love.
His bookie.
“Hold tight for a sec. I’ll run and grab Alec’s toothbrush and toothpaste,” I tell them.
“Harlow, you act like he’s never spent the night before. He’s got a toothbrush at the house.”
Balling my fists, I place them on my hips and lift one brow in question, unsure I believe his assurance. Sure enough, he takes a step back, his shoulders tight, a perplexed look crossing his face. This man has no flipping idea if Alec has toiletries at his house or if he merely uses the ones I pack for him. I’m certain of it. “It will only take a second,” I repeat before dashing up the stairs. At least I can count on Justin to ensure his little brother will brush his teeth and wash up before bed.
Who’s watching who exactly?
While my boys have different fathers, they tend to spend their weekends like a big sleepover. It appears Rob and Jimmy have a better relationship with each other than they ever had with me. But it could be that teaming up is simply easier than going it alone. Tag team parenting allows them to have someone there as a back-up, to step up when the other is busy. Not that they ever shared the child-rearing when either of them lived with me. It was expected I’d do everything. Yet, this way, they can watch the game and eat pizza with the boys, then hand them off to me once the weekend is over. While I’m sure it’s confusing to others, their relationship, while odd, is purely platonic. Heck, I suspect they act as each other’s wing man when they’re out.
I’m done pondering how strange the whole situation is. Considering how clueless they were at anything domestic when we were married, it’s probably better for the boys that they double up when they have them overnight.
Returning to the front porch, I jut out the Spiderman toothbrush and flavored toothpaste, and Justin quickly grabs them, unzipping his brother’s bag and tucking them inside.
“Thanks, Mom.” Alec wraps his little arms around my legs, and I give him a squeeze.
“Be good for your dad, okay?”
“I’m always good.” He pronounces with indignation.
“Let’s head out, boys. The game starts in thirty.”
“We’re going to a game?” Alec asks excitedly, grabbing my arm a little tighter. I brace myself for Rob’s reply.
“Nah. It’s better on TV,” his father says. “Plus, the snacks are cheaper.”
Bending down, I give Alec another hug as his shoulders slump. “I’ll see you soon, wild man. Won’t be long before I get to come to your baseball games.”
The reminder causes his eyes to twinkle in anticipation. “Bye, Mom.”
Stepping back, my eyes hold Justin’s momentarily, and I mouth, “Have you got everything?” in an effort to keep my attention on a task versus the hole in my heart at watching my boys leave. It’s not normal to send your children away. I’ll never get used to this.
Standing on the porch until they back out of the drive, I wave one last time before returning inside the desolate foyer, my heart aching.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
I reach for the phone and notice Sadie’s sweet face, grateful for the timely distraction. “Hey, girlie. What’re you up to this early? I figured you’d be sleeping in since we’re working the late shift tonight.”
“I would’ve preferred that. But my next-door neighbor is apparently into morning sex. And the walls are so thin here, I think I may have a concussion from all the banging.”
“Oh, god.” I giggle. But my heart goes out to her. The only thing worse than not getting any on the regular is having to hear someone else getting it in stereo. “Was it just the banging, or are they loud too?”
“Oh, fuck! Yes! That’s it. Suck my cock before I bury it in your ass,” she mimics into the phone.
My eyes widen in shock. I wasn’t expecting that. “Holy shit. Have you seen these two?”
“Oh, trust me, Har. It was much hotter before I knew what they looked like.”
A snort escapes before I can stop it.
“I know I’m going to see you in a few hours, but I’m dreading this shift. The last few have been brutal, and I can almost guarantee we’ll be short staffed again. Can we go for a drink as soon as it’s over? I need some motivation to get through ’til the end,” she whines.
“Yes. That’s a great idea. The boys are with their dads this weekend. I was going to see if Stew wanted to meet up after work, but he’ll probably be happy with a booty call. So, I’ll just tell him I’ll see him after we grab a drink.”
“Men. Arlo said he’s playing poker with his buddies tonight, so there’s no midnight delight waiting for me after work.” She huffs, sounding defeated. “It’s bad enough he’s always traveling for his job. Then he gets home and wants to snuggle up with poker chips, cheap cigars, and a six-pack of whatever’s on sale at the Jingle Mart.”
Sadie and Arlo have been dating for a while, with no plans to settle down anytime soon. While she’s only a year younger than I am, Sadie’s got her head on straight. Unlike me, who fell for the first hot guy I met once I was on my own.
Okay, make that two .
But for all of my regrets regarding my failed marriages, I wouldn’t trade my two boys for anything. I need to remind myself of that when I’m all alone with nothing but my vibrator to keep me warm at night. “All right, chicka. I’m getting some things done around the house while the kids are away. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“See ya, Har.”
Placing my phone back on the counter, I decide to put in a load of laundry before heading to the boys’ rooms to straighten up. Not sure why I bother, as they’ll only return and destroy them again. But with two rowdy boys, you never know what you might find. It could be an animal they’ve rescued, a random sock that’s been missing for months, or the vegetables they swore they finished but instead made their way to their room to eventually die a stinky death under the bed. I shake my head at the thought and consider finding rubber gloves and a face mask before a grin crosses my face. I’m lucky to have two well-behaved, respectful children. They’re good kids. Whatever I discover will be fine.
Still depressed at the lackluster coffee I brewed this morning, I decide to give myself a little incentive of my own. If I can manage to get my to-do list tackled quickly enough, maybe I can stop by the Gingerbread Man bakery and get a coffee and scone to take to work.
Now, that’s a man I can count on.
As I drive to Candy Cane Key Medical Center, I take a sip of hot coffee from the to-go cup decorated in gingerbread men and moan as the rich aroma wafts toward my face. This is a far cry from that bitter batch from this morning. I’m bringing the rest of that bag to work. Most of the folks in the ER aren’t picky about what the coffee tastes like, especially if they’re working the night shift. Any caffeine they can get their hands on is usually acceptable.
Placing the cup down, I decide to call Stewart before I park and make the grueling trek from the temporary staff parking. It’s so hot it’s almost difficult to carry on a conversation while walking. The very thought of dragging my overstuffed tote bag in this stifling heat, almost twice the distance it normally takes, has me sweating before I’ve left the car. I should start coming to work in a bikini and change once I’m inside. My clothes are practically drenched before I even clock in. I understand we need to be flexible, given the expansion going on at the hospital, but this is absurd. Is this honestly the best administration can do?
“Hello?”
“Hey, babe. I’m working the evening shift tonight. But the kids are with their dads. You want to get a late cocktail or meet at your place after I’m off?” He’s only met Sadie once before, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if he came along. Particularly if he’s buying.
“Aww man, Harlow, my sister just called. She’s in Florida for the week, but only in the Keys for the weekend. I’m letting her crash here tonight. Can we hook up tomorrow?”
I fling my heavy bag over my shoulder and lock my car before turning in the direction of the hospital, a wash of disappointment pulling me under like a riptide. It feels like weeks since we’ve had any quality time alone. And by quality time, I mean the horizontal tango, of course. “Sure. That might work. Just text me tomorrow whether you want to meet somewhere for a late drink or if I should just head to your place.”
“I will. See you then, beautiful.”
Tucking my phone into my back pocket, my frustration at Stew’s sister’s untimely visit quickly dissipates as I take two steps and come to an abrupt halt. I practically reach up to rub my eyes to verify what I’m seeing is real as a small white shuttle bus approaches.
Am I hallucinating?
Plus, there’s new signage posted at the front of the temporary lot that wasn’t here the last shift I worked.
Candy Cane Staff Parking Shuttle Stop
Runs every fifteen minutes from 6:30 a.m. to 11:30 p.m.,
every thirty minutes from 11:30 p.m. to 2:30 a.m.
Wow. It’s a Christmas miracle. I giggle. Okay, everything good that happens in Candy Cane Key we refer to as a Christmas miracle. And this definitely qualifies. Several people ahead of me take the three steps up the shuttle bus to find their seats. Just as I reach the entrance, I notice a small sign to the left of the folding doors that reads:
Courtesy of Hightower Construction
Well, fa la la la la!