Quinn 7.
“Mom, please?” I hate when my kids beg. Mostly because I usually give in and it’s ALWAYS something I don’t want to do. Case in point: I am about to accept the position of coach for a Destination Imagination team I didn’t want to be a part of in the first place. Sal doesn’t ask much, but when the principal asked me to come lend a hand, I should have known it would mean my downfall.
“I hate this.” I mutter to him, his eyes dance with amusement. Punk.
“I know. But you’re gonna do it anyway, because the other coach is an idiot, and you hate to lose.”
“I used to change your diaper.”
“And I’m sure I’ll be changing yours before our time together is through.”
“Where is my precious baby boy?”
“The Congressionals.” He has a point. The men of the Congressionals MC have been amazing influences on my boys. Male role models they desperately need. And yet…
“Alright, kids, we’re gonna meet three days a week after school, two hours at a time. Competition is in exactly three months, two weeks, and five days. That doesn’t leave us a lot of time to write a script, create portable set designs, costumes, and practice. So, we’ll meet back here on Wednesday. Be ready to work.”
Sal grins at me, knowing he’s won, while the three girls and one boy grumble. You don’t want to win, don’t sign up for a competition. I might be… might be a tad bit competitive. And I won’t apologize for it.
“Come on, Bernie Madoff, I’m taking you to your dad’s.”
“He picked up Marco and Enzo?” I bite the inside of my cheek in frustration and simply nod. My ex-husband, Joe, is a good man. But he’s troubled. He’s got mountains of shit to work through and that means he’s self-absorbed sometimes. In Sal’s defense, Joe has forgotten to pick up the boys more than once. Luckily, today is not one of those days.
In the car, Sal picks through my music library, and proceeds to sing very off-key to Kaleo . My ears might bleed, but I love listening to my boys enjoy themselves. “You have a date tonight?” He asks when we’re almost at his dad’s.
“I do.”
“Why are you dating?”
I consider his question, “Well, I like being in a relationship, I miss it.” I give him a moment, “Does it bother you that I’m dating? And not dating your dad?”
“God, no! I love Dad, but you deserve better, Mom. Someone should love you.” I blink back some tears. That was sweet. “And that person should not be Dad or Ford.”
“Then you’re in luck, because my date isn’t with either of them.”
“You should date Polk.” I nearly choke on my tongue, definitely not expecting that response.
“Polk? Why?”
“He’s a veterinarian. He rides a motorcycle. He’s smart. And he’s really nice to me and Marco and Enzo. And he looks at you all the time.”
“He does not.” My face feels hot all of a sudden. Polk is…he’s incredibly handsome. Boy-next door, All-American, and loves animals. What’s not to like? But the idea of him being attracted to me is absurd. I’m not being hard on myself, I am pretty and possess several wonderful qualities. But I’m also realistic. I’m 36, divorced, mother of three, with thinning hair, and extra weight around the middle. Ford’s delivery could have used some finesse, but it doesn’t make the sentiment any less true. I’m not most men’s ideal, and certainly not young, virile, gorgeous motorcycle club members.
“Mom.” I snort, his tone conveying disappointment, frustration, and a little pity. God, he’s my child through and through. I pull into the parking lot of Joe’s apartment. When we divorced, he insisted I stay in the house with the boys, and he’d move out. I wasn’t gonna argue or point out that I had no intention of uprooting my boys. Sometimes, it’s best to let men believe something is their idea. “He stares…all the time. You’re too busy cackling with the other hens to notice.”
“Boy—”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Quit listening to Buck.”
He glances at me with an impish grin. “Never. Bros before ho—honest, hardworking, wonderful women.”
I open my door and scowl at him over my shoulder as I get out, “Nice save.” Sal races up the sidewalk and holds the door open for me. We take the elevator up to Joe’s floor and step out. Before I knock, Sal spins around and puts his hands on my shoulders. He’s 12 and not much shorter than me. Where does the time go?
“Have fun tonight. I love you, Mom. We want you to be happy.” I crush him to my chest and sway us back and forth.
“I love you too. You and your brothers give me so much joy. I’m happy, kid.”
“You could be happier. Someone to love you and kiss you.” He gags on the word. So dramatic. “Just like we could be happier too with something fluffy—”
I push Sal away from me. “We’re not getting a dog!”
“Worth a try.” He shrugs, then knocks on his dad’s apartment. Joe answers a few moments later. He smiles at me, drags Sal into a hug, then pushes him into the apartment to find his brothers. “Bye, Mom!”
“Bye. Behave yourselves!” I lean against the doorjamb and smile at Joe. “What are the chances that’ll happen?”
“With our boys? Slim to none.”
“Marco and Enzo give you any trouble during pick up?”
“Nah, perfect little angels.” We both chuckle at the absurdity of that statement. “Heard you got a date tonight?” I nod, unsure how he’ll react. “I hope he’s worthy of your time and attention.”
I nearly fall over in shock. “Therapy going well?”
Joe dips his chin, “Yeah, it is. I mean it, Quinn, you deserve someone who is good to you.”
“Joe…you were good to me too, once upon a time.” I lean in closer, “You deserve to be good to yourself.”
A bark of laughter escapes him, “I’m assuming that wasn’t a masturbation joke.” My eyes widen in alarm, I hadn’t even considered it could be taken that way. “I’m getting there, slowly but surely. Have fun tonight and be careful. You need anything—”
“Joe, you have the boys, I won’t bother you.”
“I was going to say, you need anything call the Congressionals.” With a grin, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek softly.
“Since I’ll be out on the town, you can call the Congressionals too if you need anything. Enzo knows Buck’s number by heart if there is a plumbing emergency.”
“What is his fascination with toilets?”
“No idea. Must be from your side of the family.” I lean around him and yell into the two-bedroom apartment. “Bye, boys! Love you!” They yell back and with a wave, I leave them to it.
Now that I’m kid-free, my nerves start up again. I’m starting to think the dating apps might not be my best shot at finding a real relationship. So far, I haven’t had much luck. Each one more absurd than the last. Tonight is my last try. If this one is a dud, I might just have to give up on the whole finding love again thing. That whole Sister Act idea is looking better and better.
At home, I go through the motions of primping and painting myself. With a heavy sigh, I tie the jade green wrap dress around me and step into my black peep toe heels. One last look, I give myself a soft smile in the mirror.
I pull up to the restaurant and find a parking space towards the back of the lot. I give the hostess my name and she escorts me to a booth along the side of the dining room. It’s not isolated, but it does offer some privacy. I sit down and order a glass of wine from the waitress.
I’m spinning it around, my eyes glued to the sloshing pale liquid when someone clears their throat next to me. I plaster on a friendly smile and look up to greet my date.
“Hi, you mus—Polk?”