Chapter 21 #2
He beams, telling me more about his day, the games he played with his friends during their free time on the playground, and the new painting they’re working on for the rest of the week.
Next week is a sports camp. He’ll be doing soccer and basketball. He doesn’t care that much about the soccer part—though I framed it as cross training that will help him get better in basketball too, so he’s not too grumpy about it—but is really excited about the basketball part.
“Damien said he’ll be at the sports camp next week too!”
“Oh, that’s great. I’m glad you’ll have a friend you already know there. Hopefully you’ll be in the same group. Wanna shoot some hoops after we get home?”
I glance back at him since we’re stopped at a light, and he has his face screwed up like he’s thinking hard about it. “Sure. But can I call Dad first?”
“Of course!” I give him a bright smile, trying not to let on that it kinda guts me that he’d rather call his dad first before spending time with me when I’m right here offering to play with him right now.
On the other hand, having a little downtime when I get home will be nice too.
Plus it’ll give me time to change into clothes for playing basketball.
Once we’re inside, Liam drops his stuff, yells, “I’m gonna pee and then call Dad!” and nearly slams the door to the bathroom shut.
I glance at the time, wondering if Kyle will even be available.
I’ve learned, though, that it’s easier to let Liam figure that out without me.
If I suggest waiting, he mopes the whole time, and on too many occasions, Kyle would’ve been free when I suggested waiting, and then Liam’s mad at me for not letting him call when he wanted.
It’s a crap shoot every time, so I just say okay unless there’s a specific reason to say no—like we’re eating dinner in five minutes or we have to leave in ten minutes kind of specific.
If we have no set schedule or plans, he gets to call his dad when he wants and if Kyle’s available, great.
If he’s not … usually Liam bounces back from that disappointment faster than if I’m the one saying no or to wait a little while.
I’m still sorting mail in the kitchen when I hear the bathroom door open followed by Liam’s bedroom door closing a second later. “Did you wash your hands?” I yell down the hall.
“Yes!” he calls back, and I go to the bathroom to see if the sink’s wet. It is. So I believe he probably at least ran his hands under the water.
Sighing, I shake my head. “Did you use soap?”
“Yes!”
“This is why you get sick almost as soon as school starts every year,” I mutter, going to my bedroom to change for playing basketball.
Cocking my head toward the door as I pass his room, I hear Liam chattering away, so I’m assuming his dad answered.
That’s good. Though I’m sure Liam will tell me about some new drill his dad says he should work on once we get to the basketball hoops at the nearby park.
Anytime Liam brings up basketball, Kyle’s full of tips and pointers, though it’s not like he has any idea what Liam needs to work on.
He came to one of his games during the winter.
And even though I filmed Liam playing in nearly every other game and sent Liam the videos for him to share with his dad at Liam’s request, there’s no telling if Kyle actually watched them, or if he did, studied them enough to make helpful recommendations.
His coach—who coaches high school basketball here and is the dad of one of Liam’s classmates, so they always end up on the same team—gave out a list of drills to work on at the end of their last season.
I try to work some of those in when I can, but I always have to either just start doing them to see if he’ll join me or suggest it as some kind of game or competition.
If I mention it directly, that’s too much like it being my idea, so it’s an automatic veto.
Even with all the frustration of dealing with Kyle, his inconsistency, and Liam’s unwarranted hero worship, parenting Liam is easier on my own than it was with his dad’s constant interference.
As I’m pulling on my workout tank, my phone vibrates with an alert.
Apprehensive, I pick it up. Sometimes Kyle texts me while he’s on a call with Liam asking me to come up with an excuse that Liam needs to leave, making me the bad guy when he has things to do or just doesn’t feel like talking to his son for very long.
But it’s not Kyle. It’s Jack.
Jack
Where are we going for lunch tomorrow?
Grinning, I send him back the name of a spot I like to go when I can that has the added benefit of secluded booths that should give us some privacy from the people who like to snap and submit pics of celebrities to gossip sites.
Since we’ve apparently been spotted together enough to warrant mentioning, it seems wise.
As soon as I hit send, Liam’s knocking on my door. “Mom! I’m off the call with Dad. You ready to play basketball?”
Opening the door, I drop a kiss on the top of his head. “Almost. Just let me get my socks and shoes on. Why don’t you fill our water bottles and grab your basketball while I do that?”
“Okay!” He runs down the hall to the kitchen, and a few seconds later I hear the water turning on and off as he fills our bottles.
God, I love that kid.