Chapter 24
EVERETT
“How’d therapy go?” My thumb peels up the edge of the ladybug sticker stuck to my chest before flattening it for the fifth time. Quinn couldn’t wait to show it to me, so they picked me up, and we’re carpooling to talent show practice.
“She did amazing!” Summer beams, pulling her eyes briefly from the road.
Grass and sky blur to a smeared shade of seafoam out the window. “That’s good.”
She clears her throat. “Her therapist wanted me to ask if you’d like to fill out this form?”
A piece of paper flutters from her visor when she opens it and I snag it from midair.
“Sue said it would be helpful for Quinn’s teacher.”
I glance at it while she’s stopped at a stoplight, recalling the release form. I opted not to complete it. That was before I promised myself that Quinn would be okay. That I’d help her in any way that I can. “I’ll sign it when we get home.”
Summer clings to the steering wheel. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I thought I was.
She nods, doing her best not to look obvious that she’s trying to read me.
I got the email I’ve been waiting for. The one from the label executive.
They love the new tracks and reinstated my tour.
It’s everything I’ve been wanting. All I’ve been working for.
Hours in the studio coming to what should have been a pinnacle of relief.
Instead, reality sunk in. The fantasy’s been stripped away.
I’ll be touring with songs too personal to sing without breaking down.
How am I supposed to perform without raising speculations?
How will I guarantee there’s no repeat of last time?
I’m reeling, and that isn’t even the worst part.
Shortly after the email came through, Todd called to discuss the new contract they drafted.
A detailed document spanning dozens of pages laying out my new term length, advance, and breach clause.
Stakes so high that career and financial ruin will be what I face if I screw this up again.
I’m lucky they didn’t sue for lost profit damages when I failed to fulfill my contractual obligations last time. That leniency won’t be shown again.
“How was your time in the studio?”
Summer knows by now that opening up has never been easy for me. Doesn’t stop her from trying.
“It was fine.”
“Fine?” she pries.
“It was stressful, okay?” Painful too. My studio used to be the place I’d go and retreat from my problems. Now they fester through music.
“If you need more time…”
“It’s not about time!” I snap. “It’s about the fifty-million-page contract I just signed.
Jonas Records will destroy me if I don’t deliver all I’ve promised them.
It’s about leaving Quinn who knows where with another family member before I think she’s ready.
I have no idea how I’ll live up to my word when at any second I could lose control again. ”
There’s so much there that Summer could unpack. It’s the part I left out that she zeroes in on.
“You wrote the songs.”
There’s awe in her voice that would be flattering if I weren’t freaking out.
“And that’s the problem. The lyrics hit too close to home. I can’t get through them without getting upset.”
She smiles at me. Smiles. “Will you play them for me later? Please?”
I just told this woman I wrote music that causes me a great deal of turmoil, and she asks me to play it for her?
Yet something in her voice… It’s always her voice that has me breaking down my walls and saying, “Yes.”
Cars are spilling out of the parking lot when we arrive at the school. Summer’s too focused on finding a spot to witness her ex-husband in an orange vest and tailored suit directing traffic. The guy looks incredibly pompous.
We’ve had very few interactions. I am no relationship expert.
But I can’t see him without passing judgement for the way he treated Summer.
It took me one week to figure out how lucky I was to have her taking care of Quinn.
He threw it all away over a self-righteous comment about her ability to keep a cat.
The fact that his words made her doubt herself…
I have no room for patience if he ever tries to approach her again.
“Win-a-wa, Da-eee?” Quinn begs when I get her out of her car seat.
“I don’t have a blanket.”
“Hoe hans?” She reaches her left to me and her right to Summer. Together we count down.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
She sails forward, and the sound of her unrestrained laughter sends a rush of serotonin through my body, easing the stress brought on by today’s events.
We repeat the process a dozen more times before Quinn lets go of our hands to help with the door.
Summer flicks her hair over her shoulder and flashes me a flirty grin. “See… all you need is a good win-a-wa to make you feel better.”
That’s not the only thing that makes me feel better, and she knows it. She yelps when I pat her on the bottom.
Walking into week two, there’s still no teacher assigned to this play. I’d be concerned about that fact if it weren’t for Summer catapulting herself into the role with zero hesitations, corralling kids in a giant circle in the middle of the gym.
Despite her confidence, I can tell she’s running this thing with a don’t-ask-apologize-later policy. I’m hoping by the time Mr. Rogers catches wind of her talent show plan, we won’t have enough practices left to change course.
“First things first, everyone needs a talent,” Summer announces. “Henry, let’s start with you. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, taking the last bite of his peeled banana.
“Well, what do you like to do during recess?” She reframes the question.
Etta pinches her nose. “All he does is talk about stinky reptiles and stuff.”
Several kids snicker.
Henry stares at her. “Reptiles don’t have sweat glands. You stink more than they do.”
Summer appears unfazed by his response.
“Etta has the right to think reptiles aren’t the greatest. But thank you for the facts, Henry. You should bring Max in for your talent!”
“Who’s Max?” Blake asks, twisting his hat backward.
“My bearded dragon,” Henry answers.
“Woah!” Noah gasps. “You have a bearded dragon? You never told us that!”
Henry holds his blank expression. “You never asked.”
Summer’s eyes brighten. “See, Henry. Bring Max and you could change some people’s minds about reptiles. What about you, Etta?”
Etta’s sporting a tiny hole in place of the tooth she was wiggling last week. “I like to play hopscotch and jump rope and Simon Says and—”
“We get it.” Blake rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.
I’m not sure why he’s here if he doesn’t want to be.
“I can do both at the same time! Wanna see?” Etta doesn’t wait for anyone to answer. Her sneakers light up when she jumps to her feet. An imaginary hopscotch unfolds in front of her as she skips one leg across the gym.
I clap because, for a four-year-old, she has some serious body control.
“Wow, that’s impressive, Etta. You should definitely do that!” Summer says.
Etta claps and sends her cornrows in a spin around the back of her neck when she plops back in her spot.
“What about you, Blake?”
“What about me?”
He’s refused to sit with the group and is leaning on the wall off to the side of the gym.
“You look like a guy with a lot of talents.”
He blows a giant bubble, making a smacking sound when it pops. All he does is stare at her. Is he always like this?
“Okay, well… think about it. We’ll circle back to you.”
He pulls his phone from his pocket as Summer moves on to the boy in the wheelchair.
“Isaac, right?”
“Yeah.” He runs his gloved hands over black tires.
“What do you like to do at recess?”
His chin tucks toward his chest. “I like basketball, but I’m not very fast, so I usually look at my basketball card collection and let the other kids play.”
Now that he’s said something, I spot a stack wedged between his thighs.
“Noah, weren’t you saying last week you like Pokémon cards? Maybe the two of you could learn a magic trick or something and use your favorite cards to do it? I bet we could find a YouTube video to learn from.”
“Cool!” They exchange a smile.
One of the many adjectives I’d also use to describe Summer.
She’s beautiful and smart and funny and good at everything she does.
These kids have wild imaginations, and she runs with all of their ideas, creating an entire interactive show of everything they’re good at.
As usual, I’m in awe of her. Barely able to lift my jaw off the ground by the time she says, “Who’s ready to make some props? ”
Ten minutes later, she’s raided the teacher’s lounge. How she knew where to find it is a perk of being the principal’s ex, I’m sure. I try hard not to think about how much time she’s spent in this building with him.
As the fourth and fifth graders, Blake and Isaac are assigned the big jobs.
They cut cardboard into playground backdrops like slides and swings and sky.
The little ones, Quinn and Etta, color flowers and hopscotch and top hats.
Henry and Noah and everyone else use construction paper to make ladybug, wizard, and fairy costumes.
Summer is at the helm of the ship, and I’m assigned the crow’s nest. Obligated to look out for anyone who needs help.
The irony is not lost on me that she gives me the job where I’m forced to see my least favorite word—help—through a child’s eyes.
In the light I used to before I made it into something ugly.
“That’s grass,” Blake mocks.
I look over, and Quinn is coloring the bottom of the backdrop with a purple crayon.
“Are you stupid or something?” he asks, and everyone freezes. No one more than me.
Quinn shrinks in her spot as if his words stung. I know she doesn’t know what they mean—not really—but it was his tone and the stunned faces all around us that caused her to react. She knows whatever he said wasn’t nice, and she’s looking at me for help.
You got an F? Are you stupid?
My hands shake, and my vision blurs. Everyone is staring at me.
Waiting for me to do something about this situation.
To stand up to this kid and fight for my daughter.
And I can’t look at him when all I see is Tim from the sixth grade, reducing me to my biggest weakness and flaring my deepest insecurities.
I can’t look at any of them. I’m desperate to get the hell out of this building. To be anywhere but here.
“Blake, this is a talent show to celebrate our differences. We…”
I don’t hear the rest of whatever Summer is saying to him because I’m already jogging for the exit in an all-too-familiar escape. Reinforcing a debilitating pattern of self-torture. Sucking in the outside air until my best friend, silence, once again calms me.