Chapter 15
Fifteen
Faye
“These grades are terrible. You’re smart. This is just laziness!”
Sawyer was flunking out of college. There was no way to sugarcoat it.
He grunted in response to her observation. “I’m in a bunch of classes I have no interest in.”
“You’re in them? Or do you not go to them?”
Faye suspected her son was sleeping during the day and enjoying the social aspect of college but not the college aspect of college.
Faye was footing the bill for The Ohio State University. And it was a lot of money to be spending on Ds and Fs.
While Ali’s two kids had free tuition thanks to their dad, Professor Ted, Faye had no such luck in the baby daddy department. Faye and Sawyer had been on their own since she’d kicked Buddy, her ex, out. No child support or college savings had come her way from Buddy.
She didn’t know what Sawyer remembered. He was only five years old when Faye gave Buddy the boot. Sawyer was the better of two souvenirs Faye had from Buddy. The worst souvenir was a scar that interrupted her left eyebrow, a remnant from the stitches she’d needed when Buddy had pushed her into the door frame. She put her finger up to that spot and rubbed it, as she knew she did when she was stressed out.
Did Sawyer remember seeing me stagger back up? Did he remember me scooping him up and driving over to my sister’s?
He probably didn’t remember much. Faye had been divorced now more than twice as long as she’d been married.
Buddy was a boozer. She was, too, at the time. It was the only way to spend time with him. But when she became a mom, she’d lost interest in going out. She’d become less into partying and more into Barney the Dinosaur . The more Buddy drank, the meaner he got, until that night he split her forehead.
Buddy was a good-looking, too-cool-for-school loser. He was such a loser that he’d spent very little time trying to connect with Sawyer, their son. A son who looked just like his dad. And, right now, the aimless party attitude had Faye fearing they were alike in more ways than looks.
Faye had always made good money at the plant. She’d raised Sawyer on her own. He was a great athlete but not college scholarship level. Still, he’d gotten into the OSU with good test scores. She thought she’d succeeded, that there was a magical finish line she’d crossed when she got him to college.
But he was failing now. Big time. And Faye didn’t know what to do.
“I don’t want to be there.”
“What? It’s a great school. There are so many options and opportunities!”
“I just, well…I don’t know what I want, but it’s not that.”
Faye’s heart sank. Now what? She’d aimed this kid for college and now that he seemed aimless, she didn’t know the next course to take. He was eighteen, almost nineteen, but also sometimes still such a baby. He was veering off course, and that finish line was nowhere in sight. When he was in high school, she could check that his assignments were in, she could meet with teachers when he was slacking, and she could remind him about tests. But in college, none of that was available to a parent. And she got it. She didn’t want to helicopter his every move.
What can I do? What does my baby man-boy need to get him closer to adulthood?
Faye improvised a temporary fix to the current dilemma until she could really help Sawyer sort out his future.
“How about this? You finish this semester. But you give it your all. I mean, no more skipping class.”
“I’m not skip?—”
“—Sawyer, you’re smart. You know it, and I know it. The only way you’re pulling a 2.0 in World History is by skipping World History. Your only good grade is glass blowing. Glass blowing?”
“Mom, I’m making a planter, like a terrarium, really, for the fern you started?”
Sawyer had been by her side when she planted her garden out back. Her assistant. And when he’d grown a foot taller than her, she’d paid him to push wheelbarrows and haul mulch.
Faye sighed. “I think you’re selling yourself short, but I hear you. You’re not happy there. Can we make this deal? You give it your all, like I said, finish out the year as best you can. And we put this on the table in the spring. I’ll listen to the things you’re thinking about doing, and you’ll, well, you’ll just try.”
Sawyer shifted on his feet; his blond shank of hair flopped over his eye.
She reached over and brushed it away.
“Okay. Deal. But this spring, no big drama if I want to drop out.”
“No big drama. But you need to try.”
“Fine. Fine.”
Her phone buzzed. It was work. She picked it up. “Yeah, no. Yeah.” She hung up.
“You have to go in?”
“Mandatory overtime, yes, I do.”
Her son rolled his eyes. He knew if work called, Faye would answer. She never felt guilty about that. It was how he had nice clothes, that skateboard, and that game system. But right now, she wished she could sit with him a little longer, maybe order a pizza together.
But work called. And she answered.
She was about to put her phone in her bag, when it vibrated. A text from Ali. A picture of the cutest little lime green house popped up on her phone. What the heck?
She read the text:
Staying here tonight. We own it, lol. Wish me luck. The roof leaks and the mosquitos are as big as chihuahuas.
She sent a thumbs-up emoji and went to the plant. Well, at least it wasn’t snowing , Faye thought as she drove.