Page 85 of Catch and Cradle

He lifts both his hands in an ‘okay, I’m done’ gesture.

I smile at him. “Thanks. Maybe I did need to hear that.”

Khadija coos at a leaf as it drifts down to land beside her carrier. Coach gazes at her like he’s crazy in love before he starts patting down his pockets to find his phone.

“Oh shit. I think I’m late. I’m supposed to meet the wife for baby music class.”

I hide my snort with a cough. Coach may have some soft spots, but imagining him in a room full of babies listening to some woman in a floral dress play ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ on an acoustic guitar is still a hilarious contrast. I wonder if he wears his aviators in the class.

“Oh yeah, we gotta go,” he says after swiping at his phone screen. “You gonna be all right?”

I nod. I’m still not sure which parts of me are okay and which aren’t, but after our talk, I feel more equipped to handle them all.

We say goodbye, and I shoulder my backpack to head to the library. The campus is buzzing with activity as people head to classes and meet up to hang out on the lawns despite the chill in the air. It’s only late October, but in just a few weeks, we’ll all be locked up inside to face the looming threat of exams.

At the last minute, I switch paths and steer myself away from the library. I’m not sure where I’m going until I see the lacrosse field come into view up ahead. After so many treks out to practice, my feet seem to carry me here by default.

There’s a football practice happening on one of the other fields, but I ignore how weird I must look as I walk all the way out to the centre line. I drop my backpack on the turf and then sit down beside it. I close my eyes and breathe deep, the cold, clear air stinging my nose as I listen to the shouts from the football field. After a couple minutes, I tip onto my back and lay spread out with my arms stretching as wide as they can. My eyes open, and I stare up at the cloud-streaked sky.

There’s so much to see. There’s an endless blue dome curving high above me, always changing and shifting. There’s a new sky every day, every minute. Just when we think we’ve got nature figured out, sitting there all smug with our calculations and predictions, something happens to throw them all off course.

We can panic, or we can take a moment to watch in wonder and awe.

I want to choose more wonder. I want to stop holding onto one way of being so tightly I forget the beauty of change. There’s fear in change, of course—even terror, and I feel that with every step away from the path I’ve protected for so long, but I was built to handle change. I am the latest link in a chain that stretches back millennia, just one incarnation in an eternal process of adaptation.

I can do this.

I can do anything.

Still lying on my back, I reach for my bag and dig around until I find my phone. I don’t even realize why I’ve picked it up until I’m scrolling through my contacts list and stop on that name.

I press dial and bring the phone to my ear. It rings once, twice, and then halfway through the third ring, he picks up.

“Hey, Becky Boo! Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

I grin up at the sky and shake my head. “Dad, when are you going to stop calling me Becky Boo?”

“Hmm.” He pretends to think. “How about never? Does that sound good to you?”

I laugh. “Actually, that sounds pretty perfect.”

I rest my free arm behind my head, nestling onto it like a pillow as I keep watching the clouds shifting and twisting into endless new shapes.

“What’s up?” he asks. His voice always reminds me of wooden matches and logs piled on a fire. Everything he says sounds warm. “I can already tell you’ve got something on your mind.”

“Sorry I haven’t called much,” I reply, dodging the question for now. I just want to lay here and revel in some small talk for a few minutes. “I’m hitting that mid-semester workload.”

“Don’t you worry about that. I know how it is. I’m so proud of how well you do in all those crazy courses—almost as proud as I am of you being team captain. Again!”

“Aww, Dad. Thanks.”

He’s not usually this sentimental. He tells me he’s proud, sure, but our phone calls usually ease their way into all the mushy parent stuff instead of heading there straight off the bat. I must really sound like something’s up with me.

“I mean it,” he continues. “You’re a rock star. With you doing an extra year, you’re going to take that team straight to the title two years in a row!”

I force myself to chuckle and ward off the ominous silence, but it doesn’t take long for it to creep in. So much for a few minutes of small talk.

“Um, Dad, I actually have some news for you.”