Page 19 of Recipe for Rivals
“As long as you’re on the carpet, I suppose there isn’t anything wrong with it.”
I put her plate in front of her on the counter when my phone started to ring. An unknown number flashed across the screen, but it was a Texas area code, so I swiped it to answer and started toward my bedroom. “Hello?”
“Is this Ben’s mom?” a gruff male voice asked.
I closed the door. “It is. Can I ask who’s calling?”
“Jake Hart, ma’am. I’m Pete’s dad. He told me your son is interested in joining our flag football team.”
“Well, to be honest, we just moved here, and I’m not sure Ben understands exactly what he’s asking for. He’s never even watched a football game.”
There was a beat of silence before he asked, “Never?”
“His dad and I aren’t really sports people,” I told him. “Is there a way for Ben to watch a practice first and see what it’s all about before committing to it?”
Jake sounded like he was sucking air through his teeth. “Problem is, Thursday’s the last day to register, and our next practice is Friday. Pete told me they play at school.”
Ben had said the same. Was I holding him back because I didn’t think he would enjoy it or because I didn’t want to add another thing to my plate? I sank onto the edge of my air mattress and wore a smile so my voice would sound happier. “True, Ben mentioned that.”
“How about I send you the link to sign up? If I see your registration come through, I’ll text you details for the practice.”
My stomach felt unsettled. I pictured Ben running out on the field and having no idea what to do, feeling lost, gettingembarrassed. “You don’t mind him joining if he doesn’t know much about the game?”
“Shoot, no.” He laughed. “You’re in Texas now, ma’am. Kid needs to learn, anyway, and we’ll teach him.”
This stereotype was turning out to be somewhat true—these people loved football—but they didn’t seem to take it as seriously as I imagined if he was willing to let a novice on the team. “Okay, I’ll look into it. Thanks for calling.”
“No problem. Reach out if you have any questions. I’ll send you the game schedule, too.”
“Great. Thanks.”
When we got off the phone, I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I pulled up Instagram and swiped through the happy, unchanged lives of so many people I knew in New York. My kids’ friends eating at our favorite deli or walking through the park now that spring was touching the trees. Perfect, beautiful Upper West Side homes curated specifically to look good on socials. My stomach panged, wishing to be back in the home where I’d brought two babies back from the hospital, cooking in the narrow kitchen with sunlight coming through the gauzy drapes, meeting friends at the park after school, bundled in scarves and hats with enough room for our eyes to peek through.
In all my memories, Carter wasn’t present in the ones I longed to slip back into like nothing had changed. He hadn’t been there a lot in our recent lives, which was why it hadn’t been terribly surprising, in retrospect, when he didn’t want to remain in our family unit any longer. Even then, when he’d said he wanted a divorce, it had surprised me. I didn’t realize his ultra long days at the office were a precursor to ending a ten-year relationship. He was willing to throw it away without attempting counseling or making any effort to reconnect. His apathy might have been what hurt the most.
Losing my life, my home, my friends—all that hurt second.Feeling like I wasn’t worth fighting for was a blow I’d yet to recover from.
I sat up, shoving my phone into my pocket because I wasn’t going to spend this time wallowing. My feet hurt and I smelled like greasy diner food, but I needed time with my kids and some fresh air.
“Who wants to go for a walk?” I asked, finding both of them chomping away on their apple slices.
Ben jumped down from his stool. “Can we go to the school playground? I want to show you the monkey bars.”
“Sure thing. Layer up.”
He abandoned his snack and went for his coat and gloves. Alice shoved her last apple slice along the inside of her lips and smiled before chewing her overly full bite. She somersaulted toward her bedroom again, and I had a feeling it was going to take much longer than usual to get out the door for the foreseeable future. I inhaled patience and went for my coat.
As expected, we were slow to get outside, but we made it. We walked down to the elementary school at the end of the road. Ben and Alice took off in a race across the lawn toward the play structure. I slid my hands into my pockets and followed them slowly, my sneakers tight after a full day on my feet. I wanted to sink onto the concrete edge of the playground, but a girl came out of the slide, surprising me.
“Kendall!” Alice squealed, jumping up and down with her in a giggly embrace. A woman stepped around the play structure and came into view, and I immediately regretted not changing out of my diner clothes. At the very least, I could have put mascara on.
“Hi!” she said loudly. She was dressed like she worked in an office, wearing slacks over boots and a long camel-colored coat. Her over-highlighted blonde hair was coiled into a perfect chignon and her smile was wide. She looked like she fit in with my New York friends more than the people I’d seen here.
Today, someone had come into the diner in a giant Bluey onesie and cowboy boots. He looked about seventeen, but still. No one had batted an eye. There were some strange people here.
I’d seen much stranger in the city, though. Like the woman who lived in the stairwell a block from the kids’ school who offered to paint our nails every time we passed. She didn’t seem to remember us specifically, so we just politely declined. Every day.
She also didn’t appear to have nail polish.