Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
“The good stuff …” Layla echoes. “Yes. I like that. I think I need a notebook too.”
“Do you have other kids?” I ask.
Layla’s fingers curl along the edge of the metal bleacher while the rest of her body stiffens.
“Don’t answer that. In fact, I’m just going to go sit up there before I do any more damage today.” I point behind us and start to stand.
Layla reaches for my arm, snagging my wrist. She smiles. It’s filled with pain, a desperate kind of pain. I recognize it too well.
“Don’t go anywhere. You’re stuck with me now, at least until the end of this game.”
I ease back onto the bleacher, and she releases my wrist.
“Six months before Joe died, we used some of his pre-chemo frozen sperm because he wanted to see Nora become a big sister before he died.” As tears fill her eyes, she turns away from me. “Go, Nora!”
Nora hits a single, and we clap for her.
Layla clears her throat, managing to keep her tears at bay. “I lost the baby a week before he died, but I didn’t tell him. I wore baggy clothes and kept it to myself. Nora didn’t know either. I couldn’t imagine letting him leave this world with that kind of grief. It gave him peace of mind knowing that after he died, we would have something to look forward to.”
I give her words a little space before whispering, “I’m sorry.”
We manage to make it through the rest of the game without oversharing anything else.
Reagan runs toward me. “Can we go for ice cream?”
I nod behind her. “Depends. Are you going to get your bag and your glove?”
She gives me her annoyed eye roll and pivots to get her belongings.
“Can we go for ice cream?” Nora runs toward Layla.
Layla laughs. “Is that what your coach told you to say?”
“No.”
“Now can we go for ice cream?” Reagan returns with her bag and glove.
“We’re going for ice cream too,” Nora says.
Reagan frowns. “Is ice cream only for the team that won?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. What do you think? Do you deserve ice cream too?”
Her little lips do their fishy pucker. “I think so.”
“Good game, Reagan,” Layla says. “Tell your dad you definitely deserve ice cream. Oh, and did you and Nora get to meet?”
Reagan shakes her head.
“Well, this is Nora.”
The girls share a quick hi.
“There’s an ice cream truck a block north of here. We can walk together,” Layla suggests.
“Okay,” Reagan answers for us.
I grin and shake my head. “Sounds like a good idea. Thanks.”
Reagan and Nora walk in front of us, chatting like they’ve been friends forever. It reminds me of the instant friendship I made with Josie.
Layla and I don’t say anything right away. Then she sighs. “Are you as afraid as I am to say anything? I mean, the weather is probably a safe topic.”
On a chuckle, I nod. “It’s hot. Too hot. Too soon.”
“Agreed,” Layla says. “We’re on the schedule to get a pool next month. It was a promise Joe made to Nora. She’s a little dolphin.”
“You’re getting a pool?” Reagan nearly squeals.
I find myself shaking my head at her again. “How is it you pay no attention to me when I’m talking to you, but the second I’m not talking to you, you hear everything?”
Layla giggles.
“My dad died, but he promised me a pool before he died,” Nora says.
Six-year-olds talking about death makes me think of a young Josie. So matter-of-fact.
“My dad’s Josie maybe died too. The police are still looking for her, but she might be dead. She was sick.”
“My dad was sick too,” Nora says.
Layla and I share uncomfortable smiles. What can we say? Kids process things differently.
“Look, Mom!” Nora says, pointing to a fire engine.
Layla nods, offering her daughter a tiny smile. “Her dad was a fire fighter.”
“My dad’s a detective,” Reagan says.
“What’s a detective?” Nora asks as we approach the food truck.
“He finds bad people and puts them in jail,” Reagan says.
Nora nods, seemingly good with that explanation or just too distracted by the ice cream.
“Detective, huh?” Layla says.
“Yeah. Homicide.”
“Oh, you put the really bad people behind bars.”
“I try.”
We order ice cream and eat it on the short walk back to the ball fields.
“Can Reagan come swim in my pool?” Nora asks when Layla opens the minivan door.
“We don’t have a pool yet.”
“When we do.”
Layla glances up at me.
“She gets plenty of trips to the pool. She has a pool pass.”
“Well…” Layla shrugs “…we could exchange numbers. Nora doesn’t have that many friends in the neighborhood. She’d love to have someone to play with in her pool.”
“Yeah, Dad!” Reagan’s not giving me a choice.
“Sure.” I bring up my contact info and share it with Layla. “Reagan’s at her mom’s house more than mine. So if you message me when she’s at her mom’s, I’ll give Katy your info if that’s okay.”