Page 28 of Anatomy of Us

When we get to the locker room and the younger girls pull out their phones, the chaos hits fast.

“He’s so cute!” someone yells, and everyone starts typing.

Apparently Tina posted the photo of Wesley asleep with the team in the background.

Caption: “Wes is bored watching his mom play ??? #FloridaPreseason”

The post fills with jokes. I stare at the picture like an idiot while Iris complains she doesn’t make the shot.

It’s perfect.

Tessa

Trouble shows up before sunrise.

My phone won’t stop buzzing on the nightstand. I grab it with half-open eyes, squinting against the screen. It’s probably some group chat losing its mind. With the time, it’s likely Europe. I need to mute notifications. But when the screen lights up, nausea crawls up my throat.

Instagram. Twitter. DMs. Missed calls.

Fuck.

I open Instagram first.

“Priorities? Zoe Méndez leaves her baby ALONE by the field while she trains,” says a sports influencer with over a million followers.

It’s Tina’s photo.

There’s Wesley. Asleep in his car seat. Alone. Next to an empty bench. The team is in the background, far away, like nobody cares. They even add a red arrow pointing at Zoe so nobody misses it.

“Motherfucker,” I mutter. “Jesus Christ.”

I scroll through hundreds of comments.

“Negligent mother.”

“She’s obsessed with her sports career, like all of them.”

“That kid deserves better.”

“Where’s CPS when you need them?”

“Typical of these soccer players who think they can have it all and only care about themselves and their fame.”

I close Instagram and open Twitter.

Trending hashtag: #MotherOfTheYear

Of course it isn’t a compliment.

I search Zoe’s name.

Mistake. Big mistake.

“With that photo, Zoe Méndez proves her career matters more than her child.”

“The problem with mothers who don’t know when to stop.”

“Why have a kid if you won’t take care of him?”