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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A WAGER

JAX

A fter shuffling the girls out the door and into the car, we make it to the soccer field with time to spare and Mackenzie immediately offers to help Em…Coach Mitchell…set up cones and equipment for practice while I set up my chair and Alice situates herself on a quilt next to me with the stack of geology books she checked out from the library today. I watch as Mackenzie runs with the ball, working on her ball control before Emma transitions them into a scrimmage.

“Jax,” She calls from the sideline, “would you like to come out here and help me?”

I look around as if I’m going to find another Jax nearby as Emma’s smile softens.

“I mean you, Dr. Hutchinson,” Emma stands with the girls, divided into two groups, waiting for me to join her at midfield. “I’d like you to coach the blue team, if you would please.”

I look at the faces of the girls in the blue practice vests and notice that Mackenzie is not among them. When I lock eyes with her she grins before taking the tiniest step closer to Emma, and I know it’s game on.

“Who usually covers the goal?” I’m a little concerned that not a single girl answers me, instead they look at each other with fear-filled eyes. One timid little hand raises and I nod, sending her to the goal opposite Emma’s team. Next, I copy Emma’s homework, and divide the girls up into position groups and have them take their places on the field while I take up position next to Emma on the sideline.

“How about a friendly wager,” I try to play it cool, keeping my voice low so that any parents within earshot can’t hear me.

“This is a scrimmage, Jax,” she laughs, and the sound is music to my ears.

“I know, that’s why it’s a friendly wager.”

“You got me there,” she says with a laugh. “Alright. What’s the wager?”

“Have dinner with me Friday night. Just us. No kids. I’ll even take you to a restaurant instead of eating at my kitchen island like we did last time.”

“And if my team wins?” She asks, eyes glued to the action on the field.

“Have dinner with me Friday night.”

Emma turns to face me just as a ball is kicked right toward the goalkeeper in blue. I watch, with bated breath in the split second that the ball is in the air, as the goalkeeper leaps…away from the ball. The ball sails right into the back of the net and the red team huddles together, cheering each other on as Emma pats me on the shoulder, clearly trying to stifle a laugh.

“That’s why Kelsey doesn’t usually goalkeep. She’s afraid of the ball.”

“She volunteered!”

“I’m sure she did.”

“Saboteur.”

“I did no such thing,” Emma grins, and the full force of her smile warms me through. I’m enjoying this time with her and hope she’ll say yes to my not so thinly veiled question of a date. I’d like the opportunity to spend more time with her and get to know her better…away from my kids and other peoples’ kids. I’d especially like to get to know her without other parents around, or people from the school. Or even worse, my siblings.

“We don’t need a wager,” she says softly, before shifting her attention and shouting at her team, “Mackenzie is open!”

The ball is passed to Mackenzie just past the midfield line and she blazes a trail right toward the goal. She stops, sees a teammate nearby and passes the ball to her instead of taking the shot. Pride surges through me and in my periphery I see Emma nod, beaming with pride herself.

Kelsey allows three more goals before the end of practice, but Emma insists that I leave her in goal so that she can have the experience of goalkeeping, and maybe even learn to play the position. She looks miserable and I can’t help but feeling a little twinge of guilt, but she did volunteer for the position and I needed someone in goal.

“As I was saying,” Emma blows her whistle and calls an end to the practice. “We don’t need a wager. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

The girls gather around Emma as I walk back toward Alice, still stretched out and reading on her blanket. We take our time packing up as Mackenzie helps Emma gather equipment and tuck it into her car, until the girls and I – and Emma – are the last ones left on the field.

“Good game, Coach.” I offer my hand for a handshake and Emma shakes her head, smiling.

“Good scrimmage. And I’m not calling you coach.”

“Fair enough.” I laugh, shoving my hands in my pockets and feeling like an awkward teenager getting ready for his first date. “So, about Friday, do you like…food?”

“I do, in fact, like food,” Emma’s smile is enough for me to forget the terribly awkward feeling that races through my body. “If I had to pick a favorite kind of food, I’d say Italian.”

“Italian. Sounds good. I’ll uh…I’ll see you on Friday, then.” I turn to walk away, taking the girls’ hands and heading toward the car when Emma calls from behind me.

“Jax,” she’s laughing as I turn back around, heat flooding my cheeks. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up after school. After you’re out of school. And I’m done with work.” Please, God, put me out of my misery. Take away my power of speech right now so I stop making a fool of myself in front of this woman.

“It’s a date,” her smile goes adorably lopsided as she says those words, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks before she walks toward her own car.

After getting the girls in the car and making sure they’re buckled in, I slide into the driver’s seat and brace myself with my hands on the wheel for just a moment, replaying the last few minutes in my head, and smiling to myself as I start the car. We drive in silence for just a few minutes before my too-observant-for-their-own-good girls pipe up from the backseat.

“Dad,” I meet Mackenzie’s eyes in the rearview mirror, “Why were you being so weird with Coach Mitchell?”

“I wasn’t being weird,” I flatly deny her baseless accusation.

“You were being weird,” Alice, nose still in her book, interjects. Nobody asked her.

“I wasn’t being weird…”

“Are you going on a date?”

“How do you know what dating is?” Good job, Jax. Way to not be defensive with your daughters.

“We do read, Dad.”

“And besides,” Alice, again. “Aunt Mandy and Uncle James went on dates all the time, and then they got married.”

You can hear a pin drop in the car after the M word comes out of Alice’s mouth. It’s not something I’ve ever talked about with the girls, not something they’ve ever brought up with me before. They know that I was married to Angela. To the woman who gave birth to them. They know that I’m not married now, but their aunts and uncles are. They’ve all but grown up watching my siblings fall in love and meet the people they plan to spend the rest of their lives with. They don’t know the pain of those plans falling apart. The silence lingers until I pull to a stop in the garage and turn off the car, turning to look at them both in the dim light.

“Emma, that is, Ms. Mitchell and I are friends. And we made plans to have dinner together on Friday night. As friends.”

“Okay.” Mackenzie unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs out of the car, but Alice stays behind, watching me in that inquisitive way she has.

“I like Ms. Emma,” Alice furrows her brow. “So if you do date her, I think that would be okay.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Showers and jammies?” Alice asks, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening her door.

“Showers and jammies.”

Following Alice into the house, I watch her take off down the hall toward her bedroom, wondering again when my baby girl got so grown up. She’s always been a wealth of childlike wisdom, but in the last few years, I’ve watched her and her sister really grow into their personalities and forge paths for themselves as unique individuals. I’m always amazed at the things they understand and the things that come out of their mouths sometimes. The sass, the snark, the sweetness. The kindness with their friends and thoughtfulness with family. I love these daughters of mine and consider everyday that I get to wake up and be their dad a gift like no other.

But I won’t lie, there are days that I wish I wasn’t doing the parenting thing on my own. I wish I had someone to share the joy and sorrow of parenting with. Someone to come home to at the end of the day. Someone who loves those girls the way I do, and won’t leave them. Won’t leave us.

They may be growing up before my eyes, but they still let me tuck them into bed at night, and once they’re showered and in their pajamas, with teeth brushed and hair tied into braids for Mackenzie and tucked into a curl cap (courtesy of Aunt Nelope) for Alice, they crawl into my bed and wait for me. I take my time locking up the house and making sure that everything is secure for the night before settling onto my bed with the girls and opening the book we’ve been reading together.

“One more chapter,” Alice pleads with sad eyes when I bend to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Please?”

“Not tonight, kiddo. You’ve got school in the morning and need to get to bed. But we’ll do two on Friday night, how does that sound?”

“Sounds good.” Appeased, Alice wraps her arms around me in a tight hug before pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“Good night, daddy. I love you.”

“I love you, kiddo,” I return her embrace, holding her close for as long as she’ll let me, and then do the same with Mackenzie, who lets me hold on just a bit longer. I add this to the collection of memories that I long to always hang onto; these moments with my daughters fill my heart with hope.

I love my daughters. But they have big mouths.

At our last family dinner they informed the family that I’d be having dinner tonight with my friend, Ms. Emma. Mom and Dad shared a glance. Mandy smirked at James, and James immediately offered to babysit. And now he’s sitting in my living room watching me fret about this date.

The girls aren’t even off the bus from school yet, and James is here, grinning like an idiot while I iron my shirt and make sure my pants fit, and try my best not to convince myself that this dinner is a mistake.

“Go wait for your nieces at the bus stop,” I tersely send my brother out the door, taking a moment to catch my breath once I’m alone in the house again. It’s not like I haven’t dated before, but it’s been eight years since Angela left, ten years since we were married, so probably fifteen years since I’ve seriously dated? Maybe? So I’m approaching this dinner tonight the same way I explained it to the girls: Dinner with a friend. It’s easier for me to think of this as dinner with a friend, than a dinner date with someone that I have to impress.

When I hear the bus rumble down the street, I know I have just a few minutes to finish getting dressed before James returns with the girls in tow. When I hear the door open and shut, I shout down the hall to James, “Nice jeans or dress pants?”

“Dress pants!” Comes the immediate response, followed by James stepping into my room. “And a white shirt. Not plaid, not striped. Crisp white. Consider rolling the sleeves up.”

“Go away.”

“Don’t you dare wear a tie!” James calls as I shut the door behind him.

And then take his advice.

Right down to the rolled up sleeves.