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“You were put in a shitty situation, and you made it golden. Your boys adore you, they love you but just as important as adoration and love? They respect you, Clara June. They listen to you. You’ve figured out a way to be both a parent and a friend, and you’ve given them an incredible life so far.

No part of who you are should even borrow insecurity, much less own it. ”

Tears are slipping freely down my cheeks now, but I swipe at them as Rawley and Jo Jo come down the hall, their hands linked as usual.

“I love you for saying those things,” I tell Jackie, snatching another towel from the basket. This one is my favorite. Gray, and still kind of fluffy.

“Those things I said are true.” The typing resumes, and I’m glad for her but also glad for her busy job at this moment because more sweet things right now? I’d probably start bawling.

Rawley leads Jo Jo into the kitchen, but her eyes catch mine as they pass and she waves, mouthing hello. I wave back, and give her a wink, placing the gray towel on top of the striped one. “Thanks.”

“Good. Now instead of feeling all ho-hum , just feel all ho and have fun.”

I can’t help but erupt into laughter at that, because I haven’t ever been a hoe, not a single day of my life. “I’ll have to try it your way,” I reply, watching Jo Jo slip out the back door into the yard, taking Archie’s hand as she walks him away from the peach tree. Good girl, Jo Jo .

“Well, report back. Text or call. Sometime this week, too, Clara June. So help me, I don’t want any of this I had mind blowing sex with him but it was five days ago bullshit. If you get dicked down, you better tell me. Tonight.”

I nearly choke, leaning over on the couch to see if Rawley is still in the kitchen, and he is. “We aren’t—you realize we’re all going to get chili dogs, right? That my children will be there? There will be no—” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “ Hoeing. Not tonight, at least.”

“Chili dogs don’t take long. Give the boys a ball to play with and get that dick,” she says.

I can’t help but laugh. Jackie isn’t a parent, so to her, all children are the same age. Two? Give them a ball. Eight? Ball. Seventeen? You get the drill.

After we end the call, Rawley pops his head into the living room, a bologna sandwich in one hand. “Can Jo Jo come with us to dinner tonight?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “Of course. Did she ask her folks?”

He nods, biting into his pre-dinner dinner, a meal created and adored by teenagers world wide. “Yeah, it’s cool, she just got off the phone with Riley.”

I pat the couch next to me, moving the basket to the floor for a minute. “Hey, come sit with me for a minute, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

By the time he crosses the room and sits down, half the sandwich is gone. How do kids do that? He pushes dark hair off his face, and looks into my eyes. “What’s up, Mom?”

“I know you applied for the apprenticeship at Wrench Kings before we spoke, and that you put Jackie down as your guardian, you know, on the application. ”

He rests the last two bites of the sandwich on his black jeans covered knee.

Reasoning with his hands, he says, “Mom, I put her down because I had to put someone down and I needed to get my application in on time and I figured by the time anyone even looked at it, I would have already talked to you about everything.” He takes a breath.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in the backstabby way it’s coming across. ”

I shake my head. “I know you didn’t, and that’s not why I brought it up, because I assumed that was your intention. I know you, Rawley. You’re smart. You knew Jackie would tell me, so I believe you, I believe you planned on telling me.”

He nods. “Good, because that is the truth. I was nervous to tell you I didn’t wanna go to college, and nervous to tell you about the apprenticeship, you know, because of the cost and the shift in expectations and everything,” he says, his eyes staying level with mine, focused and clear.

They may not put the toilet seat down, and they may be awful at laundry, and terrible with remembering to write things on the grocery list when they finish them, but Jackie’s right. They’re respectful boys, and I’m lucky. Really fucking lucky.

Before we talked about Dean and the chili dog date, Jackie and I talked about Rawley, and the phone call she received the other day.

Turns out, the Wrench Kings want Rawley for their program, which starts in the fall semester of his senior year.

The program enrollment costs $1,000 but, according to the guy who called Jackie, they have payment plans and have a pay-down program that allows working mechanics to have the cost of the enrollment withdrawn from their paycheck in small amounts after they are hired, until it’s paid all the way off.

Sounds like a really good company, offering so many options and opportunities to young students. Not that I had reservations about him being a mechanic, but if I had, Jackie’s rundown would’ve squashed it.

“You know how I figured out you put Jackie on your application?” I ask, a smile twitching at my lips. “They called her, because they accepted you into their program.”

He swallows, his eyes flitting between mine as he processes this new information, the good news. “I got accepted? But it was a long shot. I have like, no experience.”

I shrug. “I didn’t see the application. But whatever you said impressed them.” I wrap my arms around my boy that grew past me years ago. “Congratulations Rawley.”

We pull apart. “I promise I’m gonna pay you back for those dumped tutoring sessions.”

I drag my fingers through the ends of his hair and smile. “Yeah, you will. But it won’t be so bad. And I’m sure you’ll end up with some extra cash, too. Some money to spend on Jo Jo.”

My son glances through the house, out the back door, where his girlfriend plays with Archie. He smiles, and I can’t help but smile as I watch him. Young love is powerful, and no matter who comes after or next, or who ends up taking his last name and wearing his ring, he will never forget Jo Jo.

Sometimes I wonder if they’ll stand the test of time, and turn their high school sweetheartdom into a long life together.

“I’m saving for prom. I want to surprise her and get her the dress she wants.” He looks at me, his cheeks showing light embarrassment. “I know her dad would buy her the dress, but I want to get it for her.”

I place my hand on his knee—the one not acting as a dinner plate—and give it a squeeze.

“That’s sweet, Rawl. And as soon as state testing is done, you can start coming down to Goode’s after school and washing dishes until Tanner needs a ride.

A couple hours a day for a few weeks. Who knows, you may like it. ”

He rolls his eyes. “I like money, mom. But I’m not going to like washing dishes more than I like being at home.”

“No,” I agree, “you won’t.”

He finishes the sandwich and heads out back, and I glance at my watch, finding that I have thirty minutes before I have to pick up Tanner, and after that, only an hour before we’re meeting Dean for dinner.

Knowing I’ll have to force Tanner into a shower once I get him home, I opt to take my shower now, happy that I remembered to pick up more lilac and lavender body wash on my way home.

Archie decides to stay at home with Rawley and Jo Jo when I go to grab Tanner from his first practice after his injury.

I think this is the first time in weeks I’m not grabbing him straight after work—I mean, I worked this morning for a few hours, but at least changed into jeans and a blouse when I got home.

Pulling in, there are football players littered all over the parking lot, their red cheeks and mussed hair showing their hard work. A group of boys near a down tailgate work on pulling gear off of each other, and I park a few spots away, next to a van pulling out, full of teenagers .

Tanner isn’t milling around with the rest of the boys, but one of his friends stops me with a nod of his head. “What’s up Mrs. Colt, Tanner’s in the training office, icing his collarbone.”

I can’t remember the boy's name, but I thank him and follow the direction of his outstretched arm, toward the open metal blue door. Inside the training office, it’s a little dim, and smells like a dried out sauna and old gym socks—which is pretty much what it is.

The old wood paneled walls are stained and warped, and the concrete ground is covered in a thin layer of dust and dirt.

On the largest training table, lying on his back with a sandbag of ice lying across his collarbone, is Tanner.

He peers my way through one eye, the other pinched closed due to the torque of his head. “Hey, mom.”

I push the strap of my purse up my shoulder, and tuck hair behind my ear as I approach, sizing him up. “Precautionary or reactionary?” I ask of the long tube of bagged ice resting against his body.

From behind me, a deep male voice answers, and I turn to see the tall, lean man in the white Bluebell Bruisers polo, track pants and sneakers. “A little of both. Icing the collarbone is good to reduce swelling, and with that heavy equipment, he’s bound to experience some tonight.”

I nod my head then look at my son. “How was it? Are you sore?”

He nods, though I can tell it’s with great reluctance, which tells me he’s probably far more sore than he’s letting on. If he was just a little sore, he would have told me he feels fine.

I wince a little, and run my fingers up his bare forearm. “Do you think it’s too soon?”

“No,” he barks back, “Coach said I’d be sore. He said the first few weeks back would be rough, but that’s just because my body is still adjusting to the weight of the gear, and taking hits again. That’s all, mom,” he assures me.

I glance at the man in the white polo with the whistle around his neck. He smiles, extending his hand to me, which I shake.