Today is game day, which means it’s “I get my kid for the first time in a really long time” day too. That means I have to feed him, but I have no idea what a seven-year-old will want to eat. I figure that if I pick up some random food, something will sing to him and he’ll be happy. The only place I know where I can shop without facing the town’s judgment is at the tackle shop, so I head in that direction. The bell tinkles over the door as I walk in.
I smile as I walk in and see Abigail leaning against the counter, shooting the breeze with Shy. She makes friends so easily. People love her, and I can see why. She’s friendly and she’s outgoing and she’s just damn-it nice.
“Hey,” she says when she sees me, and her cheeks get immediately rosy. She looks at Shy and he ducks his head trying to hide his grin. But when she turns her head back to me, he lifts his brows at me in question. I give a tiny shake of my head and try to brush him off, but he’s not having it.
“Hey, yourself,” I say. “I’m actually really glad you’re here.” I look around the store, a little lost about where to start. I look at Shy. “Can I steal her for a few minutes?”
“That would be up to the pretty lady.” He throws up his hands like he’s feeling a little defeated. “But why she would pick you over me, I have no idea…”
“I promise I’ll give her back.” I grab her shoulders and spin her in the direction I want her to go.
“What are we doing?” she asks over her shoulder as I guide her to the grocery section. “And why are we doing it?”
“Today’s Saturday,” I say. I’m feeling all out of sorts, and I’ve felt that way ever since I woke up this morning. I feel like my skin’s about to itch off and I can’t sit still. I know it’s nerves. And there’s more than one reason why my nerves are on edge. One is the game and the knowledge that I’m going to have to see the townspeople who hate my guts, and the other is that Mitchell is coming for his first sleepover.
“Okay,” she says slowly, her eyes narrowing at me.
“So that means Mitchell is coming to spend the night.”
She grins. “I know. Aren’t you excited?”
I nod. “Terrified would be a more accurate word.”
Her brow furrows. “Why are you terrified?
“What if he doesn’t like me?” I whisper-yell. Then I hide my face behind my hands and growl into them. “I hate feeling like this.”
Her face softens. “You’re worried he won’t like you?”
I hold my finger and thumb about an inch apart. “Maybe a little.”
“He adores you,” she says, like she’s trying to remind me. “Stop worrying.”
“He doesn’t even know me.” I wince at the truth of them even as I say the words.
“He does know you. He knows you’re his father and that you adore him. I’ve seen you with him. That bond is already there.”
I heave in a breath. “Okay.”
“Okay,” she repeats, like she’s coaching a baseball team. “So what did you need from me?”
“What do I feed him?”
She looks surprised. “What do you feed him?”
“Stop looking at me like that,” I grouse. “The last time I had him with me, he was still eating soft food that came in jars.”
“Did you ask your mom what he likes?”
Why didn’t I think of that? “I should do that, huh?”
She waves her hands. “Don’t even worry about it. Just pick up some staples.”
“Staples? What…?” I stare at her.
She shakes her head in mock annoyance. “Some fruit, some of those fishy crackers, some cereal and milk for breakfast, maybe some hot dogs and marshmallows you can roast over the fire…” She lets her voice trail off, expecting me to get the gist.
“Do you think it’s safe to have him around a fire?”
“Mitchell is seven, right? I think he can safely roast a marshmallow with parental supervision.” I must stare at her too long because she adds, “That’s you, dummy. The parent.”
“Oh. Right.”
She grabs a basket and walks around tossing random things in. She gets some fish-shaped snack crackers in case he gets the munchies during the night, some cereal and milk for breakfast, and she gets some hot dogs and buns for dinner. “He might like roasting these,” she says. She walks around some more, grabbing random fruit and kid snacks that I didn’t even know existed, and then she walks to the tackle section of the store. “Does he like to fish?”
I shrug. “I have no idea.” And my parental credit actually diminishes more than I ever thought it could. And it was pretty low to start with.
“You could get him a fishing pole. One of those kid poles that are lightweight.” She picks one up and tests the weight of it. “I think he’d want a big kid pole and not one of the ones with the cartoon characters on it. What do you think?” She holds it out to me.
“A fishing pole,” I say, and it actually sounds like a good idea. I take it and pick a simple reel to go with it.
“Where’s he going to sleep?” she asks me.
I scratch my head. “In my tent, of course.”
“I know that, but where?”
“In the tent,” I say again, not understanding.
“Where do you sleep?” she asks. “In a sleeping bag?”
“No, I went for comfort and got an air mattress,” I admit.
“Fancy.” She grins. “So does it have enough room for him too?”
“I guess it depends on how much space he takes up.”
“Well, kids tend to become all elbows and knees when they sleep, so if you have room, you might think about getting him his own twin mattress. Your tent is pretty big, right?”
I know she has seen my tent. It’s one of the big walk-in tents with sectioned rooms. “Big enough.” I walk over and pick up a twin-sized air mattress.
“You’ll need sheets,” she says. She grabs my arm and drags me to the tiny little housewares section the tackle shop boasts. She gets some generic sheets, a blanket, and a pillow.
“You’ll need to wash these before using them tonight.”
I nod. I can do that.
Suddenly, she freezes. “What’s your money situation like?” she asks. She lowers her voice. “I mean…can you afford all this?” She looks around to be sure no one can hear us.
“I can afford it.” The Jacobsons pay a fair wage, and I save almost everything I make. I have been giving my mother just over half of my earnings ever since I got a paycheck, even though she told me I didn’t need to, but it felt like the right thing to do. The only thing I really have to buy is food and supplies. My tent spot is free since I work in the compound. “Of course I can afford it.” I pretend to scoff, offended, as I pick up a big stuffed fish. “Do you think he’d like that?”
She shakes her head but she’s grinning. “No.”
I chuckle as I put it back. “What else?” I look around.
She walks over to the small area in the store where the toys and games are located and picks up a couple of decks of cards and tosses them into the basket too.