The Player and the Single Mom

I went over and introduced myself, showed my ID, and waited for Miss Connors to give me a pickup badge. The teacher was more vigilante than friendly and I appreciated the seriousness with which she took her job.

Then I returned to the group of women I’d been talking to and thought it was possible that Sera was exaggerating their fake qualities. Not that I would ever tell her that but they all seemed nice enough.

Daphne suddenly blurted out, “Wait, don’t you play football?”

It was in the middle of Mom One, Kelli, explaining to me about the end-of-year carnival. She glared at Daphne. “Daph, I was talking. Jesus.”

Okay, so maybe there was an edge there.

“Sorry.” Daphne looked flustered. “It’s just I realized where I’ve heard your name, Cash. You’re on my husband’s fantasy football team. Oh God, that sounds so weird, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, that’s me. And it’s not weird at all. I hope your husband got me for a good price. This wasn’t my best season.”

Daphne laughed. “So that’s what all the cursing was about?”

“Probably.” The kids started pouring out of the building and I spotted Marigold running out with a backpack on. She paused, looking around, a little confused and clearly upset that she didn’t see Sera. Miss Connors put her arm out and stopped Marigold from running off and leaned down and spoke to her. Marigold looked up again, scanning the crowd.

“Marigold! Over here.” I waved to her.

Her head turned and she visibly relaxed. “Cash!” Miss Connors released her and she came running over to me, weaving through the maze of moms and one father. She was wearing denim shorts and a T-shirt that read “In a Minute,” which was very accurate. I heard her say that about twenty times a day.

“Hey, what’s up? How was school?”

“Pick me up.” She threw herself against my thighs. “Please. Please. Please.”

“You know your mom said you’re getting too big to be carried.”

Her eyes were killing me. They were limpid pools in the world’s cutest little face. It was really hard to resist her.

“But she’s not here right now, is she?” Marigold asked, grinning and tilting her head to the left and right and pointing a finger up at me. Her voice was some weird mad scientist version of her regular voice. With a British accent.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Fine. Give me your backpack.” I took it and slung it over my shoulder. I barely got it over my bicep it was so small. “Do you have a sweater or a jacket or an umbrella that you’re forgetting?”

“No, I do not.”

The British accent was still in play. I picked her up. “It’s nice to meet all of you,” I said to the women.

There were waves and curious looks as they eyed Marigold with me.

“Can we stop for ice cream?” Marigold asked.

“Are you fixin’ to get me in trouble?” I asked. “No. Your mama’s making you lunch right now.”

She giggled.

And I understood why Sera worried about things not working out. Because if tomorrow I woke up and this little sprite wasn’t in my life, I would be devastated.

My heart grew about six sizes every time I looked at her.