Hugo & Rose by Bridget Foley Page B

marching his way toward the curb. He was upset with her now, but hopefully by the time the game was over …
    â€œThank you, Kaitlin. Seriously. Thank you.”
    Kaitlin glanced at Adam, who had pulled his legs up under his shirt and was balancing on the running board. Penny was beginning to pull at the straps of her car seat. “Don’t worry. My husband ‘works’ on Saturdays, too. It’s hard enough with one, I can’t imagine with three.”
    Rose recognized the look on Kaitlin’s face.
    It was pity.
    *   *   *
    Thoughts crowded Rose’s mind as she watched Adam’s team play.
    She feels sorry for me .… She knew my name even though we’ve never spoken.… She knew about Josh, the kids …
    Rose laughed, but it wasn’t funny.
    People were talking about her. Just as they had been talking about Kaitlin and her boobs and her struggling marriage, they had been talking about Rose and her absent husband. Of course they had.
    People thought she was pathetic. Barely keeping it going. And she hadn’t given them any evidence to the contrary.
    Clouds were stacking against the mountain range. From this distance, Rose could see them piling against themselves. The wind was picking up.
    *   *   *
    They put the tournament on hold. Officials had run around pausing games still in play. Lightning had been spotted. Everyone was to head elsewhere and await word.
    Rose was still collecting their things when the rain started down, pelting the stragglers running toward their cars. Rose struggled to keep a grip on the cooler, its plastic grips awkward in her hands. She was soaked by the time she reached the van. The boys watched her as she opened the back, their faces stoic.
    Adam hadn’t had any problem leaving. He’d barely played, spending most of the game sitting on the sidelines.
    But Isaac had been doing well. He had scored a goal (“You missed it, Mom”) and didn’t like being interrupted.
    Rose tried to keep it positive as she climbed inside. She forced cheer into her voice. “They haven’t canceled it yet. Maybe it will clear up.”
    Isaac frowned. “It won’t.”
    Rose sighed and looked at her son.
    Zackie. Little boy. Child of my body.
    Sometimes I wish you weren’t so like me .
    Adam blew a cloud onto the window. Drew a happy face in its mist.
    â€œI’m hungry.”
    *   *   *
    There was a line of cars backing out of the McDonald’s drive-through; it wrapped around the building and curled onto the street. Through its windows Rose could see it was a madhouse of displaced soccer players, their damp heat fogging the plate glass.
    Penny was wailing in the back. Rolling her head from side to side. Tired of being in the car. Rose knew how she felt.
    â€œWe could go inside.” This from Isaac.
    â€œWe’re not going inside.”
    â€œWe never go inside.”
    Rose drove past the line of cars, searching. Hemsford was a small town, not much more than a pit stop off the highway on the way to better places. A few motels. A few more gas stations. On her way in, Rose had spotted a small Christian publishing factory. But other than that and the soccer fields, a two-minute drive gave you the entire tour of the small strip of its main drag. After that you had to turn around and head back.
    Why would anyone live here?
    Just before the turn, Rose spotted it.
    â€œThe Orange Tastee,” read the faded street sign. Next to the words was a cartoon of a manically grinning Orange with arms and legs. It wore an orange blossom as a hat and winked at the cars below.
    For a second she thought it was shuttered, a relic of the town’s better days; but the lights inside were on and the paint on the windows declaring, “Soft Serve 99¢!” was fresh.
    And its drive-through was empty.
    Rose turned into its parking lot and the boys erupted into