that day. When it ended, he turned off the TV, stepped outside, and for the next twenty minutes wandered the paths of the apartment complex singing the most beautiful arias Meg expected she’d ever hear in her life. That was what he was doing at the moment, serenading them all as he strolled through the complex grounds.
Henry was on the opposite end of the pool playing cards with Violet. They’d had two brownies each—and look! No craziness! The land of plenty, indeed.
“So that makes me from where?” Meg said. “The land of not enough?”
“You’re from the land of single motherhood,” Kat said. “And from the land of underpaid teacher-hood.”
Meg laughed. That pretty well summed her up, all right. “There’s a very exciting rumor going around that we might get a one percent pay raise this year. I think that would put me officially above minimum wage.”
“Woo-hoo! Organic fruit for everyone!” Harley held up his bottle of Corona in a toast. Meg clinked her plastic margarita glass against it and happily took a sip.
Life was good, with or without a one percent pay raise. She had a job she loved and was good at. She got summers off, and she did make more than minimum wage—she just felt poor in comparison with her friends who’d majored in marketing and business and in comparison with Jonathan, whom she imagined was by now a high-end defense lawyer in New York. It didn’t help that early on he’d reneged on paying child support and she’d been such a wimp that she’d let him.
But money meant little to Meg in the overall scheme of things. She had a boy she was crazy about, and a boy who was crazy about her. She got the gift of lingering watercolor sunsets each night with her Loop Group friends.
She had opera. She had the warm desert breeze and the comforting smell of fabric softener, which wafted over from the nearby laundry room. Meg felt pretty sure she’d already attained her little slice of heaven. Sure, it wasn’t how she’d expected her life would go, but it was a good life nonetheless. She and Henry were not only surviving—they were thriving, and that was even without the benefit of eating organic fruit.
O n the morning of Henry’s first soccer game, Meg stepped on her patio and was thrilled to see the sky bursting with clouds. And while there wasn’t a chill in the air, there was a noticeable lack of hotness. This was it! The official end of Tucson’s six-month summer. She and Henry could walk the six blocks to Rincon Market at high noon without frying like eggs on the sidewalk. The animals would emerge from their shaded corners and move around their habitats at the zoo, making going there fun again. Tucson came alive at summer’s end, and it always felt like a well-earned reward for having endured the summer.
Henry was so nervous about the game that he couldn’t stop eating. He ate four hard-boiled eggs before Meg noticed.
“Hey, stop,” she said. “You’ll throw up if you eat any more.”
“Do you think I’ll start?”
“That depends,” Meg said. “If Coach Debbie goes with who’s the best, you’ll definitely start.”
Henry slumped. “She won’t start me. She hates me.”
When they arrived at the park, Coach Debbie was changing her toddler’s diaper while the kids on Henry’s team played keep-away. Meg set up their blanket as far away from Catherine as possible. Henry stayed nearby and hopped up and down until the referee blew his whistle for the players to line up and have their cleats checked.
When Meg saw a huge smile erupt on Henry’s face during the team huddle, she knew he’d start, which was a good thing, because within minutes it was clear that if they had any hope of winning, Henry would have to carry the team. The others ran around like headless chickens, bunched up around the ball, kicking it for the sake of kicking it. Not a bit of strategy or discipline was evident. Meg understood perfectly well why Henry got so frustrated.
“Well, hey,”
Henry was on the opposite end of the pool playing cards with Violet. They’d had two brownies each—and look! No craziness! The land of plenty, indeed.
“So that makes me from where?” Meg said. “The land of not enough?”
“You’re from the land of single motherhood,” Kat said. “And from the land of underpaid teacher-hood.”
Meg laughed. That pretty well summed her up, all right. “There’s a very exciting rumor going around that we might get a one percent pay raise this year. I think that would put me officially above minimum wage.”
“Woo-hoo! Organic fruit for everyone!” Harley held up his bottle of Corona in a toast. Meg clinked her plastic margarita glass against it and happily took a sip.
Life was good, with or without a one percent pay raise. She had a job she loved and was good at. She got summers off, and she did make more than minimum wage—she just felt poor in comparison with her friends who’d majored in marketing and business and in comparison with Jonathan, whom she imagined was by now a high-end defense lawyer in New York. It didn’t help that early on he’d reneged on paying child support and she’d been such a wimp that she’d let him.
But money meant little to Meg in the overall scheme of things. She had a boy she was crazy about, and a boy who was crazy about her. She got the gift of lingering watercolor sunsets each night with her Loop Group friends.
She had opera. She had the warm desert breeze and the comforting smell of fabric softener, which wafted over from the nearby laundry room. Meg felt pretty sure she’d already attained her little slice of heaven. Sure, it wasn’t how she’d expected her life would go, but it was a good life nonetheless. She and Henry were not only surviving—they were thriving, and that was even without the benefit of eating organic fruit.
O n the morning of Henry’s first soccer game, Meg stepped on her patio and was thrilled to see the sky bursting with clouds. And while there wasn’t a chill in the air, there was a noticeable lack of hotness. This was it! The official end of Tucson’s six-month summer. She and Henry could walk the six blocks to Rincon Market at high noon without frying like eggs on the sidewalk. The animals would emerge from their shaded corners and move around their habitats at the zoo, making going there fun again. Tucson came alive at summer’s end, and it always felt like a well-earned reward for having endured the summer.
Henry was so nervous about the game that he couldn’t stop eating. He ate four hard-boiled eggs before Meg noticed.
“Hey, stop,” she said. “You’ll throw up if you eat any more.”
“Do you think I’ll start?”
“That depends,” Meg said. “If Coach Debbie goes with who’s the best, you’ll definitely start.”
Henry slumped. “She won’t start me. She hates me.”
When they arrived at the park, Coach Debbie was changing her toddler’s diaper while the kids on Henry’s team played keep-away. Meg set up their blanket as far away from Catherine as possible. Henry stayed nearby and hopped up and down until the referee blew his whistle for the players to line up and have their cleats checked.
When Meg saw a huge smile erupt on Henry’s face during the team huddle, she knew he’d start, which was a good thing, because within minutes it was clear that if they had any hope of winning, Henry would have to carry the team. The others ran around like headless chickens, bunched up around the ball, kicking it for the sake of kicking it. Not a bit of strategy or discipline was evident. Meg understood perfectly well why Henry got so frustrated.
“Well, hey,”
Similar Books
