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He chuckles. “Ris, I’m going to talk to you again before the game.”
My face heats, and I’m relieved he’s not here to witness it. “I just know you’re busy and I don’t want to distract you.”
“Baby, you’re not a distraction. Well, you are, but in a good way,” he says with a laugh.
“Well, have a safe flight,” I amend.
He chuckles. “I’ll call you girls when I land.”
“Mommy, I wanna say somefing,” Paisley says.
“Hold on a sec, East. P wants to talk to you.”
“East, have a safe flight, bye,” she says before handing the phone back to me.
“She’s something else,” he says with laughter in his voice.
“That she is.”
“Bye, Ris, I’ll talk to you soon,” and with that, the line goes dead.
“Mommy, East is gonna be on TV. Did he tell you? Did he?” Paisley asks excitedly.
“He did. But Mommy has to work and it might be past your bedtime. Why don’t we record it and we can watch it the next day?”
“Will I get to see him?”
“You will. We can watch it together the next day. I’m off work all day.”
“Yay!”
I’m lucky my daughter is so easygoing. It’s easy to steer her through the process from watching the game to helping me make breakfast. Paisley helps me make waffles for breakfast. She likes to hit the button on the toaster—this momma has no time for the homemade version. Maybe one day when I work a normal shift, but right now, the task sounds exhausting. Just as I’m placing the last dish in the dishwasher from breakfast, my cell phone rings. I groan when I see it’s work, but answer anyway.
“Hello.”
“Hey,” Chloe greets me, “we’re slammed, and Tina called in. Anyway, can you start your shift early? I told boss man I would call. Thought you might be more apt to say yes if I was the one who was asking.” Chloe chuckles. “Not to mention, I thought maybe you could use the hours.”
“We just finished breakfast. I need to call Mom and make sure it’s okay to drop P off early and get ready. I’ll text you.”
“Thanks, gotta run,” Chloe says, and ends the call.
“Paisley, run upstairs and wash your face and start brushing your teeth.” Even as I say the words, I know I’ll regret it from the mess that is sure to be in the bathroom. “Mommy has to go to work early.”
“Okay,” she says, knowing that arguing will do no good. We can use the extra money for sure. Her birthday is coming up, and regardless, we can always use the extra cash. That’s the life of a single mom. I hate that my time with her is cut short. I console myself knowing she’ll be with my mom, who dotes on her. They always have fun together.
Tapping on Mom’s contact, I place my phone on speaker and begin to pick up the house a little. That was on today’s agenda.
“Good morning,” Mom says cheerily.
“Hey, Mom. I hate to ask, but can you take P early? I got called into work.”
“Of course I can. I’m home, so come on over.”
My mother is a saint. I would have been lost these past few years without her. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re doing all you can to take care of the two of you. I’m so proud of you, honey. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Hitting End, I dash to my room, passing P’s door. She’s dressing herself and I have to stifle a laugh. She has on blue jean shorts, a tutu in a rainbow of colors over the top, and a tank top. It’s easier to let her go. I’ll pack her a bag of other options in case Mom wants to go somewhere. I’m sure she has clothes there too. I race to my room and grab my uniform, then head back across the hall to shower. “Paisley, I’m getting in the shower. Stay in your room. Do not answer the door.”
“Okay, Mommy,” she replies. I leave the bathroom door open and strip down, stepping under the spray before it’s even warm.
I’ve mastered the art of quick showers being a single mom. When P was a baby, I never wanted to leave her unattended for long. Even though she was strapped in her seat or later in her playpen in the bathroom. I opt to braid my wet hair as it saves so much time and keeps it out of my face when serving. I stop by Paisley’s room on the way back to my bedroom to get my shoes and she’s sitting on her bed, talking on the phone.
“Yeah, so I gots to go to Grams.” I hear her say.
“Paisley Gray, who are you talking to? You know not to answer my phone,” I scold her.
“I know, Mommy, but it’s East. His picture popped up, and it’s been so, so long since I talked to him.” She holds the phone away from her ear and shows me the screen. All I can see is his name.
