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I had to try.
I pulled up my call log, tapped his number, and started a new text message.
Me: Are you there? I have a problem.
The sound of Lola breaking into song from upstairs accompanied the tapping of my nails against the kitchen counter. After what seemed like an excruciatingly long wait but my clock said was only a minute, his response popped up on-screen.
Adrian: What?
Me: My sitter just bailed on me. She’s sick. It’s too late to get another.
Minutes passed, but he didn’t reply. My stomach tied up into knots and mild panic accompanied that sick feeling. Why wasn’t he replying? The silence was a killer.
Was he angry?
Did he pity me?
No. He was probably annoyed. Night two of this agreement and I was already flaking on him. He had to understand, though, right? He was a single parent. He had his son. This was sometimes how it worked. Surely he’d missed work because he had nobody to look after his child.
On second thought, probably not. He had his parents around, after all.
I leaned over on my counter and covered my face with my hands. The hard surface was cold against my elbows, but the real shock came from the loud buzz of my phone.
I peered over. He was calling me. Nothing inside me wanted to answer it, but I knew I didn’t have a choice.
I swiped the screen and held it to my ear. “Hello?”
“I just called my babysitter,” he said gruffly. “If you bring your daughter to my house, she’ll have both her and Zac.”
Zac?
Right.
His son.
“Why?” was all I replied. “Why would you call her and ask that?”
“Because I have to work, and in order to do my job, I need you.”
I swallowed. “How old is your son?”
“He’s eight and will probably spend the entire evening with his face in front of Minecraft or something else like that. He won’t bother her at all.” He paused, and when I didn’t speak, he continued. “Look—I get it, it’s not ideal, but it makes some sense. I have a spare room for her, and you just take her home when you’re done.”
I opened and closed my mouth for a moment. I didn’t know how to feel about Lola being at his house and potentially making friends with his son, especially since they were so close in age, but at the same time, I fully recognized that I didn’t have a choice.
“Fine,” I said softly. “Thank you. That helps, I guess.”
He laughed quietly, and the line crackled with the deepness of his chuckles. “All right. See you at six-thirty?”
I swallowed my sigh. “All right. Six-thirty.”
“I’ll text you my address.”
***
“But, Mommy, why?” Lola moaned, clutching the foot of her beloved ragdoll who was currently decorated with pasta sauce. “I don’t wanna go there. Where’s Alison?”
“She’s sick. I have to go to work, so one of my work friends is letting you stay at his house for a few hours with his son, okay?”
She screwed her face up, wrinkling her nose until she felt she’d accurately displayed her level of disgust over this new development. “But I don’t like boys. They stink.”
Well, yeah.
“Sorry, Lo. Adrian said he’ll probably play games and leave you alone, ‘kay?” I zipped up her rucksack. “You’ll have your own room.”
“What’s his name? The boy?”
“Zac.” I scooped up my purse and my own bag with an alternate outfit in. “It’s only for a few hours. As soon as I’m finished, I’ll pick you up and bring you home.”
Lola looked down at her upside-down ragdoll and pursed her lips. “What do you think, Dolly?” She was still for a moment, and then she nodded. “I agree. I think we should avoid him, too.” More silence before she shook her head. “No, maybe he won’t be as smelly as the boys in school. Especially Ryan. He really smells.”
“Okay,” I interrupted the one-sided conversation. “Can you continue this little chat in the car? We have to go.”
“I suppose. But I’m not very happy about this, Mommy. I hope you know that. You know I don’t like boys.”
I rolled my eyes, but what I really wanted to say was, “I know, Lo. I’m not happy about this either, but life sucks, kid.” Somehow, I managed to keep myself in check while I locked the front door and she climbed into her booster on the backseat.
After making sure she was safely belted in, I got in the car myself, putting our bags on the front passenger seat.
I’d never wanted to do anything less.
Actually, that was a big, fat lie. There were a ton of things I’d wanted to do less than this, but right now, in this moment, it had to be the worst possible idea.
Goddamn Alison for getting sick. I didn’t have time for her to be sick. I didn’t want her to be sick either, but still. Time, want, whatever.
