We blinked, and now Josephine is going off to college.
Everyone is a mess, and there’s not a dry eye as we celebrate the end of summer at the beach on the last Friday before Josephine, Lainey, Grayson, and Brady leave on Monday. I don’t know who has it worse—Shayla and James, who are sending not one but two kids off to college? Miranda and Sherman, who will soon become empty nesters? Autumn and I, when we can no longer say goodnight to Josephine and tuck her into bed? Or Ivy, who’s losing all of her best friends in one fell swoop, since she’s younger and going into her senior year of high school while everyone else moves away.
The only consolation is that the four will have each other, since they’re all going to Texas Springs State University. The school, completed recently after nearly six years of construction, is only a little over two hours away from home by car. Close, but not so close that their parents will be breathing down their necks, as the kids have joked. Smart investments and scholarships have taken care of Josephine’s four years oftuition, and her personal spending account is more than healthy after depositing eight-plus years of swear-jar money into it. It’s the same for the other kids, or rather, young adults now. They’ll be among the first graduating class at TSSU, ready to take the world—and our mental health—by storm.
I’m not anywhere near ready for it. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. But I put on as good of a front as I can. Hopefully, I’m doing a better job of it than I am at volleying the ball over the net we’ve set up on the sand. Of course I nail my teammate, Martin, in the back of the head.
“Sorry!” I shout, cringing with embarrassment. Playing disc golf with Isaiah and Sherman for close to a decade has done nothing to improve my hand-eye coordination. They only keep me around so they have someone to beat when we tally our scores.
“Nice one, BigDawg,” Autumn says with a laugh.
“Oh yeah? Let’s see how well you do, shrimp,” I tell her when Martin tosses the volleyball to her.
“I’m going to make you eat your words,” she says as we switch places.
I catch her elbow and bend to whisper in her ear, “If you make it over the net, then I’ll eat you.”
“Deal.” She skips to the corner and sets the ball, jumping higher than someone her height should be able to, and she launches it over the net. “Ha! Told you!”
“Fuck me,” I say harshly under my breath, watching her breasts sway in her tiny, neon yellow bikini that matches her pretty pedicure.
I’m so distracted by my wife that when one of the players on the other team sends the ball flying back over the net, it nails me between my shoulder blades. The ball hits me so hard that I go down like timber, landing with anoomph,and the other team cheers.
“I give up,” Martin says after helping me up. “Someone switch with me.”
Of the four playing opposite, Lainey happily volunteers. “I’ll switch!”
To her frustration, she’s even shorter than Autumn. Between Isaiah and Grayson, towering over her, she’s seen no action on their team. Neither has her boyfriend, Miles, who is a tall, gangly boy with sun-streaked gold hair. Grayson has shoulder-checked him so many times that he’s bruised to hell and back and has probably eaten dirt more times today than he ever did as a kid.
Miles nods to my fourth teammate, Brady, to switch, which Brady happily does. My brother-in-law doesn’t like losing any more than Sherman and Isaiah do.
“That’s not fair,” Grayson says, his brow darkening with a scowl as he clutches the net. “Now I can’t hit the ball as hard.”
Lainey sets her hands on her hips with a sneer. “I’m not a baby.”
“Say that to your face,” Grayson says with a laugh.
Lainey double-checks that her parents aren’t around before she gives Grayson a middle finger. “What are you scared I’m going to beat you?”
“Oh, please,” he says with the roll of his eyes. You’re as bad at this as Uncle Forest.”
“Rude,” I say with a huff, though he’s not the least bit wrong.
“Come on, scaredy cat, give me your best shot,” Lainey goads.
“Not on your life, short stack.” He stalks under the net and tells Autumn, “Switch.” When Autumn lifts a brow, he says, “Please switch with me, Auntie A.”
Miles throws his hands up and lets them fall. “Fucking great,” he mutters. There goes his chance of surviving Grayson’s aggressive domination.
Geez, now I’m even more distracted, having the perfect view of Autumn throwing herself left and right on the other side, her skin slick with sweat and utterly divine. At least I touch the ball a few times, but only when it grazes past my fingertips.
“Easy pickings,” Isaiah says with a grin before setting the ball, intentionally targeting me when he sends it flying at my face at warp speed. Autumn and Isaiah high-five each other when I duck and cover my head.
“Come on, Uncle Forest. I can’t carry this team all by myself,” Grayson says with a groan.
“You wouldn’t have to if you quit jumping in front of me!” Lainey yells when she shoves Grayson, who doesn’t move so much as an inch. “Ugh! You suck!”
Lainey gives up with a huff and grabs her boyfriend’s hand. They run off toward the mass of kids in the water, who have tied their inner tubes together, which are staked in the sand so they don’t float away.
