Page 27 of Silver Player

Poor baby, my heart whimpers, and I clutch at my tee, uncertain where the sentiment came from. I immediately vow to do better by her. I’m the adult, so I need to make the first move. It’s not like I was waiting for Sadie to come to me. I don’t expect her to lead me through this parenting thing and tell me what to do, after all, but I do need some guidance. I think about Roxanne’s comment—she purchased some new books on fathering—only I’d never have the patience to read, and the struggle to make it through a whole book would be torture.

Why’d I admit I had dyslexia the other night? I saw the pity in Roxanne’s face like I’m some moron who isn’t smart. I wasn’t diagnosed until right before I dropped out of college. By then, I’d developed a system to get by. It wasn’t always correct, but it worked for me. I did end up working manual labor in my dad’s brewery, which was fine, but I wanted something more for me. I didn’t want to lug the beer but collect the Benjamins. When Rachel and I divorced, it was the perfect time to open my own business. I took some classes and got some tutoring to develop strategies for business reading. Invoices. Numbers. Accounting. Numbers aren’t as difficult for me as letters.

I press off the door and head for the bathroom, a plan forming, but first I have something I need to take care of.

+ + +

The next afternoon, I write my digits on a Post-it and stalk across the damn street. Again. I’m all worked up and ready to slap the note on Roxanne’s desk and give a little speech, but my fury is instantly deflated upon seeing Grace Eton.

“Where’s Roxanne?” I ask a little too aggressively.

“She had to go to the high school. Something for Sadie.” Grace gives me a hesitant, pinched smile, and I know she knows my secret. I’m Sadie’s father.

“Did something happen? Is Sadie okay?” My pre-anger-at-Roxanne has settled into post-concern-for-Sadie.

Grace shrugs. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. There’s just a lot going on for her.” Grace keeps her eyes on me like she’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t read her.

Sheepishly, I meet Grace’s eyes, and ask, “Should I go to the school, too?” I don’t know why I ask other than knowing Grace is the mother of five handful boys. She’d be a good source on parenting.

“Are you ready to tell everyone who Sadie is?”

Who Sadie is? The question flutters before me, and it takes a second to realize the deeper context.

Who Sadie is…to me.

I haven’t told anyone minus Jordan and Clyde, and Roxanne has obviously told Grace. Who else did she tell? How many nosy Nellys know my business?

“I…I think Sadie and I need some time to figure out things before I tell everyone.” Grace’s once sympathizing smile morphs into a controlled grimace.

“I see. Well, you need to do what’s best for you,” she tells me in a rather mothering voice. I nod to agree and hand her the paper with my number. “Can you give this to Sadie? I don’t have her number, and I’d like her to call me.”

Grace twists her lips, thinking as she stares at the paper, and then takes it from me. “Sure. I’ll pass this on to Sadie because I’m sure you’ busy later working at the pub to cross the street and get her number yourself.”

Grace is exactly right. I work late afternoons and evenings. The pub is my baby and my life. I nod again, almost surprised by how well Grace understands me. Why can’t Roxanne be so understanding?

“Thanks.” I double-tap my fingers on the edge of the check-out counter and smile one last time at Grace before exiting the building.

As I’m crossing back to the pub, Grace’s words roll through my thoughts. Tell everyone. Too busy. Do it myself. I stop in the middle of the street, and an oncoming car blares its horn as it approaches. Holding up a hand in apology, I continue walking and realize I’m misinterpreting the credit I thought Grace gave me. She actually understands me better than I think. I’m messing this all up again. Dammit.

11

Mistakes and mishaps

[Roxanne]

“I’m certain you understand an altercation of this type is not permissible in our school, Ms. McAllister.” Clarence Steinmetz looks down his nose at me. Of course, I understand. Bullying of any type is not allowed—not permissible—but can’t he see Sadie’s hurting? Was she really bullying another student, or were they having a conflict that needs resolution like the rest of her life?

“I understand, Mr. Steinmetz. I’m sure it won’t happen again, and Sadie’s sorry. She’s just struggling with the adjustment.”

Her mother’s death. Moving here. An absentee father.

Is that what Billy is? Then, I think of his eyes and the way he peered up at the building before…before…and the questioning expression on his face, like he wants to do the right thing but doesn’t know how.

Just as Sadie wants to fit in here but doesn’t know how either. It’s been an adjustment for her, as I said, to move to a smaller town where everyone knows one another. The kids have all grown up together, and Sadie is like a shiny new toy, one dressed in head-to-toe black with midnight hair covering her face. She reminds me of Violet from The Incredibles, a Disney movie about a family with superpowers, which she loved as a child. Is that what she wants—a superpower to disappear? Does she want the ability to put a forcefield around herself?

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take Sadie home with me and give her the rest of the day to think about her actions.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea, Ms. McAllister.” Clarence leans back in his chair, eyeing me over the ridge of his glasses. I don’t miss the dip of his gaze or the way it travels down my body. What’s he looking at? I wonder but ignore the stare. I’m about to stand when he speaks again.