Rock Bottom Girl(124)

A second later, Homer romped into the kitchen and made a beeline for me. He shoved his nose in my crotch and wriggled with delight when I dislodged him and gave him a good scruffing.

“Doggy!” Children appeared from all doorways staring gleefully at Homer, who was busy telling me about his day in a series of grunts and groans.

“A dog and presents!” Jake announced from the doorway.

He held up gift bags, and I shook my head. He’d dragged me into a toy store last weekend with the plan to buy the affection of my nieces and nephew.

It appeared to be working. The kids couldn’t decide whether they were more excited over Homer or the mystery gift bags. Jake swooped in and gave me a steamy, hard kiss on the mouth. “Hey, beautiful. I missed you.”

This sexy son of a bitch was going to make some woman feel like the most important thing in the world someday.

Zinnia’s eyes widened as she watched us.

“Nice to see you again, Zinnia,” he said charmingly when he was done kissing the crap out of me.

They shook hands politely, and then Jake plopped down on the kitchen floor, calling Homer over and distributing the gift bags to the kids.

“Whoa! Glow-in-the-dark slime!” Edith was delighted. Zinnia was vaguely horrified. Score one for Jake. I’d told him the kids only got educational toys. He called bullshit and scoured the shop for the perfect gifts.

“Sticky bugs,” Rose yelled at playground volume. She held up giant blister-wrapped insects.

“Zombies that shoot darts!” Chandler triumphantly held up his prize action figures.

“So my thought is, after dinner we have a sticky bug vs. zombie war, and they throw darts and slime at each other,” Jake said.

The three kids looked up at him like he was Santa in a candy store offering them ponies and unlimited bounce house time.

“Aunt Marley, will you play with us?” Edith asked as if daring to hope.

“Only if you let me throw slime at Jake,” I told her.

They all squealed. My sister closed her eyes and took a long drink of her wine.

Poor Zinnia. She and Ralph worked so hard to make sure their children were well-mannered little geniuses. All Jake had to do was roll in with disgusting toys, and all their hard work and private schooling went out the window.

My phone buzzed on the counter, and I glanced at the screen.

It was an unfamiliar number, but…

I snuck into the foyer and answered with a professional, “This is Marley.”

“Ms. Cicero, this is Thad from Outreach in Pittsburgh. I received your resume for our data mining team and wanted to schedule an interview with you.”

My heart rolled over in my chest. The knee-jerk urge to say “no thanks” and hang up was overwhelming. I wanted to stay in Culpepper. With Jake and my parents and my team. I wanted the life I’d somehow stumbled into.

I was so surprised by the visceral certainty of it, I went into an immediate backpedal. I “uh-huhed” and “sure thinged” my way into scheduling an interview for the day before Thanksgiving.

I didn’t have to keep it. I could change my mind. Or I could go. I could interview. I could try to envision a life in a busy office in a busy city four hours away from my old life.

When Thad hung up, I covered my face with my hands and took a deep, shaky breath. The fork in the road was rapidly approaching, and I had to make a decision soon.





74





Marley





It was cold, wet. The rain turned to sleet that sliced its way through my warm layers and chilled me to the bone.

The seconds ticked down on the game clock, and as every moment passed, I could feel the hope drain from my body.

We were down by two. Our offense couldn’t make a dent in the Bees’ defense.

I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I knew what a win felt like, and this wasn’t going to be one.

Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen. The game clock plodded on, determined to deliver the loss.

Jake, his uncles, my parents, and Zinnia were in the stands. They were here to cheer me on. Instead, they were witnessing my failure.

I had wanted so badly for Zinnia to see me win. To finally prove to her that I wasn’t the eternal screw-up she knew me to be. I knew it was stupid. Pathetic. And I wondered if somehow my neediness had karmically ruined it for all of us.

The girls on the bench were standing up, shoulders slumped. I felt their disappointment like a wet blanket that was smothering me. It had been a long, cold, dirty game. And nothing we’d done had been enough to come out on top. It was a terrible end to the season.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

I’d let them down. I hadn’t been a good enough coach to get them farther. The guys team won their game yesterday and were headed to the semifinals. There was a pep rally scheduled for Monday.

I kept imagining Coach Vince’s smugness.

Those field lights felt like a spotlight of shame.

Three. Two. One.

The final buzzer sounded, and the Bees fans and bench erupted. The victors celebrated on the field while my girls hung their heads.

Libby and Ruby, arms around each other, limped off the field, wiping tears away, and I felt the guilt like a fist to the chest. I’d let them down. I’d set them up to fail.

I stared up at the scoreboard. 4-2 Bees. My watch vibrated, and I didn’t bother looking at it. I didn’t need a pity text or a pep talk. I wanted to wallow, to embrace the familiar darkness of failure.